The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(91)

His head lowered and he brushed his lips against the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder. “I take my role very seriously.”

I tilted his face to mine and kissed him. He straightened up and I had to crane my neck to keep eye contact.

“I love that you tower over me,” I whispered against his mouth as he backed me up toward the hallway, en route to his room.

“Yeah? Well, I like how small you are. You fit right under my arm.” His arm came around me and he tugged my dress zipper down. My fingers found his shirt buttons and fumbled at them. “You think you’ll fit me everywhere?” The teasing, dark tone of his voice made my center clench.

I nodded and it was like the orgasm I just had never happened. I was wet again, ready again, wanting more. Wanting all of him.

We stepped into his room, hands working fast to undress each other. He slipped my dress off my shoulders and it pooled at my feet. I lagged behind, with only a few of his buttons undone. He pulled me against him, slid one bra cup down and slipped a stiff nipple into his mouth. I gasped. The buttons of his shirt were on the opposite side to what I was used to and the tug of his mouth on my nipple made my mind dizzy.

“Come on, catch up.” His finger rolled the other peak and I whimpered.

“I’m trying.” A futile laugh escaped me, and my head fell back.

He took mercy on me and undid his buttons, never taking his mouth from my breast. I pushed the shirt off his shoulders and roamed his hard chest, brushing the light chest hair and scraping my nails up his abs. The muscles jumped under my touch, and he shuddered against me before pushing me back onto the bed.

My bra had come off at one point—was that me or Wyatt?—and I laid there in my underwear.

Wyatt loomed over me, placing a hand on either side of me on the bed, hovering and watching like a predator. His gaze traveled over my nearly naked form and desire flashed in his eyes. He wanted me. Something hungry and excited fluttered in my stomach.

“Look at you, laying on my bed like a fucking goddess.” He leaned down to suck one pinched peak into his mouth and I arched against his mouth.

“Take your pants off,” I gasped.

“Slow down.” He kissed up my chest to my neck and his fingers toyed with the edge of my underwear, below my stomach. “I’m not done with you. If I slip my fingers lower, am I going to find you wet?”

I nodded.

He made a noise of satisfaction. “Good girl.” He slowly, so painfully slowly slid his hand into my underwear, and when he touched me, I whimpered.

“Very, very good.” He swirled light circles on my clit and I gripped his arms, my nails digging into his muscles as he wound me tighter.

“Look at you, doing so well.” His gaze was full of pride, satisfaction, and need. “You know that if you let me do my work, you’re going to come. Isn’t that right?”

I nodded, chest heaving.

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.” His fingers worked and my inner walls tightened. It wasn’t enough. It was so, so good, so deliriously good, but it wasn’t enough. My hips bucked against his hand for more pressure. “What is it, baby?”

“More.”

“More what?” His voice was teasing. He knew. He fucking knew it wasn’t enough and he toyed with me, but a sick part of me kind of liked that.

I nodded hard. “More. More everything.” I reached for his cock, straining against his jeans and he groaned as I stroked his hard length. “I want to come on your cock. I want to feel you come while you’re inside me.”

He laughed a dark laugh against my neck. “Ohhhh, you are in trouble now.” His fingers swirled faster. Heat built low in my belly and I arched again. “This is for being brave tonight and going up on stage. Do you know how fucking proud you made me up there, baby?”

Faster, faster, faster his fingers moved and my head fell back. His cock pulsed under my grip and I moaned. He added pressure to my clit and his other hand came to my breast, pulling and rolling and pinching the tight bud.

“Wyatt,” I gasped.

“That’s for scaring me and hitting your head the other day.” His voice was rough and his hand worked faster. He shifted back onto his knees while I writhed on the bed. He studied me with an intense look, focused and watching where his hands touched me. He slipped a finger inside me and I bucked, cried out, and nodded for more.

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? That’s for being so fucking gorgeous and making me hard all the time.” He slid the finger in and out, stretching me. My walls tightened around it. He shook his head in awe. “Holy shit, baby, you are squeezing the life out of my finger.” He added a second and I moaned.

The heat coiled around the base of my spine and I was a puppet, strung along by Wyatt as he controlled my body and pushed me toward what I needed.

The second finger added the fullness I needed and I winced with pleasure.

“This?” He curled his fingers and hit that sensitive spot inside. “This is for making me fall head over fucking heels for you.” He massaged the spot on the front wall and my mouth fell open. My body bowed, bucked, arched under his touch. One of my hands clenched the duvet, the other gripped his strong thigh.

“Yeah, Hannah?” His tone was light but his voice rasped like sandpaper. “Is that the spot? Is that the spot that’s going to make you come harder than you ever have?”