27 - Wesley
Wesley
The door clicks shut behind us, the sound louder than it should be in the quiet of my apartment. For a second, I stand there, keys still in my hand, hyperaware of the scuffed hardwood and the homemade throw blanket folded over the arm of the couch.
Nathan doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves slowly through the space while his eyes take everything in.
My apartment is clean, but not polished. The couch is a hand-me-down with cushions soft from years of love. The bookshelf is crammed with a mix of textbooks, old mail, and paperbacks with cracked spines. It’s cluttered, but it’s my clutter.
I’ve never brought a guy here before.
He stops in front of the framed photos lining the wall of the hall.
His shoulders shift as he leans in, close enough that I can see the way his eyes track across the frames.
They pause on a shot from my first professional game.
My jersey was too big, and my hair was cropped short. It feels like a lifetime ago.
“This is not like your place.” I try to get ahead of whatever he might be thinking.
He doesn’t answer, instead reaching out to brush his fingers along the edge of the frame.
“I like it,” he says quietly.
The knot I didn’t know I was bracing against eases.
When he turns, the shift is immediate. The warmth in his expression darkens, his gaze dragging slowly from my eyes to my mouth.
He crosses the distance in two steps.
His hands come up to my face, thumbs brushing my jaw as his mouth crashes into mine.
The kiss is all urgency and heat, drowning out the noise in my head. I make a soft sound before I can stop myself, fingers curling into the front of his jacket as I melt into him.
When he finally pulls back, just enough for us both to breathe, his forehead rests against mine. My pulse is racing, but my concerns are blissfully silent.
“I thought your place would be more impersonal,” he murmurs.
I pull back to look at him. “Impersonal how?”
He shrugs slightly. “Cleaner lines. Less history on the walls.”
I shift to step back, but he moves with me.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re really good at taking care of everyone else and even better at keeping your own stuff locked down.”
My fingers slide up to rest against his chest. “You make it sound like you’ve got me all figured out.”
“Not quite.”
I tilt my head, brushing my nose against his. “I’m not that predictable.”
His lips curve. “No, but I’ll still figure you out eventually.”
“It’s good to have goals,” I nip at his lip. “Even when they’re unattainable.”
“C’mon, Wesley, it’s just us here. Let me in.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I don’t understand why I feel so comfortable with him. So seen. But, I’m not sure I want to create boundaries tonight. I don’t have it in me.
“Be selfish. Lose a little of that quiet control. Let yourself want something. Anything. Just for tonight.” His breath is hot against my lips.
The air feels heavy with possibility.
“Tonight,” I say softly, “I want you.”
His jaw tightens, something predatory flickering there, but I still take my time leading him down the hall. The light from the living room fades as we go, replaced by softer shadows.
Nathan pauses inside my bedroom, turning to look at me like he is giving me one last chance to change my mind.
I step closer instead.
The door barely finishes closing before he’s on me, hand framing my face as his kiss steals my breath.
The sound I make is surprised and hungry all at once, and he takes it as encouragement. His grip tightens, fingers sliding into my hair as he backs me toward the bed, kissing me like he’s been holding back all night. Whatever patience he had has burned off.
There is something surreal about him wanting me, even if it’s only for tonight or a couple of weeks. A man like Nathan Wilder wanting me so wholeheartedly is not something I ever expected. Not because he’s a famous hockey player, but because of who he is.
He’s sexy and carries himself with a kind of confidence I can only fake. He’s kind and generous, despite what the media might say. He’s everything I’ve never let myself have.
I fall onto the mattress with a soft bounce, and he follows immediately, weight settling between my legs. His mouth gets more desperate as if he’s trying to devour me before I change my mind.
No part of me wants to stop this. I want this. With him.
My hands are everywhere as I tug off his shirt, scraping my fingers down his back. His abs look like they are carved from stone, and I think I audibly whimper.
No man should look this good. His body is toned perfection earned through years of dedicated focus, which makes it even sexier.
Every time he shifts against my body, heat pulses low in my belly.
“Fuck Wesley,” he breathes against my mouth, the words torn out of him. “I’ve been waiting for two weeks to have you under me again.”
I hook a leg around his hip, dragging him in, and the sound he makes this time is rougher. His mouth moves to my neck, sucking like he wants to mark the moment into my skin. My head tilts back, letting him.
Every shift of his weight and every brush of his hands makes my body chase more. He grinds into me, and I can feel how hard he is against my thigh.
“Last time, we were cut short.” I almost don’t recognize the breathy sound that slips out as I continue grinding against him.
“The worst interruption of my life,” he teases, his mouth brushing against my ear before nipping at it.
My hands roam over his chest. “Poor pizza delivery guy got an earful.”
His eyes darken. “I hope he enjoyed it while he could, because now, I’m the only one who gets to hear you moan like that, Wes.”
I should point out that that’s not the deal, but dammit if possessive Nathan doesn't have my mouth dry and my panties wet.
He shifts, pressing his cock against my pussy, and even with the layers of material between us, I can feel how big he is.
Tonight, there won’t be anything stopping me from exploring that particular part of his body.
My shirt and bra are yanked off without ceremony, just hands and urgency.
The bed creaks beneath us as he crowds me back into the mattress, his gaze heady as he takes in my body.
His eyes take their time scanning from my face down to my chest, reaching out to graze his hands across my breasts.
By the time he looks back up, his pupils are blown wide.
Leaning back in, his mouth trails down my chest, closing around my nipple. His tongue swirls around the peak while his hand toys with the other. My breath is sharp as my body arches off the mattress. He smirks against my skin.
There’s something attractive and daunting about how he moves as if he knows exactly what he wants from me. It’s like he’s more in tune with my body than I am, meeting every desperate sigh and plea before they fall off my lips.
I meet him with the same hunger, nails biting into his shoulders so hard they’ll leave marks.
My hand trails down his back before reaching around to palm his cock through his jeans, forcing a groan from deep in his chest. The sound spurs me on, so I do it again and again, until he looks up at me, eyes pleading.
“Don’t make me come yet, baby, not before I’ve been inside you.” His voice is a whisper against my skin, causing goosebumps to form.
It’s an enticing idea, making Nathan Wilder come in his pants with only my hand, but it’ll have to wait.
Everything on his face says he wants me to keep touching him, but he pulls himself out of my grasp and slides down my body, tugging my jeans and panties down with him.
“Then get inside me.” It’s practically begging, but I can’t bring myself to care.
I’m aching for him.
I squirm under his hands as he finishes stripping me.
My thighs squeeze together, but he uses one hand to push them open.
When he glides a finger across my slit, I can hear how wet I already am for him.
His eyes watch me carefully as he sucks my clit into his mouth, groaning as he grinds himself against my bed.
I’ve never been into foreplay. Before Nathan, I would’ve said it was wasted time before the good stuff.
But watching him toy with my clit while he grinds himself into my bed is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
There is nothing about this that’s wasted time.
All I can do is picture how good it’ll feel when he’s thrusting into me instead of against my sheets.
He licks directly up my slit, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’ve been dying to taste you for weeks.”
“Nathan,” I beg when he licks me slower.
He pulls away, a smile breaking across his face, “Say my name again.”
I glare down at him, hips raising to seek him out. My body knows how much pleasure he could give me if he’d only lean back in.
Instead, he gently blows across my clit, teasing me mercilessly. “Say it again.”
Wesley Miller, the one in control, would argue. She’d be annoyed and frustrated by his teasing. Whoever the hell I am right now doesn’t think twice, caving to his request desperately.
“Nathan, please.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own; it’s breathy and shaky.
“Please what?”
He blows again.
“Please make me come.”
“That’s my good girl.” He traces me with his tongue, slowly. “I’ll make sure you come, Wes. Just let me enjoy myself a little first.”
Nathan calling me his girl sets off alarm bells, but they disappear entirely when he sucks my clit into his mouth again, bringing me dangerously close to the edge. He slides not one, but two fingers into me, and I’m half delirious chasing the orgasm that feels just out of reach.
My hands find the way to the back of his head, tangling in his hair while he takes his time tasting me.
“You take my fingers even better than I remember, baby.” His voice is gravelly as he watches his fingers move in and out of me. “I can’t wait to see you take every inch of my cock.”