Chapter 34 Goodbyes are a Bitch #2
He winces again, whether at my matter-of-fact tone or because of the words I used, I’m not sure. I drink my second glass of whiskey slower, allowing Wes the time to find his words.
His thumb arcs around the rim of the cup as he nods absently. “Okay. Good.” He takes a deep swig of the amber liquid. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get the wrong idea after… the other night.”
Right, because he’d been vulnerable. He’d opened up by telling me he’d wanted to stay once. Something he’d never told anyone else. And then we'd… It had been more than sex. It had been earth-shattering, but I knew it didn’t mean he was ready to stay now.
I knew it.
And yet, it still smarts to hear him say.
I’m glad I grabbed the whiskey.
I laugh without any humor and finally meet his gaze. “This isn’t anything serious, Wes. We have always had an expiration date. I know that. You know that. The whole town knows that, as much as they’re trying to pretend otherwise.” The words taste sour on my tongue, even though they’re true enough.
He stares into his glass before downing the rest of the whiskey, cringing as the liquid burns its way down his throat.
For some reason, the forlorn look on his face makes me feel guilty for trivializing what’s happening between us.
For making it seem like I don’t care that he’ll be gone soon.
I’ve been working hard to put that fact out of my mind every time we’re together.
I don’t want to think about him moving back to the city, of losing the companionship I’ve found with him here.
“There’s still a couple weeks until you go,” I point out.
There’s a good chance continuing things with Wes will cause more heartache when he goes, but I don’t want to stop what he and I have been doing.
I can’t stand the idea of not using up every single moment we have together until then.
Wes drives me wild, and I’m not ready to miss out on any of the time I have with him.
“One week and five days,” he replies.
He’s still counting down the days until he’s back in the city.
I get up and sidle over to where he sits at my kitchen table. “So, let’s make that time count.” I perch on the table in front of him and spread my legs so that he can see that I have nothing on under my oversized Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy T-shirt.
How fitting.
His hand finds my thigh and grips it roughly as his gaze lingers at my apex, burning with want. I lean back on my hands and let him look his fill. A groan rumbles from his chest. “I’ll definitely make it count.”
His fingers run a teasing circuit from my knee all the way up to where I’m wet and needy and then back down again. My breath hitches in my throat when he reaches my entrance, but retreats without dipping a finger inside. It’s agonizing, this intense need my body has for him.
“More dirty promises?” I bite back a needy sound that's working its way up my throat as his fingers inch close and then retreat again.
My core clenches down on emptiness, and my clit throbs. I want him to fill me so full that there’s no room for the thoughts that have been swirling in my head all day. I’m done thinking about him. I just want to fuck him.
When his hand makes its trek back between my thighs, I grip his wrist, not allowing him to withdraw.
His eyes bore into mine and I can feel the heat between us building. “Are you gonna beg for it, Red?”
I grind my molars together. “I never beg.”
His lips twitch. “Is that so?” His fingers slide over my skin but neglect the place that is aching for him the most.
I nod, but a whimper sneaks past my lips when he brushes ever so lightly over my sensitive bundle of nerves.
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
I release a shaky exhale as he continues the torturous circles he makes with his fingers. My legs shake as he tunnels a hand under my shirt and finds my nipple. He pinches it between his thumb and finger, and a sharp current of pleasure shoots through my clit like a lightning bolt.
I arch off the table, panting with need. My whole body is a live wire, and every little touch has sparks of lust flying through me.
Wes trails kisses up my thigh to my stomach, pulling my T-shirt over my head in one quick tug.
He nips at my breast while he palms the other.
My skin is searing from his touch, but it’s not nearly enough.
I need him inside me. I need his rough hands gripping my hips firmly when he drives into me and goes a little wild. I want savage thrusts and feral need.
My fingers thread through his hair, grabbing it by the roots. He meets my gaze, a smirk playing on his full lips before he ghosts them over mine briefly. His scent is a heady mix of dust and leather, and I can taste the whiskey on his tongue.
“Wes.” My voice cracks on his name, sounding more like a whine than a command.
His thumb sweeps over my nipple, and my body arches into his of its own accord.
“Hmm?” he hums contentedly, watching me writhe on the table in front of him, legs spread wide. I’m so hungry for his touch I can’t help but offer myself up for the taking. “Have I ever told you how pretty you are here?” he asks, brushing over my slit with hands that are much too gentle.
I groan quietly, searching for the friction I’m craving, but he refuses.
He nips at my neck, too gentle. “I know what you need, Red.” I can feel him smile against my skin.
My breaths come out in short pants as his fingers graze over my entrance, dipping in slightly before pulling back again. “But you’re gonna have to beg for it.”
I let out a distraught sound, and he chuckles, his hot breath in my ear making me shiver. His hands find my hips, and he pulls me to the edge of the table, my fingers trailing over his muscular forearms as he rocks against my center with the bulge in his jeans.
I moan at the feeling of his denim-clad erection pressing against me. It does nothing but make me feel more eager to be filled by him, and my nails dig into his skin in desperation.
I’m nothing but a shaking, simpering mess on the table.
His hands are braced on either side of me as his mouth claims mine with a sweep of his tongue.
I tear at the buttons of his flannel in an effort to get his clothes off, but my old pedestal table can’t handle the weight of both of us.
I squeal as it tips precariously, and Wes leans back to take some of his weight off the table so that it rests on its single leg once more.
It’s cold without his body pressed against mine, and I’m about to protest when his hands grip my ass and he lifts me into his arms. My lips collide with his as he walks us through the kitchen and turns down the hall. I’m not exactly tiny, but he tosses me onto the bed like I weigh nothing.
He shrugs out of his flannel shirt and scans me from head to toe before settling his gaze on mine.
I prop myself up on my elbows, my nipples pebbling as he shucks off his jeans.
I watch as he rolls on a condom and pumps himself a few times, the muscles in his forearms straining as he does.
My tongue wets my lips and I trail my hand between my legs.
Wes is to me in two strides, batting my hand away before I can touch myself. “Don’t even think about it, Red. That pussy is mine. If you want me to fill it up, then beg,” he growls.
I huff out what is supposed to be a scoff but sounds more like a pathetic whine.
His eyes find mine as he takes himself in his hand and glides his tip through my slick center before withdrawing. His teasing is simultaneously tantalizing and infuriating.
“You’re so wet, Sawyer. So fucking needy for it.”
He’s right. There’s no hiding how aroused I am or that I’m a writhing mess, hoping he’ll give in before I have to beg.
That moment is growing painfully near because I can’t stand that he’s not inside of me yet.
His soft touches are a taunt, a poor substitute for what I want, what my body is craving.
He continues to torture me, drawing teasing circles around my sensitive flesh without venturing any further while I claw at his back and roll my hips in an attempt to have him notched at my entrance.
He pulls away and clicks his tongue at me in disappointment as his thumb swipes over my nipple.
I can’t take anymore. I’m flushed red, my entire body on edge, right on the verge of combusting if only...
“Please?” The word rushes out in a whisper before I can hold it back.
Wes pauses his ministrations. “What was that?” he questions, a smirk making the gold flecks in his eyes gleam mischievously.
My nails dig into his back, making him hiss out a pained exhale. “Please.” This time the word is louder, a cry for mercy.
He moves his thumb to my clit and circles it firmly. “Please what?”
“Fuck me,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna kill you if you don’t shut up and just fuck me.”
He laughs. “Always so prickly.”
He drives into me in one smooth motion without any warning and I cry out, clenching around him. So close to coming from just this, it’s absurd. He holds himself inside me for a long moment before sliding out and slamming back into me with a brutal thrust. It’s exactly what I need.
Rough and untamed.
“Goddamn, Red. You feel like heaven. I can't imagine anything better than this.”
I hum in agreement. His words are enough to incinerate. He feels excruciatingly good as I stretch around him, and he continues to drive into me, his fingers kneading the flesh of my ass as he does. I meet him thrust for thrust and within mere moments, I’m tightening around him.
My inner walls spasm as pleasure rolls through me and explodes. I shatter, blown apart by the most intense thing I’ve ever felt. Wes’ savage rhythm turns disjointed and frantic as he follows me into the throes of bliss.
He collapses beside me in my bed, catching his breath, and I give myself a minute to soak in the post-orgasmic nirvana.
He made me beg. I probably would have done anything he’d asked me to if he had held out and tortured me any longer. I’d been wild with need.
Once the aftershocks of the sex have passed, I roll toward Wes and shoot him a glare. “I hate you.”
He barks out a laugh. “No, you don’t. You just wish you did.”
I can’t argue with that logic. It would be a lot easier to hate him. It would be a lot simpler to watch him go if I didn’t have any of these warm and tender feelings bubbling up inside.
And yet, I can’t make myself want to stop with Wes even though I know I might end up hurt when this is all said and done.
Saying goodbye will be a bitch, but I want to soak up all the time we have now because I’d hate to think I missed out on any of Wes Dawson.