Chapter 6 Haven
SIX
Haven
He wasn’t gentle about it, not exactly, but he wasn’t rough either—he just…
he knew exactly what he was doing. His tongue circled and his teeth grazed and his hand came up to cup the other one.
I grabbed the blanket in both fists and stared at the ceiling and tried to remember my own name, but all I could come back to was Wyatt Holt kneeling between my legs, Wyatt Holt with his mouth on me, Wyatt, Wyatt, “Wyatt—”
“Mm.”
“That’s—it’s so—”
He switched sides and I made a sound I would be thinking about at three in the morning for the rest of my life. Hopefully in pleasure and not in shame. Hopefully.
His mouth moved down. Sternum, ribs, the soft skin below my navel. I felt every inch of it. His hands came to my hips, holding me steady, even as I thought I might vibrate off the bed.
He dragged his tongue across my hip bone and my hips jerked up hard.
He pressed them back down. Didn't rush. Moved his mouth to the inside of my thigh and I made a sound I'd never heard come out of my own body before—high and desperate—and he pressed a kiss there like a reward.
"Wyatt—"
"Mm."
His stubble scraped my inner thigh and I gasped. His hands slid under me, palming my ass, tilting me up, and then his mouth was on me and my whole spine arched off the mattress.
He started slow. Tongue flat, easy strokes, learning what made my breath catch, what made my thighs try to close around his head. Every time I made noise he did it again. Exactly that. Like he was taking notes.
My fingers found his hair.
He made a low sound against me and I felt it everywhere.
"Please," I said. "Please, I need—"
He slid one finger inside me and curled it and I cried out into the dark room.
“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ wet, Haven,” he said, working his finger in and out.
I could hear it in the quiet of his little house, the obscene, wet sound.
“Soaking for me.” His tongue darted out to lap at my clit, and I spasmed around him.
I’d lost count of how many orgasms I’d had…
at this point, it felt like one long orgasm with no end in sight. “And so tight…”
“Give me more,” I begged, voice tense. “I can take it.”
He obliged, pressing a second finger inside me slow…
so slow. I felt the stretch and my breath came out ragged—but he’d done this two nights ago and it had felt so good, and the pressure was just as good now as it had been then.
I reached up to tweak my own nipples and I felt even more open, welcoming him in, begging him for it.
"That's it," he said against me. "Just like that."
His fingers curled and I sobbed out a breath. My hips rolled up to meet him and he let me, his mouth still working, his fingers moving in a slow steady rhythm that had my toes curling into the quilt.
"Wyatt." His name came out broken. "I'm gonna—I'm—"
"I know." He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh. "Give it to me."
It rolled through me long and slow and I grabbed his hair and held on and shook through the whole thing until his fingers slowed and I came back down breathing hard.
He didn't move away. He kept pushing two big fingers into me…and it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
"More," I said.
He looked up at me.
I pushed myself up on my elbows to see him…to see his pupils blown wide, his hair messy from having my hands in it, his mouth wet with my arousal.
It made me bold.
"Third one," I whispered. "I can take it."
He frowned, but he kept his mouth close enough to drag his tongue out and over my clit…kept pushing his fingers into me at a slow, steady pace.
“You sure?” he rasped.
“Yes,” I nodded. “I want—I’m a tough girl, Wyatt.”
He actually smiled. “I know it, Haven. I know.”
Then he pressed a third finger in alongside the others, slow, giving me time to adjust, and I felt the stretch and my jaw dropped and I made a sound that wasn't quite a word.
But it didn't hurt. It was full and intense and my whole body felt like a live wire. I rolled my hips into it and he made a low rough sound.
"Good girl," he said. "You're taking it so well."
"I told you," I managed.
He chuckled, and I felt his breath between my legs. His pace quickened, thrusting deep—then he pushed all the way in and scissored his fingers, spreading me.
I arched.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes, please, please—”
“You want my cock, baby?”
“Yes—”
“You wanna feel me deeper than this? Deeper than my fingers?”
“Please, please Wyatt, please—”
He pulled out so fast that I cried out at the loss of him, but then he was crawling over me—reaching for the nightstand and pulling the drawer open. He knelt between my legs and ripped the condom package open, then held his cock to roll the condom on.
I watched, heart in my throat. Just…taking in how big he was. Getting ready for it. Aching for it.
He got it on, then he lowered himself over me…then he kissed me hard, his tongue gliding across my lips until I opened to him, letting him in, sucking his tongue into my mouth. He groaned and cupped my cheek, and I felt his hips roll against my clenching pussy.
He pulled back to look at me.
“Gonna roll us so you can be on top,” he said. “I want you setting the pace.”
I frowned. “It’s okay, I’m good—”
“And I want to see those pretty tits bouncing while you ride me,” he said, tweaking my nipple. My god. It made everything in me curl up and get cozy, so warm I could barely breathe.
He rolled us in one smooth move and suddenly I was on top of him, his hands on my waist. I laughed—I couldn't help it, the suddenness of it, the way the whole world flipped.
"What's funny?" he said, but he was smiling too.
"Nothing." I was still smiling. "Nothing, I just—"
His hands slid up my sides and I felt his cock hard against me, nestled between my folds, and the laugh died in my throat.
I reached down.
Wrapped my hand around him and felt him inhale sharp beneath me. I held him steady and rolled my hips forward once, just feeling the slide of it, the heat, and he made a low rough sound and his grip tightened on my waist.
“Be careful,” he said, but the way his brow furrowed, his lips parted…it made me want to take him fast. Made me brave.
“You delicate, cowboy?” I asked with a coy smile I wasn’t sure how I managed.
He gritted his teeth. “Just…Christ—”
I sank down an inch. He felt so good, so big—
“—tryin’ hard to be gentle with you,” he rushed out.
Then, in one quick move, I sank down as far as I could go.
We both gasped, my lips parting, little fireworks exploding behind my eyelids at the sheer length of him, the girth, the way he filled me up better than his fingers or a toy ever, ever could.
His hands gripped my hips so hard I'd have bruises tomorrow and I didn't care even a little.
"Haven." My name came out wrecked. "Don't move yet. Just—give me a second."
I looked down at him. Wyatt Holt, forty years old, combat veteran, the most controlled man I had ever met in my life, lying underneath me with his jaw tight and his eyes closed and his chest heaving.
Because of me.
I rolled my hips. Just slightly.
His eyes flew open. "Haven—"
"I've got it," I said.
There was a stretch to it, a fullness that sat right on the edge of too much, but underneath that was something else entirely—a deep, aching pressure that made me want to move, made me need to move. I braced my hands on his chest and lifted up slow and sank back down and we both exhaled hard.
"Okay," I breathed. "Okay, that's—"
"Yeah," he said. His voice had lost its edges entirely.
I did it again. Slow. Finding the angle, finding the rhythm, and every time I moved his hands flexed on my hips like he was holding himself back from taking over and I loved it.
I loved having him like this. All that discipline, all that careful, measured control, and I was the thing that had taken it apart.
"Look at me," I said.
He looked at me.
His eyes were dark and his face was open in a way I'd never seen it and I filed every detail of it away somewhere I'd never lose it.
"Good?" I asked.
"Christ, Haven." Barely a whisper. "You have no idea."
I couldn’t resist.
I started to move.
I rocked my hips forward and back, up and down, pulling almost all the way off before I sank back down.
As I found a rhythm, I felt my whole body moving—every roll of fat, my belly, my breasts.
Wyatt reached up to take them in his hands, rolling my nipples between his fingers, and I clawed at his chest.
Just…watching.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes…yes, Wyatt—Wyatt, I’m gonna come—”
“Please,” he begged, and it was the first time he was asking. “Please. Wanna feel you come on my cock, baby—”
I jerked at those words, as an orgasm rocketed through me. Wyatt groaned, cupping my breasts, thrusting up into me.
“Shit…shit, baby, I can’t—I wanna put you on your back and fuckin’ pound your pussy, Haven.” His breath caught as I moved erratically through the orgasm, shaking. “Please—please can I—”
“Please—” I asked, my turn to beg now, more than ready—
And he did.
He pulled me into his chest, rolled us again—then he hitched my leg up and just started—
It was nothing like before. Before was careful and controlled and deliberate.
This was Wyatt with his discipline gone completely, his face buried in my neck, his hips snapping into mine, the headboard knocking against the wall, and every thrust knocked the air out of my lungs and I wanted more of it, all of it, I wanted him to wreck me.
"Yes," I gasped. "Yes, just like—harder—"
He groaned against my neck and gave me harder.
The wet slap of skin, the creak of the bed, the sounds I was making that I had absolutely no control over—it was obscene and I was so far past caring that I wrapped my leg higher around his waist and tilted my hips up and felt him sink even deeper and cried out.
"Right there," I said. "Right there, don't stop—"
“Fuck, I’m never stopping, baby,” he said. “This pussy? This is the sweetest pussy I’ve ever fucking had, fuck, Haven—fuck, you’re so fuckin’ perfect—”
His hand slid between us and his thumb found my clit and I arched so hard my shoulders came off the mattress. I reached up to grab the headboard, struggling to stay put, needing something to hold onto so I wouldn’t just fly off into space.
His hips snapped into mine. "Can't stop. Can't—" A groan, low and rough. "Been thinking about you since Saturday—couldn't—"
"Tell me—"
"Touched myself." Ragged. "Thinking about you. Felt like—like a bastard—but I didn't stop…fuck, touched myself thinking about this, about you ridin’ my cock just right—"
"Good," I gasped.
"Haven—"
"Good—" I grabbed his jaw, turned his face to mine. "Look at me."
He looked at me.
His eyes were completely gone. Nothing held back. Nothing controlled or measured or careful.
Just Wyatt.
He kissed me again, moaning into my throat, then he buried himself deep and stayed there—hips stuttering, his whole body shaking.
I came at just the idea that he was coming inside me, even with a condom—that I’d made him do this, that he was coming undone for me, that he’d touched himself thinking of me.
We lay like that for a while afterward. I wasn’t sure how long…just Wyatt inside of me, on top of me, his fingers still stroking gentle circles over my breast, my pussy clenching around his softening cock every so often.
He lifted his head.
His eyes were clearer now, coming back to himself. I watched him remember who he was and what he'd just done and I held very still and waited to see which version of him was going to show up.
If he was going to make me leave.
He pressed his forehead to mine. "Your car. Did you pull it around back?"
I nodded. “Yeah. As far as anyone else knows, I went home.”
“And your roommate?”
“I told her I needed to stay at the house tonight because a cow was having some trouble. She didn’t ask for details.”
Something moved through his face. Relief, maybe, then…something else. Something more complicated I couldn’t quite place.
"Good," he said quietly.
"I know how this works, Wyatt. No one has to know. We agreed."
He looked closely at me. Swept his eyes over my face, down to my kiss-bruised lips, down my body.
I let him look.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmured. His brow furrowed. “So fuckin’ young.”
I wanted to tell him to stop doing that—to stop feeling guilty—but he pushed himself off the bed and walked toward the bathroom. I heard the water run…heard him splash some on his face. When he came back, the condom was gone, but he didn’t get dressed.
He pulled the blankets aside and got under them, then he held them open.
I snuggled underneath with him.
He didn’t say another word, and I was fading fast. We’d worked hard today…and even harder tonight. Sleep came over me quickly, undeniable, and my eyes fluttered shut as I rested my head on his shoulder, my hand on his chest.
He kept saying this was wrong, but I was in his bed. We were naked. He’d just spent well over an hour making me come…and he’d taken my virginity.
As long as I didn’t tell a soul, this was happening.
For how long? I had no idea.