Page 17 of Made Man

I try to help him, but he won’t let me. I reach for his fly, but he’s already tearing my dress over my head, leaving it bunched around my elbows, pinning my arms above my head.

“What are you doing, Wyatt?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.” He shoves my bra up to my neck and latches onto my tit with his hot mouth, suckling hard, while he wrestles my panties off. I whimper, arching my back to free my nipple. It hurts. He’s not being gentle. He knows I like to start off gentle.

“Wyatt,” I whine and wriggle.

“Shut up, Mira. You’ve said enough. No more.” He’s not making sense, but he let go of my tit to speak, so it’s all good.

He grunts and keeps going, finally untangling my panties from my ankles, shoving my leg up so it’s wedged like a chicken wing between his solid torso and the seat. I couldn’t stop him if I wanted to, and that sets the heat swirling low in my belly ablaze.

“Don’t you ever do something that stupid again, Mira. Never—” He pants, struggling with his zipper. “Ever—” He gets it down. “Again.”

He slams his hips forward, ramming his cock into me, splitting me in half. I scream, with surprise more than anything, jerking my head up since I can’t throw a punch with my arms trapped in my bunched dress. Our skulls crack. My ears ring. Immediately, his nose swells.

He freezes.

“Goddamn it, Wyatt!” Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, he’sthick. I’m spit roasted. Stuffed like a turkey. It’s been a while, and he’s way girthier than my toys, and there are no fun bumps and ridges, just freakingmeat. Did he tear something? I was wet, but I wasnotprepared.

“Mira?” Wyatt pushes himself up on his arms, gazing down at me with such absolute terror and regret that my heart melts. His biceps bulge. They’re crazy huge for a Director of Strategic Analytics. “What’s happening, Mira?”

He shifts his hips, not much, but it’s too much. I whimper and try to relax my pussy muscles, but they’re stretched to the limit.

Horror dawns across his face. The bridge of his nose is swelling fast. Did I break it?

“Oh, shit, Mira. Tell me you’ve done this before.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’m twenty-six. What do you think?”

He blushes, and my stuffed belly warms. He’s adorable. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, hanging his head, but I notice he makes no move to pull out.

“For what?” I lift my knees and tilt my hips, experimenting. He slips impossibly deeper, putting pressure on a certain spot in a particular way that I’ve never felt before. I groan, letting the knee that isn’t trapped fall open.

“For leaving. Blocking you. Staying away. For everything.”

“But not for stuffing my poor, little, innocent pussy with that overstuffed beef sausage you’re packing with no warning at all? I can taste it in the back of my throat, Wyatt.”

That stops his spiraling. I’ve always been able to get him off track with my dirty mouth. I don’t want him to be sorry anymore. I want him to prove that he missed me—my shampoo, my toes, everything.

“Do you want me to pull out?” he says.

I do a Kegel. “Why are you always trying to bail on me, Wyatt Foster?” I tease.

His eyes darken, and something blows his self-control out of the water again. He falls on me, devouring my mouth, careless with his teeth, his weight pressing me into the upholstery and driving his cock even deeper. It rubs that spot he found, and yummy, hungry, greedy bursts of goodness make my belly quiver and my thighs shake.

I pulse my hips, chasing the high, and he groans. “Mira,” he says as he lifts himself to gaze down at me, bemused, and at the same time, so very, very serious. He begins to rock his hips, exactly like I want, as he gently guides my arms free of my wadded-up dress.

“Wyatt,” I say back to him, cradling his precious face, gently prodding the bump on his nose to assess the damage. He hisses and ducks his head away.

“Leave it alone,” he says. “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” I say, wrapping a leg around his waist so I can kick his butt cheek to urge him on. I’m good now. I want him to go faster. Harder.

He frowns at me and smooths my hair, tucking it behind my ears. “Are you okay?”

I smile up at him. “So okay. You can fuck me now like you want to.”

“You know what I want?” he asks, his eyes lighting up.

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