Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(34)

“Not yet.”

He replies by moving to suck on my neck again while his hand slips under the covers and over my panties.

I part my legs more, and he dips his fingers between them over the thin cotton barrier. “Fuck, Ellie, you’re soaked,” he moans.

“Touch me, Wyatt.”

He covers my mouth with his again, his tongue gliding against mine, his hard body pinning me down, one hand stroking my hair while his fingers slip under my panties to trace my seam.

We both groan into the kiss, and I suck hard on his tongue when he slides one digit inside me.

He moves slowly, carefully, while I test arching my hips into his touch. “More,” I whimper.

“You are so fucking hot.”

We dive back into the kiss while he adds another finger. I reach between us and fumble with the button on his shorts. When I finally reach inside and wrap my hand around his solid cock, he jerks his fingers hard inside me, reaching that desperate, aching, needy spot deep inside. “There,” I gasp, squeezing him harder.

“Christ, Ellie, that feels good.”

“Deeper, Wyatt, right—oh, god, right there.”

I pump him faster while he drives his fingers deeper. I lift my right knee to give him a better angle, jerking on his cock and tightening my grip until— Until the tickle.

The tickle behind my left eyelid.

“Oh—ah—no—ahh—”

“Come for me, Ellie,” he pants. “Fuck, I can’t—you need to—you can do it—”

“Wya—ah—ahh—”

“That’s it, baby. That’s—”

“Ah-CHOO!”

My orgasm explodes, and pain explodes in my nose as the sneeze rockets through me and my head collides with Wyatt’s. Something hot and wet squirts up my breast and into my armpit, and Wyatt grunts out a fucking hell before leaping back, covering his cock with one hand and his eye with another while he dashes to the bathroom, his shorts falling to his knees.

My eyes are stinging, my nose throbbing like someone’s hammering a nail into it, and my pussy is still having orgasm aftershocks like it’s no big deal that I just sneezed all over Wyatt and head-butted him in the middle of a heavy petting session.

I sneeze again, pain shoots through my entire face, and I stifle a whimper.

“I’m sorry,” I call weakly.

Wyatt reappears in the doorway with his shorts back on and a fuzzy gray dog in his hand. I think. My vision’s a little blurry with all the heat in my eyes, and I don’t know where a fuzzy gray dog would’ve come from.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m sorry,” I babble again. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t realize—that’s only happened one time before—”

“Didn’t need to know that,” he mutters.

He rubs a towel—not a fuzzy gray dog—over my chest and side, and I realize he was in the middle of his own orgasm when I gave us both broken faces.

“Am I bleeding?” I whisper.

“No.”

“Is your eyeball okay?”

“Yep.”

“Um…thank you for the orgasm. It was very nice.” Oh, fuck. I’m going to have a swollen nose for Monica’s wedding. I’m going to ruin her wedding pictures.

Then I remember this is Monica, and she’ll spend the rest of her entire life telling people I helped beat off the pirate vagabonds who tried to kidnap her from Jason at the wedding, and I even have the bruised nose to prove it, and I snort out a laugh.

And then I whimper in pain, because snorting and broken noses don’t mix.

“Fucking hell, Ellie,” Wyatt mutters. “We have issues. Can you walk? How’s your leg? Get up. You can sleep in the guest room. I’ll clean this up tomorrow.”

He’s still holding his eye while he finishes wiping me off.

“Are you sure your eye’s okay?”

“Yes. Go on. You can’t keep going on no sleep.”

“I can clean this—”

He stands, plants his fists on his hips, spreading those shoulders even wider and holy banana pudding, the man could probably crack a walnut with those ab muscles.

He clears his throat. Oh, right.

He’s glaring at me. “I’m aware you’re perfectly capable. And I’m going to clean this, including the banana pudding, and you’re going to go to sleep anyway. Say thank you, Wyatt.”

I glance over and realize there is, in fact, banana pudding spilled all over the comforter.

“Thank you, Wyatt,” I mutter with a sigh as I silently mourn the lost dessert.

“Are we done arguing now?”

“Are we ever?”

His lips twitch again, and dammit, now I’m on the verge of smiling too, despite the pain still radiating out of my nose.

“Make you a trade,” he says suddenly.

“Why do I not trust you?”

“I’ll let you clean this up tomorrow if you show me that notebook you took away from Tucker this morning.”

I scurry out of the bed as fast as my leg will let me go. “Fine. I’m going. But if this swells up and bruises, I’m telling people I tripped while saving Tucker from a rabid coyote.”