What’s more romantic than long, awkward silences followed promptly by more long, awkward silences? How about long, awkward silences after listening to one another take work calls that you know are being taken only to avoid speaking to the other person?
Not that I was expecting this to be anything other than…friendly.
Wrong word.
Let’s try again.
Cordial?
No. Sounds too warm, like socks and kittens.
How about polite?
Better.
While I was expecting the two of us to be polite, considering the long ass plane ride we have to endure with one another, that went out the SUV tinted window the moment I got in the vehicle, and he couldn’t bother to muster up a hello.
Just a fucking wave.
Like a Backstreet Boy on tour in the 90s.
I swallowed my irritation, placed headphones in my ears, and busied myself on my phone. When he finally finished, I put an immediate call into Yasmine, my closest friend, to needlessly verify my room accommodations. Thankfully, it wasn’t obvious to either of them I was just using it as an excuse to distract myself from how annoyed I was that I wasn’t worth the time of being spoken to by the man I haven’t seen since he left me high and dry in a nightclub bathroom on New Year’s Eve.
And I know it wasn’t obvious that I used Yasmine’s rambling about the cute barista she flirted with to keep me from admiring how irresistibly handsome he looks in his relaxed fit designer jeans and light gray kicks.
Plus, it wasn’t clear that I prevented myself from swooning over the way his baby blue sweater seems to make his eyes sparkle by urging her to tell me more about the weather we’ll be arriving to.
Too bad we ended the call before I could stop my mind from brushing the wet blonde locks off his forehead…
You know, right before I mentally bitch slapped him.
I widen my eyes at the spreadsheet mocking me.
I’ve been staring at this damn thing since we took off, and I’ve still made no progress.
This just further proves a life without Wyatt in it is better for my company.
My work ethic.
Me.
“Busy?” He sweetly chimes.
I keep my eyes pasted on the screen. “Extremely.”
A short lull passes before he asks, “Can you take a break?”
“Per cosa?”
“Talking.”
“Which we’re already doing now, so a break seems unnecessary.”
There’s a distinct huff out of him proceeded by instructions to the flight attendant, “Sandy, could you please excuse us? We need to have a rather private discussion.”
I cross my legs to prevent the childish urge to argue we don’t.
That there will be no discussion.
Just rivers of tears.
His.
Once Wyatt has confirmed she’s stationed in the front of the plane where the flight attendants quarters are located, his face angles back my direction. “You’re pissed at me.”
My attention doesn’t deter. “Indifferent.”
“I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me dick.” I dart my green glare upward to firmly reiterate my point. “Which makes us even.”
“Meaning?”
“Who you do and do not fuck is none of my concern.”
His 6’1 frame leans slightly forward. “Are you trying to tell me you’re fucking around?”
“And if I am?”
An undeniable growl festers behind his gritted teeth.
I fold my hands on top of my lap to distract him from noticing the way my thighs are pressing tightly together.
That wasn’t the annoying big brother grunt.
That was the delicious, dominant you’re my territory groan.
Never thought I’d be lucky enough to hear the difference.
Never thought I’d want to.
Wyatt’s fingers lock together as his stare holds mine hostage. “Tell me you’re not.”
I take a long deep breath to steady my tone. “I won’t.”
“Won’t or can’t.”
“Non lo farà.”
“Julez-”
“No,” my bite is immediate. “You made it abundantly clear you weren’t interested in me.”
“That’s not…accurate.”
“Looked about as accurate as Spamela Anderson singing her token line to ‘Gold Digger’ by Kayne West.”
Wyatt tries not to smirk at the memory.
Rather than allow him to experience any joy from the thought, I state, “I moved on.”
His Adam’s Apple briefly bobs before he grumbles, “I haven’t had my dick touched by another female since we met.”
The information stuns me, yet I hide it by pressing my red lipstick covered lips firmly together.
“Do you realize how fucking ridiculous that is? I haven’t gone this long or jerked off this much since I was in fucking prep school.” Wyatt slowly shakes his head. “Scuola primaria privata. Night after fucking night I’m falling into an ice cold bed because the only woman I want, the only woman I can’t stop thinking about is you.”
I have to dig my teeth into my bottom lip to stop from cooing over the confession.
“I’m basically lying awake fucking miserable while you’re out blowing half the city.”
Rage widens my eyes. “Just because I was willing to blow you doesn’t mean that’s my M.O. No, I’m not afraid to go after the dick I want, when I want, but that doesn’t mean I’m dropping to my knees for every asshole who buys me a drink.”
“I didn’t even have to do that.”
Without hesitation, I jam the tip of my red, spiked sneaker into this shin.
“Motherfucker,” he grumbles in agony.
“You can take your double standard bullshit and choke on it. You wanna be pissy that I didn’t just pine after you for the last month like some stage three clinger whose virginity you took? That’s on you. I’m not some naïve little girl who has a false sense of a relationship because we made out at a party or two. I wanted more. You rejected me. I moved the fuck on. Sorry, you can’t seem to do the same.”
Wyatt’s face unexpectedly falls. “I didn’t reject you, Julez.”
“Well, you damn sure didn’t fuck me, so I’m gonna have beg to differ.”
He wets his lips slowly as if the idea of me begging is distracting him from the conversation at hand. “You act like this shit is easy for me.”
My eyebrows jump upward.
“You act like betraying my best friend…a guy I consider my brother is an easy decision to make.”
I thoughtlessly roll my eyes. “How very narrow minded of you to only consider how hard this is for you.”
It’s not like he’s had to deal with the actual aftermath of that sort of betrayal. Or suffered the wrath or consequences like the guy who tore me away from my family. He’s not the only one whose entire relationship with someone they care about would be affected.
Again.
Silently, I push aside the thoughts about the last time I was in a slightly adjacent situation to listen to Wyatt protest, “I’m not just considering me. I’m thinking about him, too. How this could destroy years of friendship. How pissed he would be if he knew…if he knew at all how I can’t get you out of my head.”
My scowl deepens. “Oh, but of course, you’re worried about Paxton. You and everyone else who has stepped foot near the Paxton Rossi Vortex. You know, just once in my life it would be nice for someone to be worried about me and then my brother.” I quietly mumble to myself. “To finally escape his shadow.”
Wyatt’s expression grows deeply puzzled.
Realizing the rant that was about to leave my mouth, I momentarily screw my eyes shut to reel it in. My shoulders slightly relax at the same time I let my gaze settle on his. “I guess some part of me thought or maybe more honestly, hoped, you were different, Wyatt.”
His mouth moves, but not a word falls free.
“See, the guy I blew in the closet was the kind of guy I wouldn’t mind enjoying a night with. He was impulsive. A little reckless. Made decisions that satisfied him because his happiness was more important than his dignity.”
He starts to smirk.
“The guy at the bar on New Year’s Eve was the type I could’ve seen myself coming home to no matter where in the world he was. He was spontaneous. Filled with excitement and radiated so much joy it was impossible not to be intoxicated by his spirit.”
A glimmer of hope floods his crystal stare.
“However, the coward in front of me?”
He instantly sulks.
“I’m only riding with him as courtesy to the big, bad wolf he’s terrified of. Because I love my brother and occasionally giving him one less thing to worry about protecting is the least I can do.”
Silence falls between us, and my eyes wander back down to my laptop screen.
Without warning, Wyatt uses the tips of his two fingers to shut it.
My vision snaps upward and narrows. “Excuse. You.”
He scoots to the very edge of his seat. “The only thing I’m terrified of, Sweet Cheeks, is how fucking hard I wanna break you.”
The sexual tension stressing his voice has me anxious to amplify it. “You should be more terrified of how hard I would break you.”
Another growl reaches the tips of his lips.
Uncharacteristically desperate to see where this could go, I harden my tone and state, “Either find your balls and take the fucking risk to be with me, Wyatt, or step aside and let a real man handle it.”
I’m not given the chance to mutter another word. His entire body propels out of his seat to cover mine. The impact knocks the breath I had been holding completely out of my lungs. I instinctively part my lips to gasp and his tongue invades the territory, claiming every centimeter in its radius. My hands rush to grasp the edge of his sweater for leverage when they’re callously captured at the same time he delivers a brutal bite to my bottom lip.
The enticing pain bumps my body backwards in the seat.
Wyatt pins my hands to the sides of my thighs as his tongue trails upward to my earlobe. Trying to steady my heaving chest is a burden but not impossible until he sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin directly below my pulse. On another gasp, my body bows forward, tits being crushed against his massive chest.
“For the next seventy two hours,” his teeth scrape the freshly penetrated skin, “you belong to me, Sweet Cheeks.”
A wicked smirk crosses my lips. “And if you survive it, then you’ll belong to me.”
He growls against my ear seconds before using his tongue to toy with the lobe. “I will have you anytime, anywhere, any way.” The clamping down causes me to squeak. “You think I rejected you before?” Wyatt’s hold on my hands harshens. “I was restraining myself.” Another bite is delivered to my ear. “Now, it’s time to restrain you.”
In one swift motion, he yanks me up onto my feet and tugs me to the empty space between the swivel chairs right on the other side of the tiny desk housing my laptop. Afterwards, he flops himself down in his chair, leans back, and leers at me like some sort of king preparing himself to sentence his subject.
For the right man I have no problem playing this role…
How is it my heart knows that’s Wyatt before my mind does?
“Strip.”
The command is met with the arch of an eyebrow. “Maniere.”
Mirth creeps into his hungry expression. “Please, strip for me, Sweet Cheeks.”
As if the word is truly magical, I begin to unbutton my bright red dress shirt to reveal a lacy bra in the same shade.
Wyatt’s lips purse together in protest. “Sei troppo bello per il tuo bene.”
I don’t know about being too beautiful for my own good, but I do know I’ve never had a man stare at me the way he is right now.
Like I am his long lost treasure finally being discovered.
His priceless gem.
His new favorite jewel.
Once my shirt falls to my feet, I unzip the fitted black skirt and slide it agonizingly slow down my legs, loving the way his eyes are captivated by my every movement. His groan grows into one of starvation, and I smirk at the sight of him stroking his jean covered cock. I drag out the process of removing my bra and thong, needing him to be as desperate for me as I have been for him these past few weeks.
So, I may have lied just a tad when I said I had moved on…that I wasn’t pining after him.
I just handled it a bit better than he had.
I went on dates with men who were boring to look at and even more boring to listen to.
I slumped into bed and sank my fingers between my thighs with thoughts of him dominating my mind.
My body.
My spirit.
Ugh, even at a distance, I still belonged to him, which only infuriated me more.
Unlike mine, Wyatt’s actions are hasty. The removal of his clothes is as much a blur as the straddling position I’m wrenched into. One of his fingertips brushes against my scar at the same time he forcefully thrusts upward.
Any air in my lungs…expelled.
Any previously proclaimed restraint…rusticated.
Any apprehension that the desire coursing through my veins is one sided…vanquished.
Wyatt snakes one hand along my spine until his fingertips reach the ends of my wavy hair. They wind themselves around and around matching the motion of hips. He uses his new hold to jerk me down into each hard heave. Despite the way my pussy is weeping from being mercilessly torn in two, it continuously quivers around his cock, calling for more punishment.
More pain.
More claim.
His teeth lunge for my bobbing bottom lip. The initial ache quickly dissolves into a delightful burn that matches the one building between my legs. Wyatt begins an assault of sucks and nips, occasionally slipping the tip of his thumb between the actions to smear the crimson color across my cheeks. Wetness continues to submerge his deeply rooted dick while hot spit soaks his knuckles. During one of his thumbs invasions, I clamp down on the digit, ripping an animalistic roar from his chest. My small act of defiance seems to push him too close to the edge. His movements unexpectedly cease. His hooded eyes widen. His chest seems to rise more rapidly. However, I can’t manage to find the words to question the change. Wyatt’s eyes remain locked with mine, yet one of his hands begins to dig into the side of his seat. The newfound curiosity I cultivate is short lived.
Cold metal lands brutally against my ass cheek, and I cry out in protest.
A cocky, callous grin covers his face.
He repeats the action again, this time groaning when my pussy swells in satisfaction. Another spank is delivered to the other cheek by the buckle’s counterpart. Wave after wave of delicious moans overwhelm the large cabin, each more maddening than the last. I hopelessly attempt to squeeze my thighs together in an anxious effort for the burn being created by the constant clashing of the hard objects against the delicate flesh to be countered by the gratification of coming undone.
Wyatt’s taunt is low and deliberate. “Ready to behave?”
I frantically nod.
“Say it.”
“Mi comporterò.”
He smirks widely. “Hands behind your back.”
Obeying his command is instant.
With his stare dominating mine, he leans closer and claps the two pieces of the seatbelt together, my hands now prisoners right above my reddened backside. Finally, Wyatt resumes his sharp thrusts except there’s no room for reprieve. Our trapped bodies are forced to endure every ounce of pleasure together. My head lulls backwards, only split seconds from coming, as my clit is ceaselessly abused by each brutal blow.
“Venire,” he demands in my favorite language.
A short, silent squeal seeps free at the same time my entire body begins to shake.
Wyatt groans his approval though he doesn’t lessen the force of his strikes.
Doesn’t deter from the rapid rate he’s executing.
He simply grips the belt and uses the weapon he punished me with to lead us to further ecstasy. The constant carving into my flesh that the belt delivers merely mocks the one his dick is doing to my pussy. Orgasm collapses on top of orgasm as tears threaten to fill the corner of my eyes. Wyatt gives the makeshift harness one last tug, bites his bottom lip, and ruins me in a whole new way. Blazing bursts blast through my pussy branding me to him in a beautifully, barbaric way.
I can’t stop the whimsical smile slipping onto my face.
Guess I’ll have to drink the next time this comes up during a game of “Never Have I”…