Chapter 58 #2
“I want to be with you, too, but I can’t make you stay. Are we going to flip a fucking coin and whoever gets tails has to give up on their dreams?”
“I said I’m willing to do it.”
“And I said I’m not willing to let you.” I take a step toward him and let him fold me into his arms. Tears sting my eyes both from the thought of losing him like this and keeping him like a caged animal.
I won’t clip his wings and stuff him in an aviary.
Even if it’s gilded with a nice townhouse downtown and a new contract that will likely be worth millions.
“Why?”
I don’t look up at him. I let my words hit his chest where I keep my head tucked. “Because I love you, too. I have since before Rome. And since Rome. And right now. Which is why I can’t let you give up.”
“This is the way it has to be, Nash. I will be happy with you no matter where we live.”
“You can’t possibly know that. After a few years you’ll resent me because of this.
We’ll come visit your family for the holidays and you’ll be depressed when we leave.
In the heat of the summer every year you’ll be miserable and wishing I didn’t drag you into all this.
” I look up at him. “And I can’t bear the thought of that.
” My Wyatt. “Isn’t it better that we’re best friends for the rest of our lives than something more until things go south? ”
“So what are you saying?” I can feel him holding his breath as he waits for my response.
“I love you too much to let you give anything up. You’re too funny and kind and hardworking to not have everything you want.” The tears stinging my eyes are freely pouring now. He wipes them away with his thumbs.
“I want you.” I breath him in, cologne mixed with sweat. The smell of comfort, of home.
“You already have me.” We stand still at the top of the stairs waiting for time to come back to us.
To remember where we are, the feeling of the carpet beneath our feet.
The house holds its breath, too. Waiting to see what we’ll do.
I love him. I want him. I make up my mind right this instant.
If we can’t figure out how to make this equal in reward or in sacrifice…
at least we will have had one last night.
I put my mouth on his, breaking the tension between us. I exhale into him, and I feel the house exhale around us, too. I moan at the feeling, and he quickly pulls me into his room, never breaking our kiss. The smell of him in here is so overwhelming, it’s like I’m drowning in it. I love it.
He pushes me back on the bed and I yelp with the force. He’s always so gentle with me that I forget he’s capable of that kind of power.
“You’ve teased me all fucking day,” he whispers and somehow, it’s sexier than if he had said it aloud. “I hope you’re ready to pay for it.” Just like that, we’re back to teasing, playful friends. Friends who fuck.
I sit up on my elbows, the fire in my body starting to burn higher in anticipation of finally, finally getting what it wants. “It’s not a tease if I always intended to follow through.”
“What does that make it then?” he asks, and my smile goes from playful to devouring.
“Foreplay.”
He growls as he pushes me back down on the bed, wasting no time in flipping up my dress, revealing my lace thong. Wyatt pulls it to the side in his rush to get to my pussy. He drops to his knees and starts tonguing me though the gap.
It feels like my clit has been halfway to swollen all day.
Waiting for someone to come by and give me the sweet pressure I need.
He pulls back for a split second to blow on it gently, and the coolness of the air against my soaked panties has me bowing off the bed.
He dives back in like he’s scuba certified.
The power of his body apparently extends to his tongue because it pummels my clit in the short, fast movements I need to meet my climax.
“Wait,” I whine, “I want to come on your cock. It’s so much better when you’re inside. ”
He quickly shoves two fingers in me and gives a couple of rushed pumps.
Foreplay is not at the front of my mind right now considering I’ve been waiting for this all day.
When he stands, I reach for his cock, but he pulls my hands away and up his chest as he kneels on the bed and leans over me.
I feel the warmth of his skin as I wrap my legs around him.
There’s layers and layers of muscles there, but no ridges to his abs.
I love the thickness of him. He’s broad to my narrow, and the idea of taking his thick cock again has me squirming under him.
He reaches down to take hold of himself and lines us up, but pauses excruciatingly close to entering me to ask, “Can you be quiet?” I only nod in response, showing him how quiet I can be. “If you’re too loud, I’ll have to stop.”
I shake my head and nudge at his hips with my crossed feet, trying to urge him on like some kind of fucked-up steed.
His hips push forward and he’s inside. I take in a sharp breath at the punishing size of him.
He finds his rhythm quickly, and I let myself revel in the feel of his cock sliding deep inside me and then all the way back out until just the tip of him stays.
He snaps his hips forward and is all the way back in.
“Oh, fuck,” I cry out. He stops instantly, mid stroke.
“I thought you could be quiet?”
“I’m sorry,” I beg, my voice a whisper. “Please don’t stop.”
He picks up his speed again and I move my hand down to touch my clit while he rocks into me.
I’m honestly not sure I can be quiet. The build of my orgasm is coming so quickly, I don’t know if I’ll have the wherewithal to hold it in.
It feels so good, so right, that I don’t want to have to hold it in.
The combination of his strokes and my light caress is too much to handle. I start whimpering again, but this time Wyatt’s hand covers my mouth. “I’m too close to stop.”
Cutting off my airway just drives my need higher, pushing me closer to my edge.
“Wyatt,” I speak through his palm, his name comes out louder than my last cries.
With the hand not covering my mouth, he grabs the shirt I slept in last night and pushes it in my mouth.
The cotton instantly soaks up every bit of spit, and I bite down on it, the whining coming through my nose instead.
Wyatt holds my nose closed with one big hand, and I’ve never been so denied of air.
Never let my penchant for a little choking go as far as this.
My back curls off the bed and I cry into the shirt as I come.
Wyatt’s blows become stuttered and uneven, and I know he’s falling with me.
The second I come down from riding the wave of my orgasm, Wyatt pulls the t-shirt from my mouth. “Too far?” he asks with a seriously concerned look in his eyes.
“Just far enough.” I pull his head down to mine and kiss him. I hope I kiss the breath out of him like he withheld my breath from me. I hope he likes it half as much as I did.
I know I’m the one pushing him away emotionally, but I want to keep him with me physically. “Stay?”
“You know Ma and Pa’s rules…”
“They won’t even know,” I counter.
“We literally live together,” he pauses, then huffs a dramatic breath. “Okay. You win. But I’m sneaking back to my room before they get up.”
“You’re a grown man,” I laugh.
“I still respect my parents’ rules,” he shrugs.
My heart aches with how much I love him.
Waves and waves of it overtake me. Like I’m a grain of sand on the shore getting pummeled.
He’s too pure for this world. Is that a Midwest thing?
A Wisconsin thing? Or is it just how this wonderful man was made?
After living here for four years, I think it’s a Vandergriff thing.
And who am I to take him from that?
The next morning starts relatively early after a long night of dancing, drinking, and getting cracked. When I wake up, there’s no Wyatt. His parents get up super early to start farm chores, so he’ll have been long gone by the time the sun came up.
I roll out of bed and set to getting dressed and packing up to head back home. I love visiting Wisconsin and getting a break from the heat, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous to get back home.
I put the t-shirt Wyatt gagged me with last night in my suitcase and a shiver runs down my spine at the memory.
I mentally kick myself. I can’t keep sleeping with my best friend who’s in love with me knowing I don’t have a solution to both of us giving something up.
It’s not fair to him. Is it still leading someone on if you have feelings for them, too?
When I’m presentable, I head down the stairs. The smell of coffee brewing hits me first, and I’m hoping for a piece of leftover breakfast casserole before we leave.
I’m about to round the door into the kitchen when I hear something that stops me in my tracks.
“What about your place on the farm, son?” That sounds like Charlie.
My heart stops beating in my chest, like it can’t continue pumping blood until Wyatt responds. “It’ll be here waiting for me, won’t it?” I hear the rattling of a spoon in a mug as he speaks. “When football is done, I’ll be able to come back?”
“Of course. But how many years will that be?”
“As many as possible. I love football. If I can play an unprecedented amount of years, I will.” I hear a chair scraping the floor. Wyatt must be sitting at the kitchen table. I can see him in my mind’s eye—hair mussed from sleep, Hurricanes t-shirt on, coffee cup clutched in both hands.
“Now that Clark is gone, would you consider coming back to Green Bay?” his dad asks.
“Henry told you?”
“No, Grant did. That kid’s a loudmouth.” He pauses, looking for words.
“Listen, I know this state has had Clark up on some kind of pedestal, but he’s not from here, and now he doesn’t play here anymore.
People will move on from him now, but you?
You’re one of us. Corn stalk. Born and raised.
You belong here, and I hope you never forget that. ”
“Thanks, Pa. That means a lot.”
His place on the farm…
A parcel of land just like Henry’s. A place of his own in Poblocki… I set that thought in the back of my mind so I can work on it later.
I step around the doorway and Wyatt’s eyes snap to mine. “Good morning,” I say as I move through the kitchen toward the coffee pot.
“Good morning,” both men respond.
I use the couple seconds it takes me to get a mug down and fill it with coffee to hide my face and school my features.
Emotions whir in my mind, questions without answers.
Does Wyatt see himself coming back here when his football career is over?
If he’s so dedicated to Wisconsin, why hasn’t he done anything with his land?
When his parents are too old to work at the farm anymore, will he feel obligated to come back and help Henry?
It’s kind of pointless to think about where I could be in the future.
I’ll go wherever volleyball takes me. But when that’s over…
is Houston my forever home? Could I be happy retiring here if that’s what Wyatt wants?
I’ve got even more questions to think about than before.