Pleasure drifted through her body, releasing all her tension like a drug. She pressed kisses to his neck, shoulder, chest. Ran her hands over the muscles of his back. He cupped her face and kissed her for long, unhurried minutes. This man could make her forget everything—all the hurts from her past, all the reasons she kept herself protected now.
He rolled again, easing Gypsy onto her back and sliding between her thighs. He kissed her everywhere—her neck, her shoulder, her chest, her breasts. Gypsy combed her hands through his hair, loving the feel of it.
“Wyatt.”
He lifted his head, his drunk gaze finding hers. “Yeah, sugar?”
“I need you.” God, that was hard to admit. “Like, now.”
Heat flashed across his face. “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her leggings, rose on his knees, and pulled them down and off her legs. Then he just looked at her, which made her incredibly self-conscious. She’d lost the baby weight, and her job was physical enough to keep her fit, but she was still grateful for the forgiving moonlight. She knew too well what kind of women he usually slept with, gorgeous and built. Pleasers who would do anything for a few minutes in bed with a celebrity.
For tonight, she let herself believe this was different. Told herself this meant something, even if that something was just in this moment. Because this moment was all either of them had, and that look of raw hunger on his face couldn’t be faked.
“So fucking beautiful.” He slid his hands up her thighs, her abdomen, cupped her breasts, and finally eased his hips between her legs again.
She lost herself in his kiss. His sexy, slow, sweet kiss. Moved her hands down his back to his jeans and pushed them lower on his hips. She pulled his wallet out of his back pocket with one hand and reached between them to circle his thick shaft with the other. He groaned and rocked into her grasp, pushing his cock along her palm. His skin was like velvet, his length like steel.
“Condom,” she murmured.
“If you want me to get it,” he said, breathing heavy, “you’ve got to stop…what you’re doing.”
She released her grip. He groaned and braced himself on one forearm, then grabbed the wallet and turned it over, shaking everything out—credit cards, cash, condom. And a handful of guitar picks. One of the dark picks glimmered in the moonlight, casting an iridescent rainbow over the dark background.
She picked up the condom and the guitar pick. “This is so pretty.”
Wyatt laughed. And laughed some more.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, grinning at him.
“Just the difference between women and men. I think that condom looks beautiful, but I’m damn sure you meant that guitar pick.”
“What’s this mean? Waitin’ on you?” The letters were inscribed in metallic silver.
“It’s the name of a song I just finished.” He kissed her. “A song inspired by you.”
Gypsy’s heart danced inside her chest. She didn’t have the words to respond, but Wyatt didn’t seem to notice. He took the condom from her hand and ripped the packaging with his teeth.
Gypsy took the condom from the packaging and reached between them to stroke his erection. “Now who’s impatient?”
“Most definitely me.” Wyatt pulled her into a kiss that obliterated all thought.
She rubbed the head of his cock through her wetness, and a guttural sound rolled from his throat before his hips rocked forward. He pushed into her, slow and patient, stealing her breath. And little by little, she took him completely.
He exhaled hard. “Fuck, Gyp… You’re so…”
“So what?”
“You’re so…small.”
“Love me the way you want to. I promise I won’t break.” She slid a hand around the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers. She licked into his mouth, kissing him deep and wet. “This is your chance, Rockstar. Show me how much you want me.”
Something shifted in his expression, and he suddenly looked intense. Serious. Fierce.
His thrusts were slow and deep, but not everything she needed. Not everything she knew he had to give.
With her gaze holding his, Gypsy gripped his ass and dug her nails in, then lifted into his thrust. A look of ecstasy washed over his face. His lids fluttered. His jaw rolled. But he kept his moves measured and slow. Pleasure layered inside her, lifting her toward orgasm far sooner than she expected.
She lost herself in the moment, meeting Wyatt thrust for thrust. Too quickly, the pleasure peaked, broke, washed over her. She heard her own cries in her ears. Wyatt’s lusty growls of pleasure.
But when she floated back to earth and opened her eyes to the stars painting the sky, Wyatt was still deep inside her, and he was still hard. His face was pressed against her throat, his breath quick and raspy. Every muscle remained tight, one hand still fisted in her hair, the other gripping her ass, holding her against him.
“Jesus,” he murmured against her skin. “You blow my fucking mind.”
“I think…that’s my line.”
His hips rocked, and he slid easily inside her. “You ready for another?”
She thought about the words a second, but couldn’t get her mind to understand them. “What?”
He lifted his head and looked down at her, his expression serious and lust drenched. “Not sure I can hold out for more than one”—his lips lifted in a lopsided smile—“but I’ll give it the old college try.”
Gypsy laughed softly. “Oh, dude, you’ve already proven your rock star status. I’m lucky if I get one, and I don’t think it’s ever come that fast.” She combed her hand through his hair. “Let’s just get the same for you.”
A slow smile crept over his face. “Well, now, you’ve just stoked my competitive spirit, sugar.”
She laughed. Her heart felt light, her chest loose, her body satisfied in a way she hadn’t felt in longer than she could remember. Then he started to move again, and pleasure drifted through her, shoulders to toes.
He pushed up and rested on his forearm. With the other, he reached overhead. Gypsy tilted her head to look back and was surprised to find his hand gripping the steel edge of the truck bed and the cab. She had no idea they’d moved that far. And the sight of his corded forearm overhead trilled excitement into the pit of her stomach.
Wyatt added power to his thrust, determination in his gaze, and hunger in his kiss. Gypsy’s body rocked with the force of each thrust, stealing her breath.
Almost immediately, his hand slipped from her hair to the back of her neck, gripping hard to keep her body from sliding toward the cab. Sweat slicked their skin, and Wyatt’s hand slipped. His next thrust shoved her toward the cab. Gypsy reached overhead and planted a hand against the wall of the bed, alongside Wyatt’s. He wrapped his free arm low on Gypsy’s waist, bracing her hips against his forearm. The move tilted her pelvis up, making his body connect with hers in a slightly different, but even better place.
“Oh shit,” she murmured just as an orgasm came out of nowhere and rocketed through her. It hit harder than the first. A wicked peak that made a sound of surprise rip from her throat, but never had a chance to fade, because Wyatt was on a fucking mission.