“Not today.” He spoke boldly and with such strength that he seemed undeniable. “Today, I want to watch you touch yourself.”
I swallowed and managed to squeak out, “What?”
“One of those ideas I mentioned.” He smirked, and then he reached down and squeezed his cock through his jeans. “I’m not planning on just gawking. I want you to watch me, too. I want you to think about what I feel like and how watching you is turning me on.”
I had tried lots of things with men, but not this and much to my surprise, I literally almost drooled at the thought of seeing his hand on his cock. I couldn’t take my eyes from where he was holding himself.
He let out a brusque chuckle. “I guess you like this idea.”
I swallowed and nodded.
With that, he ran his hands up my thighs again, only higher this time, and I lifted my hips so that he could shift my skirt until it was also around my waist. Then he gripped my panties and pulled, removing them in one swift movement. I couldn’t help myself; I laughed because it’d never occurred to me that one could be a master of panty removal.
“What?” He smiled.
I smiled back. “You’re good at that.”
“Does that bother you?” he asked gently.
“Nope. It amuses me. A hidden but very useful talent,” I quipped.
He bowed a little, then pushed my knees apart, exposing me as he said, “It is my pleasure to serve.” I watched him focus his eyes on my folds. He bit his lip and instinctually, with no pretense, he breathed, “Fucking gorgeous.” Then drawing in a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and before opening them, he said, “Promise me I’m gonna get to taste that pretty pink pussy, Caro.”
In my mind, I pictured him on his knees, his face buried between my legs. I wanted that more than I wanted to breathe. Somehow I managed to say, “You can. You can now. If you want.”
Eyes still closed, he shook his head no. His voice trembled as he spoke. “I have a plan. It’s a good plan. But I need to know that if I follow my plan and it doesn’t work, you will still let me taste you.” He took another deep breath and opened his eyes, drilling into me with his gaze. “Promise me that someday you will ride my face.”
He waited as I ingested the brazen truth underlying his words. Wyatt Morgan wanted all of me, perhaps in a way that he didn’t even realize. Less surprising, I wanted him to have all of me.
“I promise,” I said.
He let out a heavy breath, and then he unbuttoned his jeans. He made a show out of pulling down the zipper. He was naked underneath. That seemed right, like it was a character trait to forgo underwear. He didn’t take off his pants, just freed his cock. Then he stepped forward and took my hand in his, moving it down so it was between my legs.
“Stroke your clit for me,” he commanded.
I did as I was told. I’d been soaked and aching for quite a bit so I didn’t hold back.
“Slower,” he demanded. “Pretend you're me. Imagine those are my fingers and that I want to draw out your pleasure. Feel how it turns me on to touch you, to feel the silk of you, slick and wanting.”
I closed my eyes and focused on feeling him touching me. I listened to my panting breaths and his. I imagined the coarseness of his fingertips slipping against my soft pink skin and I felt a spark of something unfamiliar: pleasure.
“That’s it, Caro,” he cooed.
I opened my eyes to the fire of his desire for me. He was standing between my legs, his cock a handful of inches from where I really wanted him to be, stroking. I couldn’t explain it. Knowing that he was imagining me, dreaming of being deep inside me and watching his hand move over his shaft was so sexy. It was base and animalistic and dirty, and it made my mouth water and my pussy clench.
“Faster now,” he commanded, following his own order, the head of his cock disappearing and reappearing as he jerked it. His eyes were on my fingers and his face was pinched with the tension of his own pleasure. He lifted the hand he wasn't using to my leg and held on. When he touched me, something in my core unraveled and I cried out.
“Oh fuck, baby. Just like that. Show me, Caro. Show me how you come.”
And to my total shock, I did.
11
Wyatt
Justifiably sour, I made as much grumpy noise as I could climbing the stairs to head for the bathroom. I had to take a shower before dinner because Caroline was coming to my family’s goddamn get-together. I got a text from her earlier in the week. She ran into my dad, Luke, and Bill at the Conway Cafe. She was having lunch with Bev, which she does every Tuesday. So, I’m guessing this run-in was not wholly a coincidence because Tuesday lunch outings are not really a Morgan family behavior, but fine. Caroline noted that my family would not take no for an answer, so she would be joining us for dinner. Caroline texted to warn me because she wasn’t sure where family dinners fell in the spectrum of the rodeO agreement.
Everyone was going to be here because ever since Sarah, Cody’s twin, went and got famous, my father made a big show of having all of us together for dinner anytime she was home for a hot minute, which was great. I loved my family. They were smart, caring people who had the best intentions. But they were fucking meddling in my life and I didn’t like it. Also, they were terrible at it. Meddling is an art form. You have to finesse a meddle. They were amateurs, pushing Caroline on me, acting like just putting us in the same spot was enough to cause a chain reaction. I mean, come on, I already saw her constantly.
Once they invited her, I wasn't gonna turn her away. I was never going to treat her unkindly, but it was so not okay that she was coming to my damn house for dinner. I didn’t need that shit. I didn’t need to see Caroline yukking it up with my brothers and sisters, playing with my nieces and nephews, and helping my dad. I didn’t need to actually know that she fit right in, just like I thought she would because Caroline wasn’t mine. And even if she didn’t know any better, I did. We were not well suited. Yes, I had a certain set of skills that were serving her well for the moment, but I was not the man for Caroline Winchester. I was not her equal. Period.
Slamming the bathroom door, I turned on the shower to let it heat up and then sat down on the toilet to take off my boots. I pulled at them with as much force as I could muster and then threw them at the floor, an ineffectual attempt to try to take my anger out on my boots rather than my family. Wasn’t it bad enough that the best moments of the last few weeks were the moments I spent with Caroline? Did I really need to add more memories of her to my repertoire? Wasn’t it enough that I knew all her laughs? The intensity of her focus when she was working? The tone she used when she was being professional? The way her fingers curled and clawed right before she came?
Barefoot, I stood and slipped out of my pants and tossed them and my T-shirt in the hamper in the corner. Naked, I tested the temperature of the water with my hand and then stepped into the spray, letting the warmth run over my face and hoping it would calm my annoyance.
So far, my time with Caroline was so intense that I was certain it was gonna brand me for life. I’m not gonna lie. Getting her off that very first day, priceless. My ego was ten stories high for a good week. But it wasn’t just about getting sexy. I loved being with her. I loved listening to her talk and watching her work. She was so devoted, so passionate. Everything she was doing with the rodeo was amazing. She had convinced people and businesses from all over the state of Montana to sponsor the event. She had reached out to other special needs programs to encourage attendance and hired a qualified staff for the day of the event to help determine which kids were best suited to participating in which elements of the day. Every time I thought the event couldn’t get better, she thought of something bigger, bolder, and more considerate. Seeing her succeed was almost as hot as getting dirty with her.