His lips grazed along the bottom edge of my face. He skipped my mouth, kissing down the other side toward my ear.
My breath caught in my throat, and I bit my tongue, forcing my body to freeze. Wyatt's lips ripped apart all the logic and reasoning I had to keep this by the book, to not allow Wyatt to blur the lines between mark and lover. Something about him called to me, beyond his undeniable good looks. It was a deeper call that would be the beginning of my ruin if I answered.
Which was why I really shouldn't have let this moment progress any deeper. Mr. Boots wouldn't have let me hear the end of it, but he'd get over it.
Unlike me. If Wyatt's lips on my chin had me second-guessing my very way of life, then Wyatt's lips on mine had the potential to mess things up at a level I'd never seen.
"Hey," Wyatt crooned, and my eyelids fluttered. "I can feel you thinking very hard. If I'm reading this wrong, we can go back downstairs. No harm, no foul."
No matter what I decided to do, there would be harm, and there would be foul. I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled loudly. "You aren't reading this wrong. I want to kiss you."
"But…?" Wyatt didn't give me space. He didn't lean back to allow air to rush between us, but he didn't come any closer, either.
The ball was in my court. I would've been happier if it wasn't, because then I could say after he'd kissed me that I'd had no choice.
No such luck here. I had a choice.
Too bad I almost always made bad choices.
I stretched my neck forward, flattening my lips against his. The moment our mouths touched, Wyatt sprung into action, and I got a hint to how difficult it had been for him to keep himself back. He kissed me not like it was our first time, but like we'd kissed so many times before that he already had my bits and pieces memorized. No hesitation, no exploration.
When he withdrew, he breathed out, the tuft of air sounding shaky. "You do have a purdy mouth," he whispered.
I laughed, and Wyatt kissed me again, swallowing my laughter like that had been his goal the whole time.
He kept his hands where he'd set them, one cupping my face while the other gripped my hip. His body pressed closer between my thighs, and he nestled into the crook of my body. My erection throbbed obnoxiously, making it difficult for me to think about anything that wasn't the way Wyatt was flush against me.
He wanted me as well. I felt the proof of it on my stomach. I should've guessed that he'd be packing. At this point, it felt like Wyatt's sole purpose for existing was to tempt me. It didn't even seem like he was especially trying to conquer my defenses. More like where Wyatt was concerned, my walls were made of tissue paper, and he was a bucket of water.
When he reached for the button of my jeans, I didn't think twice. I rolled my hips forward in an attempt to make the button easier to maneuver. The zipper whooshed down next, and Wyatt reached inside my pants for my dick. He gripped with all of his finger and pumped me a few times.
"Fuck!" I hissed, my hips flying off the desk ledge at irregular intervals. It had been an embarrassingly long time since a hand that wasn't my own had touched my body and longer than that since I'd been touched with such finesse.
In the back of my mind, I recognized this skill came from a whole hell of a lot of practicing and messing around, probably with customers he met the same way he'd met me. But since I couldn't keep Wyatt, even if I wanted to, I decided to let those feelings of jealousy drop. I hadn't been lying to Paul, and I was only just now sensing how much the truth bothered me. Tomorrow, I'd be gone, Paul would wake up hungover but sober, and he'd have Wyatt to himself.
So, for now, I'd enjoy being touched by a man who knew exactly how I wanted to be touched.
Wrenching his mouth from mine, Wyatt dropped to his knees, yanking my pants down with him. They caught just under my junk. The elastic of my briefs framed my balls like a shelf. Wyatt leaned in, burying his nose between my balls and my dick before inhaling.
His nose and the rushing air tickled my sensitive skin. I'd never had anyone sniff me so exuberantly before, and while that sounded strange, it felt—intimate. And not just because my erection kept bobbing against his nose.
"What are you doing, Wyatt?" I gasped as he wiggled his head back and forth.
"Memorizing you," Wyatt groaned. "I've got your scent now. There's no escape."
I chuckled, but not because I thought what he'd said was funny. It made my stomach flip over like an impatient chef making pancakes. He'd realize later how wrong he was now. But for this moment, I pushed the future out of my mind.
He licked between my balls, sucking one in his mouth and rolling it over his tongue before doing the same to the other.
I gripped the desk tightly, sure my knuckles were white. I bit my lip; a loud, husky moan threatened to burst through my teeth.
Wyatt paid no attention to my attempts to curb my responses. He made low, rumbling sounds as he worked my balls in his mouth. The way the sound vibrated, it seemed almost like a purr.
I took a chance and looked down, witnessing Wyatt in all his glory. Though he was the one on his knees, it was very clear he was the one that held the power. When our eyes met, the air between our gazes burned. A burst of pleasure rippled up my cock, resulting in a spurt of precum that splashed his forehead and dripped down to his cheek. Holy hell Wyatt was gorgeous. And with my cum glistening on his face, he looked positively indecent.
"I'm going to drain you dry," he moaned, parting his lips to allow room for my spongy head.
I knew what to expect and still fought not to pass out. His mouth was warm, wet, and tight. He used his tongue in ways that made me wonder if it was detachable. He sucked, licked and nibbled on my length. Though I was quickly nearing an orgasm, that didn't seem to be the goal of his ministrations. He looked content on his knees, doing to me what he wanted. At his own pace. On his own schedule.
He tilted his head to allow for a different angle, and my cock slipped down his throat right when I realized Wyatt's lips stretched up as far as my dick in his mouth would allow.
He was smiling.
Not to me, or for me, but for himself. Because sucking my cock seemed to make him happy.
My balls tightened, and my climax ripped through me with all the force of a cat that had accidentally fallen in a bathtub. "Wyatt!"
I came in waves. As soon as one round of pleasure ended, another began. Wyatt didn't stop sucking. He hadn't been lying; he truly wanted to drain me dry.
I let the floating, blissful feelings fill me. This was the moment I would allow myself, the only moment I could spare. Because, at the end of the night, no matter how much I hated doing what I did, it was the only way I could live free. And what was the point of living, if you weren't free? No matter how much I wanted more Wyatt—more kisses, more licks, more everything—I couldn't let any man take my freedom.
Not again.
Chapter Three
Wyatt
I checked on Paul while Kansas cleaned up. I'd offered, but he'd pushed me away, saying he could handle it. I knew he could handle it. I just wanted to be the one to tuck his cock back inside his pants. My dick was so hard it was angry. It throbbed between my legs and had been throbbing since I'd sat down next to Kansas. And after having his dick in my mouth… well, I wouldn't be surprised if I found an imprint of my pants' zipper zigzagging down my shaft.