Chapter 35 – Josie
chapter
thirty-five
Josie
Holy hell.
I couldn’t believe I’d come.
Twice.
Three times, if you counted that aftershock. I had no idea that was even possible. Marcus had never once gone down on me. He’d refused, actually.
Eyes on the prize, Josie. Focus on the hot hockey player on your couch.
But Waylon, Jesus. His eyes were still glued to me…there. The faint hint of a smile said he was about to dive back in.
But I wanted more. I wanted him inside me.
I pushed up onto my elbows, my whole body still humming, thighs trembling where they’d fallen open around his shoulders. My curls were stuck to my neck. My skin felt too hot and tight.
“Waylon.” My voice came out hoarse and ruined. “Come here.”
He moved up the length of my body, taking his sweet time, his lips marking a trail as he went.
His mouth latched onto the inside of my knee first, then my thigh, then the soft crease at my hip, each kiss wetter than the last, the heat of his breath sinking into my skin.
By the time he hovered above me, his face was slick, shameless, and he hadn’t bothered to wipe it away.
He just looked down at me, eyes black with hunger, mouth curled into that lazy, wicked half smile.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he said, his voice all gravel and heat.
It punched a laugh out of me, ragged and breathless. “Hi.” My hand found his jaw. I ran my thumb along his bottom lip, and he caught it between his teeth, gentle but firm, then drew it into his mouth and sucked. My whole body tensed, heat spiking in my stomach.
“Hi yourself,” he answered roughly, letting my thumb slip free, his words thick and edged with need.
I let my hands wander. Down the heavy line of his shoulders, the dip of his spine, the place where his back narrowed into his hips, that perfect V. He was warm everywhere. Solid. I could feel his dick against my thigh, hot and hard and patient, and somehow the patience was what was undoing me.
“Waylon.” I dragged my nose along his jaw. “Please.”
“Please what, Flash.” He braced on one forearm and dragged the knuckles of his other hand down between my breasts, slow, like he was mapping me. “Tell me what you want, Josie. I need to hear you say it.”
My breath shuddered out. He was looking at me like he was starving for me, and I could barely string the words together.
“I-I want you to fuck me.” It was small and honest, raw in a way that scared me a little. “I want to feel all of you.”
“You want me to fuck you, huh?” His eyes went dark, and he dipped down to press his forehead against mine. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I think I can handle that.”
He kissed me then, deep and unhurried, and I could taste myself on his tongue, salt and want.
His hand slid up my ribs, palm wide and warm until it cupped my breast, his thumb dragging over my nipple until it pebbled tight.
I gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like it was something he’d been waiting for.
“So fucking pretty,” he murmured against my lips. He kissed his way down my jaw, the column of my throat, lingering at the hollow there where my pulse was hammering. “Every inch of you.”
Then his mouth was on my breast, and I forgot how to breathe.
His tongue circled my nipple, deliberate and unhurried, before he closed his lips around it and sucked.
A noise tore out of me that I didn’t recognize, my back bowing off the cushions.
My hands flew to his hair, fingers twisting in the dark strands, holding him there because if he stopped, I might actually die.
“Waylon—oh God—”
He hummed against my skin, the vibration shooting straight down between my legs, and then he switched sides, dragging the flat of his tongue across the other nipple before sucking it into the wet heat of his mouth.
His teeth grazed, just barely, and I arched up into him, a whimper breaking out of me.
“Easy, sweetheart.” His voice was muffled against my breast, lips still moving, tongue still teasing. “I’ve got you.”
But he didn’t stop. He kept working me with that filthy, patient mouth, his free hand kneading the other breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers until I was writhing under him, my thighs falling open wider, my hips lifting for something, anything.
“Waylon, please.” I tugged at his hair, harder than I meant to.
He groaned against my skin, a sound that nearly broke me.
When he lifted his head, his mouth was shining, and the look on his face was almost too much.
Pupils blown out, lips parted, a flush riding high on his cheekbones.
He looked wrecked already, and he hadn’t even been inside me yet.
“I hear you,” he rasped. He pressed one last open-mouthed kiss to the swell of my breast before he pushed up off me, sitting back on his heels between my thighs.
I’d nearly forgotten he still had his sweats on.
Low on his hips, the waistband sitting under the cut of those carved muscles that arrowed down.
And his dick— God, the outline of him was right there, thick and straining against the soft gray cotton, the head tenting the fabric so high I could see the damp spot where he’d leaked through.
I licked my lips before I knew I was doing it.
His mouth twitched into a slow, dangerous smile.
“Yeah?” His thumb hooked into the waistband, tugging it down maybe half an inch, just enough that the dark trail of hair below his navel deepened, just enough to make my stomach flip. “You want this, baby?”
“Don’t tease,” I breathed, but my eyes were locked on his hands, on the way his fingers played along that elastic like he had all the time in the world.
“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” He dragged the sweats down another inch. The base of him appeared, thick and flushed, and my mouth watered. “Look at you. All worked up already.”
“Waylon.”
He huffed a soft laugh, and then, finally, he hooked both thumbs in and pushed the sweats down over his hips.
His dick sprang free, heavy and hard, curving up toward his stomach with a flushed head already shining wet at the tip.
Thick enough that my fingers wouldn’t meet around him, I was sure of it.
A vein ran up the underside, and I watched it twitch when he wrapped his fist around the base and gave himself one slow, lazy stroke.
I made a noise. I couldn’t help it.
“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” His voice had gone rough around the edges, but there was laughter buried in it too. When I dragged my gaze up to his face, he was watching me like he’d already won. “You’re gonna make me come, looking at me like that.”
“I can’t help it.” My thighs squeezed together on their own. “Waylon, you’re—”
“I know.” He stroked himself again, slower this time, and a fresh bead of precum welled at the tip.
“Cocky,” I managed, but it was all breath, nowhere near the dig I was going for.
“Honest.” He leaned forward over me again, bracing one hand by my head, his dick hot and heavy against the soft skin of my belly. He rolled his hips once, just to drag himself through the slickness already pooled low between us, and my whole body jolted. “Fuck. You’re soaked.”
“Your fault.”
“Good.” He dipped down and caught my mouth in a slow kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, and I could feel him smiling into it. “Hold on, baby. Let me grab a condom.”
He pressed a quick kiss to my jaw and then pushed up off the couch, reaching for his pocket in his sweatpants. I watched the flex of his back and his arms, the way his dick bobbed heavily between his thighs as he moved. His body should be illegal.
He pulled out his wallet, fished out a foil square, and turned back to me with it pinched between two fingers. His eyes raked down my body sprawled out on the couch, and his jaw tightened.
“Jesus Christ, Josie.” He climbed back onto the couch, settling between my knees again, the cushion dipping under his weight. “You have any idea what you look like right now?”
I shook my head, my curls catching on a pillow.
“Fucking perfect.” He said it slow, like he meant every syllable, the foil packet still pinched between his fingers, forgotten for a second.
His eyes dragged up the length of me, over my thighs spread wide for him, my stomach still rising and falling too fast, my breasts flushed and swollen from his mouth.
“Look at that pretty pussy, all wet for me.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I couldn’t even pretend to be shy, not with the way he was looking at me and the way my body still throbbed for him.
He tore the foil with his teeth, and I watched, transfixed, as he rolled the condom down over himself, one hand fisting slow around his length to work it on. His jaw clenched on the upstroke, a low groan slipping past his lips, and my pussy clenched around nothing.
For the first time, I felt nervous. He was huge, too long and too thick.
Way to go, Josie. Your first time, and you find a guy with an eight-inch dick?
He must have caught the shift on my face, because his hand stilled around himself and his head tilted, that cocky edge melting right out of his eyes.
“Hey.” His voice dropped, soft now, careful. He braced a hand on my knee, his thumb stroking slow circles into the skin there. “Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s going on in that pretty head?”
I swallowed. My tongue felt thick. I couldn’t quite meet his eyes, so I focused on the line of his collarbone instead, the bead of sweat sliding down toward his sternum.
“It’s just—” I huffed a small, embarrassed laugh. “You’re, um. You’re kind of huge. Not exactly how a girl thinks about her first time. ”
His mouth twitched, but he didn’t let it bloom into a smirk. “Is this the part where you ask me if it will fit?”
He leaned down over me, bracing both forearms on either side of my head, his face dropping until our noses almost brushed. The warmth of him surrounded me, the heavy press of his body steadying me in a way that made my breath catch.