Page 38 of Breathing Wisteria
The last few steps to her bed are filled with urgent touches, her tongue sliding along mine with demanding strokes. I swallow her moans eagerly, the desire to taste her everywhere is devastating.
She bounces lightly when I drop her on the bed and a giggle falls from her lips that are now red and swollen and will look pretty fucking spectacular when they’re wrapped around my cock later.
“Flynn?” The sound of her voice, small and unsure, distracts me, drawing my gaze up until I meet her eyes. “You gonna write a song about me one day?”
My heart thumps in my chest, racing in a way that makes me want to live forever just so I can experience it a million fucking times over.
The curve of Wyatt’s breast is pressed against my chest, and I revel in her softness, the way she feels under me. Over me. Any fucking way I can get her.
This feeling is slightly unsettling, but far from unwelcome. I fucked a lot of girls back home, but none ever consumed me the way Wyatt Monroe has since the moment I saw her.
Her hand is playing across my stomach, her fingers teasing patterns along my skin and when a soft sigh slips out, her breath warms my chest.
She pulls back, turning slightly so she is facing me, and her eyes are assessing.
“I liked that.”
A loud laugh rolls through me and not for the first time I consider how much I love her honesty.
“I liked it too.” I chuckle, punctuating my words with a kiss to her nose.
“You gonna write a song about me one day?”
I shake my head at her question because she has no. Fucking. Idea.
Rolling over, I press my body up along hers and thread a hand through her hair, pulling her mouth to me. She tastes like cherry Chapstick and I can’t get enough.
I pull back slightly, only a fraction of space between us, the heat of her breaths comforting, and I give her the only answer I have.
“Every song until the day I die.”
I can’t take my eyes off her, this moment shining a light on the vulnerability she normally hides so fiercely. Regret punches me in the gut as I realize exactly what I lost all of those years ago. I let guilt steal what I loved the most. I let it feed my demons and fuel my nightmares. Only she can heal me.
We can finally heal each other.
She watches me closely, exposed and waiting.
“Every song until the day I die.”
Her smile is explosive, the pull between us proving too much for her to fight.
“Cherry?” There’s an edge to my voice as I reach behind me and pull off my t-shirt.
“Hmmm.” Her voice is perfectly distracted, her eyes locked on my hands that are now working my zipper down.
“Get your damn clothes off.”
She balks at my demand, her eyes narrowing, a glint of defiance shining bright. Her mouth opens, probably to curse me out, but it closes just as quickly when I step out of my jeans and fist my cock roughly.
“Now.”
She hops to her knees, teeth biting down on her bottom lip in a way that has me desperate to lick the sting away with my tongue. She makes quick work of removing her simple white tank and yoga pants leaving her incredible curves in black lace that I’m tempted to rip off.
“Turn around.” There’s a moment where I think she’s going to argue with me, but instead her face softens and her eyes heat.
“You’ve gotten bossier, you know that?”
“I’ve just learned that sometimes you have to take what you want. Now, turn around.”
