Wesley

“I like your tattoos,” the redhead purrs, her fingers crawling up and down my arm as she steps into my personal space.

I step out of her grasp, but she doesn’t get the hint. She giggles and follows me, her hands touching anything she can reach—my stomach, my chest, my shoulders, my arms. I want to push her off, but while women can push men off, men can’t push women even if their advances are unwanted. It’d be just my luck that she’d stumble backward or fall, and I’d be in a shitload of trouble.

I check the hallway for Anna. Maybe she can come and rescue me like I rescued her. I’m anxious to tell her how I feel once and for all.

No regrets. That’s what I promised myself when I got out of prison.

I’ve tried to stay away from Anna. But it’s like we’re connected by an invisible string. I’m drawn to her, and staying away doesn’t work. The truth is dying to burst out of me. I want to kiss her. I want to make her happy and remove the hint of sadness from her eyes. But, most of all, I want to tell her how much she means to me. How much I love her.

“God, your body is amazing,” the handsy lady says, squeezing my right upper arm, waiting for me to flex for her.

I break out of her grasp and scratch my neck. “Sorry, but I’m not interested. I’m waiting for my girlfriend.”

This doesn’t stop her the way I thought it would.

She just steps even closer, her breasts pressing into my arm, and whispers, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Why don’t you come with me to the bathroom? I can show you a good time.”

A good time in the bathroom of a bar? How tempting. Does this ever work for her?

I shake my head, repeating that I’m not interested.

I look to the bathroom hall for Anna, smiling when I see she’s finally back, but the redhead thinks I’m considering her offer. She smiles victoriously, tugging my arm for me to follow her. I’m about to make my way to Anna when I see her say something to Desirae, grab her purse, and leave.

“Anna!” I call out.

But she doesn’t stop. She looks down, and her hair drops forward like glossy brown curtains, shielding herself.

What’s going on?

Tae bumps me with his shoulder, nodding toward Anna. “Hey, your girl did not like the looks of this one bit.” He gestures between me and the redhead.

I shake off her hand. “What?” Shit. She must have thought I was encouraging this woman instead of trying to carefully reject her advances.

“You need to go get her. Now!”

I reach for my wallet to pay for my drinks, but Tae waves me off. “Just go, dude. I got this.”

I wave to Desirae, but she has her arms crossed and is shooting daggers at me. This makes me all the more frantic to get to Anna and explain. I run out of the bar, getting soaked once again from the rain. I squint, looking both directions, then take off running when I see a figure walking around the side of the building.

“Anna!”

I step around the corner and find her standing against the wall, clothes soaked through, eyes closed, and face tilted toward the sky.

“Anna.” I step in front of her and reach for her shoulders. “Hey, why did you run out of there without me?”

She jumps, stepping away from me, forehead wrinkled, eyes resigned, her pretty lips in a flat line. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” She looks at anything but me and wraps her arms around her midsection, the way she often does.

“Hey.” I tilt her chin up to face me, and she reluctantly meets my eyes. “That woman came on to me, not the other way around.”

She shrugs, brushing my explanation off, as if it doesn’t matter to her. But I know it matters. It matters a lot.

“Anna! I was waiting for you to come out of the restroom! I wanted you to come and save me like I saved you from that douche bag just a few minutes ago.”

Her hair is soaked and matted down, raindrops falling down her pretty face, and though everything is wet, I can see tears pooling in her eyes.

“It’s okay if you want her, Wes. You should go back in there. I’m tired. I’m going to head home.”

Why isn’t she listening to me? I growl in frustration and swipe the water out of my eyes. I feel this chance with Anna slipping through my fingers. Words aren’t working, but I try one more time.

I brush the hair off her face, smoothing it behind her ears, and take a deep breath for fortification. No regrets. I need to stop thinking about what could have been or what might be. Now is my chance to make this happen.

“Look at me.”

She chews on her bottom lip, shifts her weight from leg to leg, and sighs, as if I’m wasting her time. But I wait her out. Finally, she looks at me.

“I don’t want her. I want you, Anna.”

Her eyes widen in shock. “What?”

“I’ve only ever wanted you. Since I was fourteen years old and you stood in front of me to try to protect me from the damn bullies at school. I loved you then, and I love you now.” The confession pours out of me, and it feels so good.

Then, I lean down and capture her lips with mine.

I kiss her like a starving man.

Because I am. I’m starving. For Anna.

I hold her face to mine and taste her lips.

She gasps in surprise at first. But then she’s kissing me back. Her mouth opens for me, and our tongues tangle. I step in closer, erasing the distance between our bodies, and groan at the contact. Her arms wrap around my back, and her hands clutch me to her.

I don’t want to stop kissing her. Ever. Why did I stay away?

Her hands reach up to my face, stroking my cheeks, reaching behind my neck, fingers threading into my wet hair.

Yes. I want to feel her touch everywhere. Electricity buzzes through my veins.

I touch her everywhere, too. Her face, her hair, her waist, her hips. I’m hungry for every part of this woman.

She pulls back to breathe, and we’re both panting. Her smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“You…you love me?”

My smile is so big, my cheeks hurt. I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my chest. “I do. I tried to fight it. I tried to stay away so that you could find someone better than me. Lord knows I’m not good for you. But I can’t fight it anymore.”

At this, she grits her teeth in anger. “Wes, there is no one better than you! I never wanted you to stay away from me. Not when we were kids and not now. I love you, too.”

She loves me, too. My heart squeezes in my chest, and I’m not quite sure what to say back. So, I don’t say anything at all. I kiss her.

I pin her against the bricks with my hips, close my eyes, and tell her so many things with my kisses. I tell her that I’m desperate for her as I bite her lower lip. That I love the way she tastes as I slide my tongue against hers. That I want her to always be mine as I grip her waist, digging my fingers into her hips to make sure she can’t get away. She moans and presses into me, hands flitting all over, as if she can’t decide what part of me she wants to touch first.

The world disappears as I kiss Anna in the rain outside of a bar called The Grumpy Monk. Maybe ten minutes pass. Maybe an hour.

Some people walk by and laugh at us. I don’t care.

Anna is in my arms. My angel.

Lightning flashes, followed by a loud clap of thunder, startling us apart. I open my eyes, reluctant to stop touching her. Then, I feel her shiver against me.

“Cold?” It’s a hot August night, the rain a pleasant alternative to the humid air from earlier today.

“No.”

“Okay.” I lean back down to kiss her again, and she laughs, stopping me with a hand on my chest.

“Come home with me, Wes.”

“My pleasure.”

Somehow, I’m able to refrain from kissing her as she drives us to her apartment. Just barely. As soon as we’re out of the car our mouths meet again, as if we’ve been separated for years instead of a few minutes.

Our teeth clank, our feet tangle, and we bump into everything on our way to her apartment entry. Finally, I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my hips. Her ass fills my hands, and I squeeze her, as much to feel her as to support her. Luckily, no one is in the lobby, and there is only one main hall, so I lead that way without needing much instruction.

She laughs when we pass up her door, and the sound makes me feel…everything. Like I could take on the world with her by my side. Like I’m invincible. I want to make her laugh like this all the time.

Once inside, I toe off my shoes and promptly put her down when I slip on the tiled floor. We are dripping all over the place. Anna doesn’t seem to care, toeing her shoes off, too, and she pulls me down the hall, through her bedroom, and to her bathroom.

I hesitate at the door, bracing my arms on the doorjamb above me, unsure if I should follow her in. The last time I was here, she was on the floor of the shower, sobbing uncontrollably. I swallow thickly at the memory, wishing I could erase the flashback from my mind.

She looks back at me, a pretty blush staining her cheeks, lips swollen from my kisses. Nothing like that night. Tonight, she’s a vision straight out of my fantasies, her wet clothes stuck to the swell of her breasts, the curves of her waist, and the flare of her hips. My cock twitches at the sight.

“I know we’re wet already”—her voice trembles with nerves—“but would you like to take a shower with me? The air conditioner has me freezing all of a sudden.”

I’m burning up, a furnace of need and want. But I see the goose bumps dotting her skin.

“I can just wait out here while you shower,” I offer. While there’s nothing I’d like to do more than shower with her and see every single inch of her body naked, I don’t want to rush things. I want to do everything right with Anna.

“Wesley.” Her voice is a bit stronger.

“Yes?”

“I want you to shower with me.” Her chocolate-brown eyes are liquid with desire.

“Okay.”

She reaches behind the shower curtain to turn on the hot water.

“Let’s get these wet clothes off.” She pulls me into the bathroom and reaches for my shirt, but it’s heavy and stuck to my body.

These clothes are suddenly too constrictive, too tight, too claustrophobic, and I need to get them off. I make quick work of my shirt, pulling it over my head and throwing it in the corner. It lands with a thwap, and I reach for my jeans. These take a bit more effort, the denim more difficult to work with wet than dry, but they’re next to join my shirt in the pile. Then, come my socks. I leave my boxers on, though it does little to conceal my erection.

My dick is harder than it’s ever been before.

Anna stares at my body.

I stand tall, allowing her to look her fill. Hell, I want her to look at me. Anticipation has my muscles taut and my fingers itching to touch her again.

Her gaze gets stuck on the bulge in my boxers, and my cock pulses at the attention. I swear, I could come from the way she’s looking at it. Like she’s dying to see it. Like she wants to touch it.

Fuck, I want her to see it and touch it.

Her eyes are darker than before when she looks up at me. She bites her lower lip and reaches for the hem of her shirt, lifting it up over her flat stomach, then up over her chest, and off her body, throwing it on top of my discarded clothes. Her bra is white cotton, nothing fancy or lacy, but it’s wet, so it’s almost completely see-through. Her nipples are dusky shadows through the fabric. She holds my gaze as she reaches behind to undo the clasp of her bra, and I clench my hands into fists at my sides when she slides the bra down her arms, exposing herself to me.

I try not to look.

I really do.

But she bites her lip, smiling a shy smile, and nods her permission. So, I look.

I love seeing the pink tourmaline gemstone laying against her naked skin. Possessiveness wells up inside me as I continue to look at the rest of her. Then, I see it. A tattoo. Just under her left breast. I don’t know what it is at first. It looks like a bunch of short, vertical lines. Are they lowercase Ls? Ones? Is it a…fence? I’m not sure what I’m looking at until I see one diagonal line slashing across four vertical lines, and I realize these are tally marks. She’s counting something. It adds up to nine…

What’s nine? Nine of something so important that she would tattoo this on her skin. I want to ask her, but now is not the time.

I force my eyes away from the tattoo and feast them on her perfect breasts. Her nipples are pink and upturned, erect from being wet and cold, and my mouth waters. I want to suck on those nipples. I want to bite them. Pinch them. Rub my dick on them.

Come on them.

When I meet her eyes again, I don’t know what she sees in my gaze, but she starts panting like I am. Her fingers unbutton her jeans, and I swallow, jaw clenching tight.

She starts to shimmy the jeans down her hips, but they get stuck, and she laughs at her struggle, looking to me for help.

I touch her shoulders, steadying her, but it isn’t enough to help her keep her balance. She still fumbles with the wet jeans.

“Stupid pants.” She laughs. “Can you help me?”

I sit on the toilet seat and position her in front of me. She places her hands on my shoulders as I pry the wet denim down and off her skin. Her underwear is white cotton, too, and just like her bra, the wet fabric does little to hide the dark curls underneath.

I make no move to take off her underwear, but she does, rolling them down her hips and kicking them off.

Anna is naked in front of me. Naked, except for my jewelry hanging around her neck. I’m glad I’m sitting, as I struggle to breathe, sure I must be dreaming this.

Is this really happening?

I take in every divine inch of creamy white skin. The light reflects off her wet skin and makes it look like she’s glowing. Ethereal.

Like an angel.

“Anna,” I croak and then clear my throat. “You’re stunning.” Stunning doesn’t begin to describe how gorgeous she is. I want to lean forward and bury my face in between her legs. I want to nuzzle those dark curls, learn the scent of her pussy, and find her clit with my tongue.

My dick grows impossibly harder.

“I want to see you, too, Wes.”

I comply, standing and quickly shucking my boxers off. My cock juts out in front of me, pointing right toward her belly, as if it were a compass telling me which way to go.

“Wes.”

I meet her eyes, heavy-lidded with want.

“You’re beautiful.”

I’m not. I have too many hard edges, I’m too thick with muscles, and my nose is crooked from being broken too many times. Scars from either fights or work mar my skin. But she says it so sincerely that I believe I am beautiful. At least to her.

She laces her fingers through mine and pulls me into the shower stall.

I’m almost afraid to touch her. Once I start, I won’t want to stop.

Anna

Wes stands as far away from me as possible, fists clenched, muscles flexing. I might think he doesn’t want me.

Except…

His dick.

It’s so big. The skin purple and shiny from being stretched taut.

It looks angry. Intimidating. And it twitches when I look at it, which I can’t seem to stop doing.

But, when I can tear my eyes away from his cock, I look at his beautiful face. The face of the man who loves me.

He loves me.

He looks at me like he loves me, too. Jaw clenched tight, Adam’s apple bobbing. Feverish eyes roaming up and down my body, caressing every inch of my naked skin. That hungry gaze makes me bold.

I dig deep for courage and stand tall in front of him, letting the hot water run down my body, loving the way his gaze snags on my nipples. The tight beads tingle. I close my eyes and tilt my head back to wash my hair. I make quick work of the shampoo and conditioner, but when I soap up my body pouf, I hand it to Wes.

I want his hands on me.

He swallows, and I’m hypnotized by the ridge of his Adam’s apple moving up and down. I want to touch that bump. It looks so sharp, like it must hurt his neck poking out the way it does.

Wesley is full of edges and angles. His jawline is sharp, his chin solid, his cheekbones strong.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he steps forward, that heavy cock bouncing as he moves. I want to wrap my hand around it and squeeze. Would he groan again like he did when he was kissing me?

I swear, I could come just from the sound of his groan.

Or from his kisses.

He kissed me like he’d been waiting fourteen years to kiss me. Frantic. Wild. Desperate.

He’s trying to tone it down, to tame the wild want underneath his skin, in his angry cock. I can see him trying so hard.

But I don’t want him to hold back.

He’s gently washing me, moving the sudsy pouf over my shoulders first, down my arms, my stomach. But he skipped my chest. I arch my back, sticking my tits out, hinting that they should be next. My tight nipples are begging for some friction.

He raises his eyebrows in question, asking me if I’m sure.

I nod. I’m sure.

He drags it from shoulder to shoulder, and my breasts grow heavy in anticipation. The next swipe is lower, and my breaths come faster. He circles first my right breast, then my left, and back again, making a figure eight around my nipples, though he hasn’t touched those yet.

When he abandons my breasts, I whimper in disappointment.

He likes this. His lips stretch into the smallest grin.

Then, I realize…he’s teasing me.

He moves on to my stomach that’s moving in and out with every breath and then around my waist to my back, roaming over my hips.

When my legs are next, he kneels down in front of me.

Holy shit.

Wesley Scott is kneeling down in front of my naked body. Despite the hot water streaming over me, I start to tremble.

He runs the pouf up and down each leg, applying gentle pressure on the inside of my calf when he wants me to widen my step so that he can wash the insides of my legs. But he doesn’t wash the apex of my thighs.

I whimper again when he stands and discards the pouf, embarrassed but unable to stop the sound.

“Wes.”

He closes his eyes, squeezes them shut as if I’m torturing him.

“You forgot a spot. A couple actually.”

When he opens his eyes, he looks feral. On the brink.

“If I touch you, I’m not going to want to stop,” he rasps.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

He swallows, only a thin circle of blue-gray surrounding his dilated pupils. “I don’t want to rush this, Anna. I’m okay with kissing you all night long.”

“Wes, I’ve wanted you since we were kids. I’d say we’re overdue for a little bit of rushing.”

He grunts. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“You don’t need one.”

His eyes widen.

“I get a birth control shot every three months; it helps with my bad periods. And I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in a really long time.” I swallow, looking down at my feet. I’m not going to say Charlie’s name right now. Not when I’m about to have sex with Wes. “Are you clean? Have you been tested?” I don’t know if he’s been with anyone since he got out of prison, and it’s none of my business.

“I haven’t been tested, but I haven’t been with anyone.” He scratches his neck, a nervous tic of his.

“You haven’t been with anyone since you got out?”

He closes his eyes again, as if embarrassed. “No. I haven’t been with anyone…ever,” he says so quietly, I have to strain to hear him over the stream of the shower.

My mouth falls open in shock. “But what about…” Ellen, the one girlfriend he had in high school. Of course, I remember her name. But I don’t want to say it aloud either, just like I don’t want to say Charlie’s name. I don’t want them here with us.

“No one was you, Anna. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

My eyes burn with emotion. “I’m yours. Take me.”

The words leave my lips, and then he’s on me. His thick erection digs into my stomach as he presses his lips to mine. I open for him, loving the way he nips at my lower lip and tangles his tongue with mine. He holds my head against the shower wall with one hand on my chin as he devours me with his mouth. He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around him, but his shoulders bump into the wall, then his head knocks into the showerhead.

We laugh and decide there is just not enough space in this shower. Plus, the water’s getting cold, and we’re turning into prunes.

We dry each other off, taking this excuse to touch each other. His muscles ripple under my hands as I run the towel across his shoulders and down his chest and arms, admiring the angel inked on his arm with an extra pass of the towel. He helps me by drying off his legs and then toweling off his hair.

Then, he runs the towel all over my body, rubbing up and down my arms, my back, my legs, then back up my front, over my stomach, and finally, my breasts. My nipples beg for more friction, and he doesn’t hold back this time, latching on to one with his mouth and throwing the towel behind us.

He sucks from my breast, pulling the nipple, then bites it.

I hold his head to my chest as we stumble into my bedroom, not wanting him to stop. We collapse on the bed in a heap of desire, my hands exploring his abs, his ass, and finally wrapping around his cock.

He hisses at the contact, eyes rolling back as he groans, “Anna.”

I stroke the length of him. God, it’s hard.

“Anna, you have to stop. I’m not going to last.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to last. Maybe I like you like this.”

He barks out a laugh and then pulls my hand away, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand as he looks into my eyes. “I don’t want this to be over before it begins. Let me savor you. Let me learn your body.”

And he does.

He learns my nipples first, licking and sucking, pinching and pulling. He listens acutely to my reactions, repeating whatever makes me moan or gasp. I’m about to come from this when he moves lower, circling my navel with his tongue.

My legs shift on the sheets as he moves even lower still, shouldering his way in between my thighs and spreading my legs wide with his calloused hands. God, I love his rough, strong hands. The scratch sends tingles across my skin.

My cheeks heat as he stares at my pussy. My core clenches at his inspection, and I shift impatiently.

“Anna, I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he confesses, blue-gray eyes looking up at me from between my legs.

“You’re doing everything right.”

“I want to bury myself in between your legs.”

I arch my hips up at his words. “Please,” I whisper.

He holds my thighs wide open, my muscles stretching and straining against his grip. Then, he leans down and…buries his face in my pussy.

He nuzzles my pubic hair with his nose, inhaling deeply in a way that mortifies me and excites me all at once. His tongue sneaks out, digging into the curls to find my clit. I cry out when the tip flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck. Does that feel good?”

“More,” I beg.

His hands smooth up my thighs and…spread me open, exposing all of my most intimate flesh to his view. A beat passes where he just studies me.

Then, he licks me. Like a Popsicle.

Up and down.

Down and up.

Swirling around my clit at the top.

Again, he pays attention to my reactions. I moan and whimper, wiggling away when the sensation is too much. He’s stronger than I am though, and he holds me in place, forcing me to feel it. He licks me until I’m a mindless, writhing mess, begging him to fill me.

“Wes, I need you. I need you inside me.”

More licks. More bites. My clit zings, making me tremble and shake.

“Wes”—I pull at his short hair—“now. I need you now.”

He kneels in between my legs, wiping my arousal off his mouth with his arm, not taking his eyes off my pussy. Then, he strokes his erection.

God…

Why does it make my blood boil to see him touch himself?

“Are you sure?”

I hold his gaze and let him see my desire. “I love you, Wes. I’m sure.”

He smiles and it’s breathtaking, lighting up his whole face with happiness. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not, this is real.”

He inches forward and the moment his cock touches me we both moan. He moves it up and down through my wet folds, coating his head, watching the spot between my legs with wide eyes. The slippery friction on my clit sends pulses of pleasure zinging through my body. My orgasm is right in the periphery, lurking in the shadows, ready to consume me, but I don’t want to come right now. I want to come with him inside me.

With the tip poised at my entrance, he covers my body with his, linking our hands together above my head. I stare into eyes burning with passion, burning with need, and nod, wrapping my legs over his ass, linking my ankles behind him.

He doesn’t surge forward right away, and my clit twitches with my heartbeat in anticipation. He’s big. It’s been ten years since the last time I had sex. I know this is going to hurt a little, but I’m not afraid. I know Wes won’t hurt me.

He’s holding back right now.

I need him to let go.

“Love me, Wes,” I beg, flexing my legs around his ass to encourage him to move.

Slowly, so slow I might die, he pushes inside. I watch his face as he joins his body to mine, fascinated with every clench of his jaw, every grimace, every catch of his breath. The stretch is unbelievable. He feels so impossibly big inside me. Then, I think of Desirae’s words—born-again virgin. I laughed her off when she said it, but now, I think it could be a thing. I pant through the discomfort, loving the edge of pleasure and pain as he eases into me.

“Oh fuck, Anna, fuck.” His eyes are wild when he finally bottoms out, holding himself still.

I feel him everywhere. I’m so full of Wes. I have the urge to reach down and feel where we’re connected.

“Please,” I pant. Please move. Please let go.

I clench around him and feel the flutters of my orgasm approaching.

He curses. “Anna, I-I’m not going to last. I need you to come first. Tell me…tell me what you need.”

“Let go. Stop holding back. I’m not going to last either.”

His lips bruise mine with a clumsy kiss, and then he rears up, pulling my hips closer to his pelvis as he kneels. With fascinated eyes, he pulls out then pushes back in. And, fuck, I’m noisy with my appreciation of the way his length touches all the sensitive parts of me with the push and pull.

He looks up to watch me, as if enthralled by the sounds escaping me, too, and he holds my gaze as he does it again. Large fingers reach down, doing just what I thought about a few seconds ago, tracing my lips stretched so wide around him. I grow wetter. He brushes my clit in the process, and I cry out.

He grunts at this, then watches my face as he does it again, rubbing my clit up and down.

I start to shake, my orgasm barreling full speed ahead, when he picks up the pace—one hand on my waist to hold me in place, the other hand flicking my clit—fucking into me with fast, hard thrusts.

I scream when I come, not caring if the whole world hears, unable to hold it back even if I wanted to. The feeling is too intense to keep inside. Each wave of pleasure makes me jerk and shake and cry out.

There’s a litany of, “Oh God,” and, “Yes,” and, “Please,” and “Wesss!”

When I finally quiet down and regain my senses, I open my eyes to find him watching me, as if in awe of my orgasm.

“Fuck, that was hotter than any fantasy I’ve ever had.”

I smile sleepily.

But he isn’t finished.

My orgasm has given him permission to chase his own.

He holds my thighs apart as he ruts into me, watching my body from where he kneels above me. Eyes moving from the bounce of my breasts to where his cock disappears inside me.

When his movements stutter and become more frantic, I know he’s about to come. I don’t want to miss a second.

He’s like a wild animal, roaring with the force of it. He’s a lion, a gorilla, a beast, muscles straining, breaths wheezing in and out of him. And his cock. It’s jerking inside me, filling me up with his cum.

God, I want to see it.

Apparently, so does he.

He pulls out, his dick still hard and wet. And he settles in between my legs to look where he just was. It makes me clench, the absence of him so noticeable now. Clenching causes his cum to spill out of me, and he groans at the sight.

Fuck, that groan.

It’s so deep. So sexy and masculine.

He touches my pussy, running his fingers through my wet folds.

I must be a mess down there, but he’s so riveted, I don’t even have it in me to be embarrassed. I just widen my legs, so he can look his fill, wishing I could see it, too.

He pushes one large finger inside. It slips in easily, and more wetness leaks out. He kisses my clit, then crawls up my body to kiss me.

“Thank you, Anna,” he sighs into my mouth, his lips worshipping mine.

I worship him back. “Thank you, Wes.”