Chapter 15 #3
“Who is this?” I whisper, because anything more in this moment seems like too much. My nail trails over her mane, and a fresh wave of shivers appear before my eyes on his skin.
“Rosie,” he says, matching my cadence. “My other love in life.”
Firefighting being the other one, I’m sure.
“She’s beautiful,” I remark. “Quarter horse?”
“Yeah,” he nods, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “The sweetest temperament. You could do anything to that horse and she wouldn’t blink.”
“I have a paint in the country where my parents live,” I tell him, and he glances over his shoulder at me. “Henry. I suppose he’s not technically mine, but he always chose me. Whenever I went out to get one of the horses to ride, he was the one who always came running first.”
“He’s got good taste.”
My smile widens. “I wonder if they’d like each other.”
“Bet they would.”
Pressing my palm against Rosie, I linger for a moment before letting my fingers slide against his muscles. They’re taut, the tension in them easily readable, though he seems relaxed enough.
“I want to tell you all the things,” I say quietly.
“I know.” There’s no judgment in his tone. No underlying emotion that I need to decipher.
When he turns back to face me, my expression is earnest. “And I will.”
Taking my waist, he guides me back towards him, my legs hooking over his hips, his hand sliding all the way up the length of my back to my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know.”
It’s simple, quiet confidence. No need for more, no pushing for answers.
Sliding a hand up the length of his tattooed arm and over his shoulder, I run my fingertips along his trap, out of habit, like I’m sliding them along my stomach.
There’s nothing to smooth out, but there is a wealth of knots beneath the skin that my fingers ache to work on, pressing harder into his flesh as I go.
“If you start working my muscles like that, there are other things that are going to be working,” he mumbles, but the last word is interrupted by a groan. “Fuck that feels good.”
I can’t help myself, moving my fingers in slow circles in one particularly tight spot near the base of his neck.
My other hand drops down over his shoulder, moving along the scapula, finding more knots to work out.
Between his job and the hours he spends in the gym, I’m not surprised to find him like this, but I know with some TLC, he could feel so much better.
“Bryn,” he whispers.
Shifting us in the water, his own hands start to wander.
From the middle of my back, he moves south, his hands molding over the curve of my ass, giving it a squeeze.
I bite back a moan, wanting more pressure than he’s giving, and I push back into his touch.
When his grip tightens, I rock forward, feeling his erection pressing against me.
It starts a burning ache, heat searing through my lower belly and into my center.
Wyatt groans, pressing his face into the crook of my neck as I continue to work on him, gliding my fingers from beneath his ear down the length of his neck and across his traps in one long, smooth stroke.
Nothing that would hurt, only soothe and feel good.
My other hand slowly makes its way to the nape of his neck where I start with my hand splayed and slowly drag all my fingers together.
He shudders against me at that movement, and I do it again to test it.
Again tremors wrack his body, and his fingers dig into my ass.
It’s delicious. He pulls at my cheeks, opening me slightly to him, and when he does, my hips pitch forward, and I grind against him.
His cock feels exquisite against my clit, and I suck in a gasp of breath at the same time he does.
Another stroke of my fingers, ear to trap, splayed to closed, and he goes utterly still against me.
I feel his teeth against the skin of my neck. Not biting, but not not biting, either. Gritting. Open mouthed, pants of air against my heated skin, and then his fingers start to loosen their grip.
“Fuck.”
“Did I hurt you?” I ask, my fingers freezing mid-stroke. Lifting my head from the side of his neck, he ducks his head so I can’t see his face. “Wyatt? I didn’t think the pressure was—”
“I’m fine,” he grounds out, blowing out a breath against my collarbone. Then he lifts his head. “I may have, uh, just…” He trails off, his eyes darting down between us. Almost quicker than I can comprehend, he finishes, “Done-something-I-haven’t-done-since-I-was-a-teenager. I swear to God.”
My head tilts to the side, and I frown, not putting the pieces together. Then as his head drops back to look up at the sky, it dawns on me. “Oh my god, did I—did you—did—I am so sorry.”
With wide eyes, Wyatt brings his head forward again to stare at me incredulously. “My beautiful Bryn, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that’s sorry I couldn’t last more than thirty seconds with you hardly touching me. I swear I’m not that pathetic all the time. You are just…”
My eyes slide away from his for a moment, and I try to hide my smile, my stomach curling with delicious fire. I made him come and hardly touched him. The rush that sends racing through me makes me want to writhe on his lap to see if I can get him hard once more and repeat the performance.
One of his hands lifts from the water and catches my jaw, his thumb pressing into one side, his index finger into the other. It brings my attention solely back to him and now the smile peeks through.
“I may have been trying to make it really good for you,” I tell him. “But I didn’t think that…”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Three dates. Three dates and then I’m going to worship you all damn night until you can’t stand on your own two feet.”
That has my pulse pounding in hunger. “All night?”
“If you’ll let me.” He nods his confirmation, a light brown curl falling over his forehead with the movement.
“Permission absolutely granted.” I press my lips to his. “Now, as much as I love hanging out right here in this spot and will never forget this moment, can we maybe not keep swimming around in your cum?”
“Uh, yeah, cum play is not on my list of activities for this afternoon,” he says, and releases his grip on me. “Give me a second, though.”
I lower my legs from around his waist and move around him, keeping my back to him and taking a look at our surroundings. Luckily, no one has drifted over this way. I call back to him, “But maybe one afternoon?”
“Fuck, woman. You’re going to be the death of me.”
It makes me smile. “C’mon. Maybe you can convince Liam to go for a swim down here and then tell him he got to play in your cum.”
A second later, an arm is wrapping around my waist and pulling me into his side. “I love the way you think.”