With a Twist (Last Call #4)(42)

He doesn't wait for me to respond, and I don't think he was waiting for my assent anyway. Instead, his hands are pulling at my underwear, roughly on one side, but gently on the side with the wound. When he gets them down my legs, he grabs one of my ankles, raising it to pull my panties free. He doesn't bother with the other leg, preferring to leave them pooled around that ankle.

He doesn't lower my one leg either, instead pushing it up higher and draping it right over his shoulder. Hands back at my ass, he gives me a sharp pull and then his mouth is fastened on me. He first gives me one long swipe with his tongue, straight up my center, and a warbled sound bubbles up from my throat.

"So fucking sweet," he says with his lips fluttering over my skin. "Fantasized about this."

Then he's pulling me back to his face. He's diving in …  his lips and tongue pushing straight through to my center.

Wyatt doesn't just eat me …  he devours me.

I'm mashed against him so hard that he doesn't even need his fingers to help find the way. He uses pure pressure of hot tongue against skin to burrow his way in.

My eyes slide down to look at him. His golden-brown hair with my fists clenching it tight. His back rising and falling with hot and heavy breathing. I let my eyes continue to wander, straight to the floor-length mirror that is behind Wyatt, and my eyes flare wide at the sensual image projected back at me.

Wyatt on his knees in front of me.

One strong, tanned arm wrapped around the leg that is supporting me, the other bicep supporting my leg up on his shoulder with his hand wrapped over the top of my thigh. One hand flexes his fingers into the muscles of my ass and the other into the top of my leg.

The back of his head moving …  tilting …  plunging in and out as he consumes me.

I raise my gaze up and look at how my leg is hanging over his shoulder, my knuckles white as they grip his head and my own chest laboring along with this. 

It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen or done in my entire life.

Wyatt plunges his tongue deep inside me, pulls it out, and then flutters it hard against me. Out of nowhere, my orgasm crashes over me, and the one leg I'm standing on buckles in weakness as I start to collapse. Wyatt never misses a heartbeat, merely shifts his face under me for support, and lets me sag against his mouth while he continues to draw my climax out with continued assault.

The spasms of pleasure go on and on and on.

"Fuck yeah," Wyatt groans against me, continuing to lick and suck. My standing leg finds a bit of strength, locks, and then I'm grinding against him to draw every bit of ecstasy out of this experience.

Then I'm drifting away.

Eyes closed, my fingers now gently rub at Wyatt's scalp.

He pulls my leg off his shoulder …  gives a soft kiss to the inside of my thigh.

My eyes open slowly. I gaze down as Wyatt maneuvers my one foot back into my underwear and pulls them up my legs, careful to avoid the bandage. Just before he covers me completely, he leans in, plants a sweet kiss on my bare mound, and then pulls my panties all the way up.

His lifts his face to look at me, and his eyes are dark …  thoughtful.

I reach a shaky hand out to cup his cheek. He leans into me for just a second, lets his eyes close so I can see the long lashes for a brief moment against his skin, and then they open.

With a resolute look, he stands from the floor, which causes my hand to fall away from him. He takes a step back from me, glances down at the floor once, and then back up to me.

"I'll wait outside while you finished getting dressed," he says.

I open my mouth to say …  to say …  what? I have no clue. What do I say to something that was taboo, erotic, fulfilling, dirty, and absolutely mind blowing?

He gives me a short nod and turns on his boot, giving me his back and leaving me behind.





Chapter 13





Wyatt





One week later …





"This is how you're spending your last day of vacation?" Hunter asks from behind me. I push up from the deck …  lean back on my haunches.

Wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my glove-covered hand, I shrug my shoulders. "Sure, why not? Not like I have anything else better to do."

Hunter makes a sound deep in his throat and squats down. Running his fingertips over the wood boards of my deck, he gives a nod of approval. "Very smooth. Gabby would be impressed."

Of course, she would. Gabby lived, ate, and breathed all things wood.

I look around at the back deck of my cottage, which sits on stilts just thirty feet off of the beach. I had been meaning to re-stain my deck for going on oh …  about four years now, and I finally decided to do it. Didn't matter that I was undertaking this backbreaking chore at the end of July when temperatures cruised in the nineties. I had a week off from work following my return from Raleigh, and I was bound and determined to be productive.