A real relationship can’t start with sex
A REAL RELATIONSHIP CAN’T START WITH SEX
Brynn
Wyatt’s lips traced my collarbone as he slid a finger inside my pussy. Another moan escaped me as my body felt new levels of pleasure.
It had never been this way before—so good, so addicting, so orgasmic.
Wyatt had promised that he’d make me come on his tongue, fingers, and cock, and he’d delivered on all three, several times over. And yet, I still craved the feel of his body inside and on top of mine. I wanted his touch at all hours of the day.
For three days, we’d done nothing but have sex and occasionally remember to eat. But even when we were eating, we were touching each other. I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to survive without his touch once we left the happy little bubble of this cabin.
But that was a worry for another day.
I sank my fingers into his mussed-up hair as his lips moved down, over my breasts, before he took one nipple between his teeth.
He peeked up at me as he tugged, the corners of his lips pulling up into a cheeky grin.
At the same time, he rocked his hips, canting his steel erection so it slid along my wet and swollen pussy lips.
Using one of his hands, he grabbed the base of his cock and notched the head at my entrance, watching our bodies join slowly until he was seated deep.
“God, I’ll never get tired of watching your body take my cock.”
His mouth was dirtier than anyone I’d ever met, and I’d had no idea that dirty talk was such a turn-on for me.
I loved hearing the words that came out of his mouth, the dirty demands, the way he’d call me his.
All of it was a seduction I’d never experienced and, like everything else about him, had grown addicted to.
I slid a hand down to rub my clit as he pumped inside me, but I’d only barely touched it when he grabbed my hand and pulled my finger up to his mouth.
He sucked it between his lips, his tongue swirling over the pad and licking away even the tiniest trace of my arousal.
All the while, his hips still thrust forward and back, teasing me closer to my next orgasm.
“Wyatt…”
“Yeah, baby, say my name just like that while I fuck another orgasm out of this perfect body.”
His words took me right to the edge of release, and then he dropped his hand to rub his thumb over my clit just the way he knew I needed. I fell over the cliff, my orgasm arcing through me and making my thighs shake where they rested against Wyatt’s hips.
He pumped three more times and followed me off the edge, bending over to kiss my lips as he came inside me.
We lay there for a few minutes, my fingers tracing invisible lines on his body, the sweat cooling on our skin before either of us spoke.
“How sore are you?” he asked.
“I’m okay,” I said, although I was definitely more swollen down there than I’d ever been. I’d never had a sex fest before, but there was no other name for the amount of sex we’d had in the last few days.
His hand cupped the front of my neck, his thumb pushing up under my chin so I was forced to look into his discerning gaze. “Tell me the truth, not some lie because you think you’ll be a burden if you’re honest.”
I swallowed thickly. It was like he could see my soul and there was no way I could ever hide from him again.
“I was already a little sore from last night’s activities. I’ll probably feel more sore once you pull out.”
His eyes darted back and forth between mine, probably searching to make sure that was the truth. It was. He pressed his lips against my forehead, making my heart squeeze tightly in my chest at the tenderness.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve given you more time to recover.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist to his back. “I wasn’t complaining. Everything still felt good.”
He shook his head at me, the left corner of his lips curving up in a small smile.
“You never complain. About anything. Even when you see someone doing something wrong, you redirect them in the most polite and positive way I’ve ever witnessed.
” He brushed a strand of loose hair away from my face.
“You’re always taking care of everyone’s feelings and making sure things run smoothly. But who takes care of you?”
A lump formed in my throat. “No one,” I choked out. It was true. Grant used to when I was underage, but since I’d turned eighteen, I’d taken on every aspect of my business. I delegated, sure, but everything was still my responsibility because I was the boss.
His gaze turned fierce. “Not anymore. Now you’ve got me, okay?”
“Only until I stop paying you.” It wasn’t often my pessimistic side came out to play, but unfortunately, I couldn’t trust that this was real.
As much as I wanted to, and as much as I planned to enjoy every single second alone with Wyatt, I couldn’t deny that I knew it would all end once we left this cabin.
He’d never choose us over a job he was so good at. And I’d never ask him to either.
He frowned down at me and shook his head. “If you haven’t realized all that I’ve already given up for you, then I clearly have more work to do. The second I kissed you, that was it. I’m yours, no payment required. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not interested in your money or your fame.”
I parted my lips to respond, but he placed one finger against them. “Let’s go take a bath. The hot water will help with the soreness.”
He didn’t wait for me to respond. Instead he got out of the bed, picked me up, and carried me down to the bathroom, placing me on the vanity while he got the water running in the big claw-foot tub.
He walked the short distance over to me, spread my legs wide and then ducked down, but instead of licking me or doing something equally naughty like I expected, he smiled up at me and opened the door under the sink.
“Had to grab the Epsom salts,” he said, chuckling. “What did you think I was going to do, naughty girl?”
My cheeks heated and his chuckle turned into a full laugh. When Wyatt laughed, he looked younger and, if possible, sexier. I loved seeing him laugh. He dropped a kiss to my mouth before he turned around and sprinkled some Epsom salts into the bath.
“How’d you know those were under the sink?”
Without looking back at me he said, “I took stock of everything the first night we were here, while you were asleep.”
That definitely sounded like something he’d do. He dipped his hand in the water and must’ve found it up to his standards because he walked over to me, slid his hands under my ass, and lifted me up into his arms before carrying me back to the now full tub.
He set me on my feet, but held my hand and helped me in. He turned like he was going to leave, but I grabbed his arm. “You’re coming in too, right?”
He glanced down at the tub. “It’ll be a snug fit.”
My lips lifted easily in a wide smile. “That’s what she said.”
He huffed out a chuckle, shaking his head at my ridiculousness, and then gestured for me to move forward. It took a little finagling since he was so tall, but we both managed to fit. I couldn’t deny I loved being snuggled up to him in the warm water.
He grabbed the washcloth hanging off the side and dipped it into the water before running it over my chest and arms.
“Did you always want to be a bodyguard?” I asked him.
“Not particularly. I wanted to be a firefighter when I was little and then I joined the navy right out of high school and went the special forces route. That’s how I met Raf—Rafferty Carmichael.
We were in the same unit for most of our time in the service, but he got out a few years before I did and set up Carmichael Security.
By the time my contract was about to be up, he had things up and running and offered me a job with better pay and benefits.
Plus I could be close to home, which was nice because I missed seeing my brother regularly.
It was one of those things I just happened to be good at, and it fell into my lap. ”
One thing I loved most about Wyatt was that he shared information so freely with me.
I’d dated guys before where getting information out of them was like pulling teeth, but not with Wyatt.
A simple question and he gave me a full and complete answer.
But it also just made me want to know more about him.
“What would you do if you weren’t a bodyguard?”
His hand stilled briefly before he continued washing my body. “I’m not really sure.”
A sliver of guilt wormed its way into my conscience.
I was costing him his job. If he meant what he said when he implied he’d already given things up for me, then being with me was going to cost him more than it would cost me.
It didn’t feel fair, and I worried that he might come to resent me later because of it.
“Maybe you could do something with your hands. Like wood carving or something.”
He kissed the back of my head. “That’s not a bad idea. Did you always want to be a performer?”
I appreciated that he didn’t call me a pop star like most people did.
“Yeah, pretty much. I’ve been singing since I was little and started writing my own songs in middle school.
My parents weren’t performers, but they had high profile jobs and were always schmoozing with actors, singers, producers, agents.
It was probably part nepotism, part right place, right time that got me my start.
But once I started releasing music and performing for larger and larger crowds, I knew there was nothing else I wanted to do. ”
“Is there anything you wish you could change about it?”
“About being famous?”
He placed a kiss on my neck. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have more privacy, more genuine friendships and relationships. Most of the people I’m closest to are on my payroll, and I can’t help but think they only care about me because I pay them.”
By the way his body stiffened behind me, he knew that he fell in that category too, even if I wished he didn’t.
“I think I accepted a long time ago that what I was sacrificing was worth it. There was a moment about three years ago when I almost quit. I was so exhausted from being in the limelight all the time. I’d gone out in public and been a little bloated, and the tabloids went wild saying I was pregnant with my music producer’s baby, which was insane and completely untrue, but the story was near impossible to kill because people eat up that kind of crap.
I was going to quietly disappear and then I ran into a fan when I went out to buy groceries.
I’ll never forget her for as long as I live.
She started crying and told me how my music saved her.
Literally saved her. She was going to commit suicide after a particularly rough patch in her life.
I had just released my single “Stronger Than,” and she heard it on the radio right before she was about to down a bottle of pills.
She told me how she sobbed as she listened to every word and then played it on repeat for several hours before she called a friend for help.
That song was already a year old by the time we ran into each other, and she’d completely turned her life around.
All because my song played on the radio at the right time.
“It was the first time I really accepted that I did my job for my fans and not just for myself. There is some catharsis when I write my songs because I can write about my personal experiences in a way that’s relatable to others, so it’s not like I only do it for my fans.
But they’re a big factor in what keeps me going when things get hard. ”
I swirled my hand beneath the water, getting lost in the ripples I made. “Sometimes I feel guilty for feeling so lonely when I’m privileged beyond belief. I have a life so many people dream about, and it makes me feel ungrateful during those times when I wish I had something…”
“Something real?” he finished for me.
My chest squeezed painfully, and emotions thickened my voice when I spoke. “Yeah.”
He wrapped his hand around mine. His was so much larger than mine and yet somehow they fit together perfectly. “This is the realest thing I’ve felt in a very long time,” he said, his voice low, but every word crystal clear.
“Me too,” I confessed. And that’s what scared me so much.