CHAPTER TWELVE
KENNEDY
I’ve fantasized about hot tub sex. I live in a small mountain town, work at a luxury lodge, and have heard numerous stories from staff about finding couples canoodling all over the place. So, yeah, call it a bucket list item.
But experiencing the pleasurable burn of Wyatt’s thick cock tunneling inside me while a continual stream of bubbles bursts over my clit?
Nothing could have prepared me for this.
“Wyatt…” I gasp, arching into his big hands as they strum across my body like a skilled guitarist, plucking my nipples and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“Yeah, baby?” His teeth nibble on my earlobe. “Is this what you wanted? Is this what your needy little cunt craved? To be stuffed full of cock?”
Damn, he’s got a dirty mouth.
His letters never hinted at this side of him, which is probably a good thing, since who knows how the military censors correspondence to ensure sensitive information doesn't get out? An entire room full of soldiers could have been privy to Wyatt’s filthy words, something I’m loath to share.
My pussy clenches around his steel length, and I reach up to pull his head down to mine. “Stuffed full of your cock,” I correct before pressing my mouth to his, eager to be claimed by every part of him—from lips and tongue to his rough fingertips and punishing cock.
“For such a good girl, you’ve got quite a mouth on you.”
“Maybe I’m not so good.”
He chuckles and hits a particularly sensitive spot inside with the blunt head of his dick.
“ Impossible .” Suddenly, I’m lifted from the water, so my knees rest against the tub’s stone edge, practically bent in half, and allowing Wyatt to slip deeper.
Holy fuck. I’m surrounded by him. His solid, muscular chest at my back. His flexing arms holding my legs open wider for his possession. Cool air sweeps over my clit, a stark contrast from the heat of the jacuzzi, and I shudder at the temperature change.
“Good girls let their man fuck them any way he wants to.” Wyatt pinches my aching nipples. “Tits filling his palms. Cunt glistening for everyone to see. What would people say about the Princess of Suitor’s Crossing taking cock like she was born to it, hmm?”
“Wyatt… Wyatt, please…” I’m begging, but I don’t care. I’m so wired, so ready to come . It won’t take much more to shatter all the tension he’s built in my poor, sex-starved body.
Just one more filthy promise. One more delicious graze of his—
Stars explode behind my eyes as a strangled scream catches in my throat. Wyatt plunges deep to fuck me through the waves of my orgasm, and I swear I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen… and an excess of pleasure.
“That’s it, baby. Milk my dick… You’re coming so well for me... My favorite girl.” He nuzzles into my neck as my lungs fight for breath. I could happily float away and sleep for the next forty-eight hours. Except Wyatt hasn’t finished yet.
“It’s your turn,” I mumble tiredly, tightening my core to hold his cock in place. My nails scratch down his side to grab his firm ass, tugging him closer.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m not leaving this hot little pussy until it’s painted with my seed,” he growls. Instinctively, my body softens, bracing for his release, desperate to welcome the feral sign of his possession.
Another few thrusts of his hips and Wyatt groans. His cock jerks and swells, and our combined essence floods between my thighs in an obscene display.
“Fuck, baby… You sure know how to welcome a man home.”
Offering a shy grin, I shrug, still cocooned within his warm embrace. “What can I say? I’m a hospitality expert.”
A bark of laughter explodes from his chest, and we both end up laughing like two horny teens as we abandon the hot tub in favor of drying off and escaping to the room I reserved for us. The trip is lighthearted and playful, full of kisses in the elevator and the hallways.
And my heart pounds with a thrill of joy. Wyatt called Suitor’s Crossing home . Or he called me home.
Either way, that’s not the sentiment of a man planning on leaving anytime soon, right?
***
Instrumental hymns welcome our family as we enter the church. The Christmas Eve service is a family tradition, and this year is even sweeter with the addition of Wyatt. While my brothers’ ire has cooled a little since Wyatt's arrival two weeks ago, Gramps never had qualms and welcomed Wyatt into the family immediately.
Getting to know him these past few weeks without the barrier of an ocean between us has made this the best Christmas ever, yet my stomach turns at the possibility of seeing Sheree and Chris tonight. The past few Sundays I've missed the morning services to hang out with Wyatt, so tonight is the first chance that they might see us together.
Wyatt doesn't think Chris will care, and frankly, neither do I, but it'll be awkward running into Sheree after all she did to connect the two of us.
“Chin up, buttercup.” Wyatt flicks my jaw with his finger. “No matter what happens, we've got each other.”
“Laying it on thick aren't you, man?” Beckett grumbles from behind us.
“You would know,” I tease.
Part of Beckett's bad boy allure is the way he flirts with women. He's a love’em and leave’em type, and most of the ladies around here don't mind, hoping they might be the one to change his M.O.
Soren and Gramps lead our pack with Sarah Beth between them, stopping to guide us into our normal pew towards the middle of the church. Unfortunately, this puts us right behind the Dugans who normally sit on the other side of the aisle.
“What are they doing here?”
Ezra shrugs, bringing up the rear of our group. “Hell if I know, maybe they heard you were bringing your man tonight. Isn't he Chris's commander or whatever?”
I don't have a chance to respond when Sheree ends her conversation with the woman beside her and faces us.
“Kennedy,” she says imperiously. “What's this I hear about you dumping my Chris for one of his friends?” She crosses her arms over her heaving chest, ruffling the pearl necklace hanging around her neck.
“I didn't dump Chris,” I gently correct. “We just didn't hit it off.” I refrain from disparaging her son by adding he never responded to the rest of my letters.
“What else do you call it when I set you up with my boy, and instead you show up to a family Christmas Eve service with this stranger?” She gestures to Wyatt.
“Ma'am, I apologize for the surprise, but now is not the time. We're all here to celebrate the holiday and the birth of Jesus, right?” His brow rises.
“Don't patronize me, young man.”
“Mom, what are you doing?” Chris appears finally, and I wonder if this is a good or a bad thing.
“Look at who's seated behind us.”
“I can see, Mom.” Chris offers a fist bump to Wyatt and rolls his eyes toward the ceiling where murals of clouds and angels reside. “Things weren't serious between me and Kennedy. If she and Major Lincoln hit it off, good for them.”
“But—”
“No.” Chris raises his hand to stop her rebuttal. “Come on, let's return to our usual seats. See you guys.”
He ushers her out of the pew along with his silent father to their regular spot on the other side of the church, and I release a sigh of relief.
“Well, that was entertaining.” Griffen smirks, sharing a look of amusement with my brothers.
“Shut up.”
“Hey, we're in church. This is a religious service. Show some respect.”
“Shut up, please ,” I drawl, causing all of us to crack up in laughter. The showdown with Sheree, and Chris's consequent approval of our relationship, seems to have thawed my brothers out as they loosen the sticks from their butts.
We hold our lit candles, sing carols, and listen to a retelling of the nativity as the children act out the scenes on the altar. By the time the service is over, snow is falling, creating a winter wonderland just in time for tomorrow morning.
“We expect you bright and early tomorrow,” Grandpa says with a wink, patting Wyatt's shoulder and hugging me before leaving with Griffen. The rest of my brothers repeat the actions—pat Wyatt's shoulder, hug me goodbye. Then we're left alone in front of my car with giant snowflakes melting on our faces.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, cupping my red cheeks.
“Better now that we've gotten through that conversation with Sheree and Chris.”
“I figured he'd be okay, and his mom will get over it soon enough. She's probably already got another woman lined up for him.”
“God, I feel sorry for that poor girl.” Chris doesn't seem interested in a relationship, which is all good and well, except his mom isn’t getting the memo.
A Christmas carol floats on the air from the speakers that line Main Street, and it adds to the holiday atmosphere.
“Can you believe we're going to have a white Christmas? It's an early gift.”
Wyatt holds the passenger door open for me. “Yeah, but I already got my present.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah…” His eyes twinkle in the night. “ You. Merry Christmas, baby.” Then he presses a gentle kiss to my lips, stealing the goofy grin his answer brings.
I guess I got my Christmas present early, too—the man of my dreams.
My holiday heart spark .