Chapter 78
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
I knew the answer before I asked. I asked to see if Wyatt would tell me a lie to make himself feel better.
He didn’t. And somehow, that does make me feel better.
In the last few weeks, I’ve found my resolve dropping. Wyatt’s system has given me the space I’ve wanted. They’ve been present, engaging me in conversation over meals and sticking their cold feet on me at night, but never tried to use me to make themselves feel better.
It’s hard to get attached as a therapist. I can never get out of my goddamn head. I want to make the best choices for me in an imperfect world, and that’s fucking hard to do.
Wyatt’s jaw is clenched, and he won’t look at me. There are lines of tension through his body, and I know it’s because he’s afraid. And just the same as it’s been since I met him, I don’t want him to be scared.
I want him to be happy. And not in some codependent way where I need him to be happy in order for me to be happy. I’ve spent the last few weeks making sure I’m happy on my own. Managing my own emotions. Meditating. Breathing. Mourning.
What else does one do after surviving a fucking murder island?
The mourning kicked me in the ass. I had to mourn Elijah, even though I barely knew him, and I had to mourn Connor all over again.
At a deeper level, I had to mourn the idea that life isn’t stable.
It can literally change at any moment and rip things away that you love and care about.
You can’t avoid loss by running from love. Running from love is a loss itself.
And here I am, wanting to love more. Because I care about Wyatt. I care about Oakley. And I care about Kyan. Not because I need them to make me happy. But because I’ve seen them. And I fucking care.
With a quiet rush, the last of the wall of my reservations crumbles into pieces around my feet. I want to stop running from the fear. I want to live again. Maybe for the first time since I was a kid.
I straighten, looking at the man beside me. He taps his finger on the railing.
“Knees.” My voice comes out soft.
There’s a beat, and then Wyatt turns to face me for the first time.
“Knees.” The demand is there again, but harder this time. I know how to help Wyatt overcome that fear. I also want this. I fucking want this. Even if I have to lose it.
Wyatt looks at me like I’m not sure what I’m talking about, so I snap my hand up to his shoulder, putting my lips up to his ear. “Bad boy.” I squeeze his muscled shoulder, and he shivers.
“What are you doing?” He’s hesitant. Probably wondering why I’ve done a 180. I need to show him I’m serious.
Suddenly, I have an idea.
“Take your shirt off,” I say.
Wyatt still looks confused, but does as I say. His muscles ripple as he takes it off, and pleasure fills me at his obedience. He’s strong enough to ignore me, but he chooses to obey. It’s some sort of fucked-up power structure, like a wolf that sits when I give the command.
“Pants too.”
Now Wyatt hesitates. He’s either testing me, or he isn’t confident. Both of which I don’t like. My role right now is to take control, and his is to give it.
“Fine.” Slowly, I hook my fingers under the hem of my pants and drop them down. “If you want me to piss on them, leave them.”
Wyatt’s eyes widen, and his pupils blow, and I fucking love it.
“Your job is to obey. My job is to worry about the why. You didn’t obey fast enough, so now accept your punishment.” I pull my pants completely off, and the way Wyatt looks at me can only be described as worship. I see the stress of everything slip away from the edges of his eyes.
“Make me come.” I put my leg up on one of his thighs, baring myself in front of him.
This time, Wyatt doesn’t wait. He kneels, burying his face in my pelvis, pulling a deep breath in. Then he lets out a little groan and eats. He licks and nips and sucks, immediately tingling my clit, throwing glances up at me. I see the question in his eyes. Will I piss on him right now?
I just smile, and he buries his face deeper. Wyatt eats me until I see stars. I wait until my muscles are clenching, and then I come all over his face. The waves of pleasure overwhelm me, and I groan, grinding into him.
I wait until he’s eaten me through the orgasm.
I’ve had some clients with a piss kink before, and I’m fairly certain the turn-on for Wyatt is the degradation.
The ownership. The idea of degrading him is hot to me too.
There’s something about the way he turns his eyes up at me, knowing how dangerous he is.
How he could take my life with a blink of the eye, and yet he chooses to let me call him a bitch.
I’ve touched myself in the shower thinking about it, and from that, I know that I need a few minutes afterward to loosen up the muscles so I can piss.
“Get your dick out,” I demand, and Wyatt slows his eating, those dark eyes turned up at me. I see his hands move to obey, but he doesn’t stop eating me, which just makes me continue to tense. I step back, but Wyatt just scoots forward, chasing me.
“You think you’re in control?” I trace my fingers down his forehead and press him back gently.
“Please,” Wyatt grunts, looking hungrily at me.
“Please, what?”
“Let me eat.” His growl is primal.
“No.” The denial is hard, but the anger in his eyes is worth it. Wyatt is angry, but still, he listens.
“Pitiful boy.” I grin down at him. “Begging for my cunt. Now play with yourself.”
Wyatt’s gaze flutters, and I see his shoulder moving as he jerks. His huge body is submitting to me, giving me all the control.
So I’ll reward him.
“Last chance for your pants.”
He just looks up at me, eyes almost fully black. He wants this. He’s fully invested.
And so, I step so I’m over his chest and piss on him.
As soon as I do, Wyatt groans, throwing his head back.
The veins on his neck stand out, and his eyelids flutter, his breath coming quickly.
It makes my own breathing pick up, his enjoyment sending tingles up my spine as goosebumps break out on my skin.
“I own you.” The words feel true as I mark him as mine in the most primal way. Wyatt is mine.
Wyatt jerks himself harder as the liquid slides down his sculpted chest and onto his dick. That’s when he groans, and his eyes squeeze shut.
“Eyes,” I bark.
Immediately, they open, and Wyatt’s looking at me, pleasure glazing his expression. And then he’s groaning, and he comes, shooting all over his hand. My cheeks are hot, and I can feel my heartbeat in my ears.
Wyatt leans over, keeping his gaze on me, and kisses my inner thigh. His scruff tickles as he kisses and licks and worships my skin. It sends tingles up my arms.
“Please,” he says.
“Please?” My voice is hoarse.
“Let me eat.”
Wyatt nips my skin. “Please.” He looks up at me with pupils so blown that his eyes look black. There’s a breath in time where we just hover there, suspended, the tension between us burning like a live wire.
Then, it snaps. Both of us move toward each other at the same time.
Wyatt’s mouth collides with my pussy, adjusting to suck my clit with fervor.
He pulls it into his mouth, the pulsing sensation shooting pleasure through me.
He keeps at it, breathing heavily, maintaining a steady pace.
One hand is on my thigh, and the other grips my ass, squeezing to the point of pain, which just adds to the swirling in my head.
Wyatt eats me like a man starved, and I let him.
I lean into it, letting go of everything else, just focusing on this moment.
This moment where he’s making my body sing with pleasure and overstimulation.
It ramps up to the point where all I can feel is him sucking and pulling on my sensitive flesh.
I try to pull away; it’s buzzing around in my head so much I don’t know if I can take it. Wyatt doesn’t let me; he just pulls me closer, fingers digging into my flesh.
When I come, it’s explosive. The waves of pleasure wash over me in overwhelming ecstasy. After the first huge waves come the smaller ones, leaving my head buzzing and my body alive. My body that’s starting to feel like jello.
There’s a tugging, and I realize Wyatt is pulling me down. I fold into his lap, and he wraps me up in his arms, both of us covered in sweat and piss. And somehow, it feels appropriate for…this. Our relationship has never been sparkly and pretty. I don’t want it to be.
We lay there for a while, the birds singing around us. This was perfect… The only thing missing is the loving, nervous Oakley.
Wyatt strokes my hair. “What’s Oakley doing?”
I glance at him. How in the fuck is he reading my mind? If he can read my mind, I’m so screwed. Although I’m beginning to think I’m screwed anyway.
Wyatt just smiles softly. “If you need moral support while you yell at him, I’m here.”
I snort. I don’t need to yell. I just needed space to process the disappointment. I can see past the disappointment now. Now I see…other things.
“Or I can hold him while you remind him that no one takes Fourteen,” Wyatt’s tone is suggestive.
I do a double-take. Does he mean…hurt him?
Wyatt just raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think I don’t know about the game you had planned.”
My cheeks get hot. Of course he knew. Clearly, there are no secrets here.
“I thought it was a good plan. Minus the whole ‘don’t hurt him’ thing.”
Now my cheeks are really burning, and I bury my head in his chest. Wyatt puts his hand on my forehead and pulls my head back gently so he can look at me. “Hey.”
I glance away, the feeling of his eyes staring deep into my soul unsettling. Unsettling and yet, somehow, the most intimate I’ve felt in a long fucking time. I can’t look away for long before my gaze is back on his.
There’s the tiniest crinkle in the skin around his eyes. “I know why.”
I frown. “What?”
“I know why you didn’t want him to get hurt.
” Suddenly, Wyatt’s gaze turns serious and almost…
sad. He looks at me like I’m the only person in the universe.
It’s terrifying because I’m laid bare before him.
He’s seen the real me, the Holli I used to be, and the Fourteen I became.
And all I see in his gaze is obsession and… something else. Something soft.
“If you want, I’ll help you make a better game. We don’t have to hurt him, but you can get payback.”
Immediately, I know that’s not what I want. I bury my head in his chest again.
Wyatt lets me, petting the back of my head.
“Or…” The petting continues. “We could do something else. Something more fun.” His voice trails off with something gravely and suggestive.
The upturn in his voice hangs heavily in the air. Is he…what is he talking about?
I look up at him. He looks down at me and cocks an eyebrow. He looks at me like he’s challenging me.
“You know, since you want to fuck him but you’re too afraid to make a move.”
Outrage burns in my chest, and I pull back. Did he just…excuse me? “I’m not afraid.”
“Sure. And I’m not crazy,” Wyatt’s tone is deadpan.
I smack his chest.
“If you’re not afraid, then call him in here.”
“I’m not afraid!”
He stares at me.
“Fine!” I stand up, heart beating with righteous energy. I’ll invite Oakley. I have no problem with that. I’m not afraid of him. If Wyatt wants to test me, I’ll bring Oakley in and fuck him right in front of him.
The thought makes my heart race and my head start buzzing again. Fucking Oakley in front of Wyatt? Oakley on his knees, looking up at me with those eyes.
My hand hits the cool door handle, and I pull.
It doesn’t open.
I frown and try again, but it doesn’t open.
Oh my god. It’s locked.
Slowly, I turn to look at Wyatt. “Did you lock this before you came out?”
He just snorts.
Cool. We’re locked on the balcony covered in piss, and now Oakley’s gonna have to come save us.