I dip my head, dragging my teeth along her neck, pausing to suck and bite until those hands in my hair are tugging harder. She moans over and over, each one spurring me on, driving me deeper into the haze of this need that demands to be fulfilled. Now that I’ve started to learn Avery’s body, I can’t stop. I can’t take back the scratch marks imprinted in my back or unhear the way she cries my name when she clenches around me. There’s no going back.
I lift my face from her neck, swallowing to get a handle on myself. Focus Wyatt. Lesson first, reward after. Withdrawing my mouth, hands, and body from Avery, she blinks up through her haze, the image of wanton desire. I wish I could freeze-frame her like this, chest heaving and reaching for me. Gripping her thighs, I spin her around, steadying her with a flat back on the center of her back.
Avery gasps when I tug down her panties and leggings, leaving them coiled around her knees. She’s in prime position, bent over and bared to me. I inhale her sweet scent, my mouth going dry. My hands roam over her hips and ass, gripping and kneading, occasionally skating my fingertips over her cunt.
“I can’t believe I resisted this for so long,” I mutter to myself, letting my hunger bleed into every stroke, every squeeze. She’s stunning when she’s being submissive.
“Yeah, you truly deserve a medal,” Avery grunts, and I swear I can hear her eyes roll. My cock twitches. Scratch that, she’s irresistable when she’s being a fucking brat.
The sharp sting of my palm meeting her ass is immediate, and the yelp she lets out is music to my ears. I deliver another spank, this one harder and faster. Her shocked cry is infused with a moan, doing unknown things to me. Being with her, pleasuring her, short-circuits mybrain. She wipes anyone who came before from existence, erases the rest of the world, and leaves me reeling. It’s just us and the feel of my palm soothing her reddened skin. When my fingers dip back towards her center, my brows shoot up, and I bite down on my free fist to hold back a groan.
“Soaking wet for me already?” I taunt, my voice thick with satisfaction as I tease my fingers through her slick heat, circling her clit with slow, deliberate movements. Her hips rise instinctively to meet my touch, a silent plea for more, and the way her body responds so openly makes a tremor run through me.
“I’m always wet for you, Wyatt,” Avery breathes, igniting something primal inside me. I wanted to resist, to make this last, but her soft moans filling the gym give my fingers a life of their own.
Pushing inside of her, I become enthralled by her tightness all over again. My free hand braces on her thigh, holding her wide open for me as I thrust deeper, curling my fingers to hit that perfect spot. Her back arches, her hands clutching at the bench, nails biting into the leather. She’s pure fire in my hands, and I can feel her unraveling with every movement.
Her soft, broken moans reverberate throughout the empty gym, filling the space and wrapping around me. I cannot resist her, especially when she's like this.
“Fuck it.” I pull my fingers back, earning a whimper of protest, until I sink down and thrust my tongue into her. A muffled groan escapes me at her irresistible taste. The sound is raw, feral, and she answers with a moan that leaves me undone. I grip her cheeks wide, spreading her for me. Swirling my tongue, I drag the wetness out of her, the taste both intoxicating and addictive.
Avery cries out. Holding her steady, my tongue flicks and circles, teasing her clit before diving back into her heat. Her thighs tremble around my head.
“Wyatt, please. I—” she mumbles. “I want you to fuck me.” I laugh against her cunt; the vibration causes her to shudder again. I glance across the room, catching sight of her in the mirror. Her flushed face, her eyes rolled back, her lips parted in ecstasy. The sight is enough to make me ache, and I press my tongue harder against her, determined to drive her higher.
She starts to tighten around my tongue and the fingers that have rejoined the party, slowly fucking her into the abyss. Her hips are bucking, and suddenly, she’s coming undone around me. Even then, I don’t stop. I devour her, piece by piece. Tear her apart with pleasure until her cries echo through the gym, and I feel her release flood over me, her body quaking.
I rise, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my chest heaving as I watch her. She looks utterly wrecked, her hair wild, her lips swollen, her eyes glazed over with satisfaction.
“Look at you,” I murmur, rounding her side to lean in and brush my lips against hers, letting her taste herself on me. “Completely ruined for anyone else.” Through her glassy stare and her pinkened lips, Avery slowly comes back to herself. A slow, small smile carves across her face.
“Garrett does it better.” A shock of laughter bursts out of me. Damn her, but her insolence just serves to make my dick that much harder.
Gripping her jaw, I drag her from the bench whilst tugging at my shorts. Freeing myself, Avery’s eyes widen greedily, but I jerk her up to face me at the last second.
“No teeth,” I growl just before I feed her my cock.
Chapter Thirty One
The water glistens like molten glass, only broken by the steady rhythm of Huxley’s arms slicing through the surface. Stroke after stroke, he moves with precision, his body cutting through the pool as though he’s trying to outrun something invisible. Something I implanted into his head. He’s been at this for a while. Long enough that his muscles must be screaming, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even pause. The water surges around him, each lap more determined than the last.
I watch from the shadowed edge, my arms wrapped tightly around myself, my nails digging into my sleeves. I did this to him. Filled him with shame because I couldn’t face my own fear. I ran from it, hid from it beneath layers of misdirected anger. The images of last night are still burned into my mind. The auction, the Lots, the way Sharon laughed and paraded them like trophies. And Huxley becoming entangled in it.
I squeeze my arms tighter around myself. I came to the underground pool room in search for him, needing to offer the apology that Wyatt rightly instructed me to give. But the longer Hux swims, the more I feel like I’m intruding. Maybe it would be better to wait until later, once he’s worked through his thoughts, but I can’t leave. Not after the way I yelled at him, the way I let my anger take over when all he was trying to do was help.
Hux reaches the end of the pool, flips effortlessly, and pushes off the wall for another lap. His body is a blur of motion, his muscles taut underthe sheen of water. Every movement is deliberate and controlled, yet I see the cracks. The desperation in the way he powers forward, the way his strokes become just a fraction less fluid as exhaustion creeps in.
He’s running himself into the ground.
Kicking off my sneakers, I pull down my leggings and tug the sweater over my head. Wyatt’s cum is still seeping out of me, soaking through my knickers. I leave them and my sports bra in place and slowly step into the pool as if Hux might suddenly sense my presence. He remains oblivious as I descend the side steps, lowering myself to sit in the warm water and draw my knees up to my chest. Huxley doesn’t notice. He’s too consumed by whatever storm is raging inside him, too focused on the next stroke, the next lap. The water laps gently against my shoulders, my chin resting on my knees.
Huxley was right to find solace down here. There’s a peacefulness within the whitewashed walls, a simplicity that helps to forget about the mansion upstairs. Fluorescent bulbs make up for the lack of windows, chlorine, and cleaning products tainting the air. Alongside one wall, there’s a wooden bench, a few towel hooks, and that’s it. One door permits entry via a staircase just beyond, another remains tightly closed and presumably locked.
Water ripples around my body in a small wave, the clash on movement recentering my focus. At the far end of the pool, Hux dips beneath the water to spin and push himself off the wall to lap back towards me. His movements are slower now and less refined. He’s slapping the water rather than gliding through it, an obvious tension in his shoulders. He begins to falter ever so slightly, his body giving out, but his mind refuses to stop.
“Hux?” I finally say, my voice barely louder than a whisper, swallowed up by the soft echo of water against tile. I try again, louder this time. “Huxley?” He hesitates mid-stroke, his head turning toward the sound of my voice. Our eyes connect, and everything I wanted to say goes straight out of my head.
For a moment, he just treads water, his chest heaving as he takes me in. Droplets cling to his hair and his eyelashes before they slide down his face like tiny rivers. He doesn’t say anything, working hard to regulate his breathing to an even pace. I hug my knees tighter, searching for the resolve I came in here with. After what feels like forever, Hux swimsover me, his strokes lazier now, until he’s close enough to sit on the ledge beside me.
