"Andrea," he says softly, almost pleadingly, as his hands now come up to frame my face.
"So, why did I crawl across that carpet toward you? Why did I refuse to fake that act and take you into my mouth instead?" I ask him fervently.
He shakes his head … because he still doesn't understand it.
"I did it because my heart told me to do it. In that moment, my heart was already offering up a piece of itself to you. It had decided that I was going to be yours, and you were going to be mine."
Wyatt's fingers squeeze against my temple slightly. He does this because he's moved by what I've said so far, and I know this by the naked emotion on his face. But there's one more thing I need to say.
"I know this may seem weird … having feelings like that. And I really didn't recognize what was going on at that time until just recently … as I was trying to get a handle on how I felt about you now. All I know is it's really how I felt about you then. Maybe not the same level, but that's where it started taking root. When I took you in my hands … my mouth. Such an intimate act and it was beautiful for me. I didn't feel degraded … only fulfilled."
"Fuck, Andrea," Wyatt growls out, and his arms band around me, jerking me into him, his face going into my neck. "Fuck, baby. I've felt so bad about that. It's weighed on me, you have to know that, or you wouldn't have bothered to give me that speech."
"I know," I murmur as I snuggle in deeper to him. "I know and I want you to know that you have nothing to feel bad about. That was our first beautiful moment together. Our second was in that locker room … your face between my legs-"
"So beautiful," he says and squeezes me hard.
"You see why I had to come and see you?" I ask him. "I had to let this continue to play out. We weren't done."
I don't know how he does it, but one minute I'm kneeling before Wyatt and the next I'm in his arms and he's carrying me up the stairs, blanket and wine completely forgotten. My palm lays against his chest and I can feel how hard his heart is pounding.
Straight to his room … his stride never wavers. He sets me gently down on the floor and when I'm standing steadily, we both proceed to remove each other's clothes. We do this taking brief moments to kiss, stroke, or squeeze exposed skin. But there's an urgency riding hard within us so we don't linger too long.
When we're both naked, he turns away from me, crawls onto the bed, turns over, and lies on his back. Reaching a hand out, he says, "Come here, Andrea. I want you straddling my face."
I swallow hard and his words alone have the space between my legs cramping hard with anticipation. Reaching out … I take his hand and he pulls me toward him. One knee goes up on the bed, then another, and then both his hands are on me and he's pulling me up his body.
"Yeah, baby," he rasps out. His muscles bulge as he lifts me slightly, pulling me right up and over his face. His breath is hot on me, and I shudder when he says, "Yeah … want you on my face so I can show you that you're mine. Then I want you straddling my aching cock. I want you to ride me … show me that I'm yours."
"I can do that," I manage to whisper but then that turns into a gasp … then a moan as his head tilts up and his mouth closes over me.
Oh, God … oh, my freakin' God. Wyatt's mouth and tongue should be licensed weapons, because surely, I'm going to perish from how good this feels. I grab onto the headboard, because if I don't, I will collapse on him due to the weakness in my legs.
Wyatt devours me from below, groaning his own pleasure into me … causing vibrations and skittering impulses to fire off throughout my body. It's seconds only … maybe milliseconds … but I don't hold it back and I come harder than I ever have in my life.
And because I want to show Wyatt that he is indeed mine, I manage to haul my pleasure-flushed body down his and sink onto his hard shaft. I ride him good and long, I fire off one more time, and then he's coming deep inside of me, knifing up into a sitting position, and fusing his mouth with mine.
He pours out the most beautiful moan into my mouth while he shoots into me, and I think to myself … yeah, we are never going to be done.
Much later … after Wyatt is asleep, I grab my laptop and creep out into his living room. In the dark, I boot it up and wait for it to connect to his Wi-Fi. I pull up my browser, which preloads with open tabs for Facebook, Twitter, the FBI secure-server email, and Google.