“First, the naked part,” he whispers.
He reaches for the zipper on my hoodie and tugs it down. I was too rushed to get downstairs after my shower, so I only put my bra on and not my T-shirt. He makes a soft grunting sound at the discovery before slowly unzipping my jeans. Then he peels off my bra, taking a moment to cup and massage my breasts. He lowers his mouth to one, suckling my nipple with teasing pulls of his lips and flicks of his tongue.
I gasp. “Don’t stop!”
He finishes undressing me, then pushes me to my back on his bed. Then he teasingly sprays whipped cream on each nipple, my belly button, then a trail from the top of my mound all the way down my slit.
“Not too much there,” he murmurs, leaning over me. “I already know you’re going to be sweet.”
He trails his lips down my chin, then my throat, and makes slow work of licking the whipped cream off my nipples. They’re hard and peaked, straining for more of his warm mouth and wet tongue, but both of those things are making their way down my belly toward the whipped cream in my belly button.
I never knew the navel could be an erogenous zone, but my toes curl tight and my eyes roll back as he expertly explores it.
“Now for dessert,” Wyatt says, sliding his arms underneath my thighs. “And I can’t wait.”
I push myself up on my elbows in time to see his mouth descend on my whipped-cream-covered pussy. He strokes his tongue up my slit from bottom to top, and I can’t help it—I cry out, the sound bouncing off his bedroom walls.
“Yep, just like I thought,” he says in a low, sexy voice. “Sugar-sweet and juicy, too.”
For the next several minutes, he consumes all of the whipped cream and then focuses on running his tongue over my clit and burrowing it inside me. I come all over his lips and tongue three times; he coaxes them out of me as easily as breathing. “Wyatt, make love to me,” I beg. “Now. Please!”
“Your wish is my command,” he says, sliding up my body. Then he gives me a sexy little smile. “Or should I say, your command is my wish.”
He leans back long enough to strip out of his sweats, and now I get to see what was under his towel the other day. His cock is even more magnificent than I imagined.
“Let me grab a condom,” he says, rubbing my thighs.
“No.” I grab his hand. “I want to feel you. Every part of you. I’ve tested negative for everything, and, well, you know it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”
He leans over me. “I would love nothing more than to slide inside you with nothing between us. Come inside you. Mark you as mine. I give you my word that I’m clean and that I would never put you in harm’s way. I haven’t been with anyone—including my ex—in almost nine months. So if you want me bare, I want you to know it’s safe to do it.”
“I’m on the Pill,” I add breathlessly. Even though the idea of getting pregnant with his baby makes tingles shoot through me. “Please, Wyatt . . . now.”
He reaches down, guiding his tip to my opening and moaning. “You’re so wet, baby. I can’t promise I’m going to last long with you being so wet—and so—fucking tight . . .”
Wyatt works himself inside me as he speaks, filling and stretching me, rubbing every inch of my insides, and I am powerless against the instant orgasm that explodes inside me as his thick, heavy cock rubs my super-sensitive G-spot.
“Oh, yeah, baby,” he whispers, starting to thrust. “I need more of those.”
He hooks his arms under my knees and pushes them back, then works himself inside me with powerful, hard thrusts that have me moaning louder and louder with each one.
“Yes, baby,” I cry out, digging my fingers into his back. Heat centers itself deep inside me, coiling tight and threatening to burst again. “I’m fucking coming!”
“Come for me,” he growls, his hips never slowing their blistering pace. “That’s it. Be a good girl and come all over my cock with that juicy, tight pussy.”
I wail his name as my climax finally erupts. I clench him tight, squeezing rapidly, and come so hard I go blind for a second. Wyatt’s hips move faster, harder, until he slams into me and I feel his dick pulsing hard as he comes deep inside me.
“Fuck,” he moans, his back bowing. His forehead drops onto the pillow beside mine. We stay in each other’s arms until we can breathe steadily and our hearts have stopped pounding.
We take turns cleaning up a little in the bathroom, then dive back into each other’s arms.
I don’t want the morning to come, because it means I have to face reality.
And based on the sinking feeling in my stomach as sleep steals over me, it’s a reality that’s not going to make me happy.
7
Wyatt
When I wake up in the morning, for a split second, it feels like any other day. I’ll have to get up, go to some sponsorship meeting, then go to practice. Then I’ll come home, eat dinner, watch some TV and relax, go to bed, wake up, and do it all over again. If it’s a Sunday, then I’ll wake up and I’ll play a football game in front of hundreds of thousands of screaming fans in person and on TV.
But as I become more awake and aware of the warm bundle pressed to my side, I remember that this is no ordinary day.
This is the first morning of my new life. The one that includes Cora.
The woman I love.
When I glance down at her, she’s still sound asleep. I carefully slide away from her, pull on my discarded sweats, and head down to the kitchen to make coffee. I use my espresso maker to make a latte—I know she likes them, because she’s brought one with her before when she arrived to cook.
It occurs to me that our boss-employee dynamic has just been affected. What does this mean? She can’t work for me and be in a relationship with me. That would be weird, and I wouldn’t feel right about it.
I carry our lattes upstairs and find her sitting up in bed, the sheets pulled up under her arms. She’s staring across the room at nothing in particular and shifts her gaze to me as I enter. There’s a troubled expression on her beautiful features.
“Good morning.” I hand her one of the mugs, and she takes it with a nod of thanks.
“Caramel?” She takes a sip. “Wow, that’s good.”
I smile, relieved, and sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad you like it.” I’ll happily make your coffee every morning, if you let me. “How’d you sleep?”
A tentative smile plays around the edges of her mouth. “I slept all right. It’s the being awake part I’m struggling with.”
“Still tired? Go back to sleep.” I touch her hand. “I’ll have to leave for meetings and the gym soon, but—”
“I can’t sleep in. I have to go to work.”
I chuckle. “You’re already at work.”
Cora meets my gaze, a line forming between her brows. “Yeah. That’s the problem. I think we made a mistake last night. I got carried away. It’s been so long since someone treated me so . . . wonderfully. But that’s not my real life, Wyatt. My real life is hard work and getting me to my catering business.”