We hold hands, listening to the radio as we make the thirty-minute drive into town. The music is soft rock with the volume low; the sun warms the arm I stick out of my window, and this day feels so hazy and perfect it’s like I’m in a music video.
Wyatt pulls up in front of a pretty-looking pastel-painted boutique with cushions and women’s clothes in the windows. He cuts the engine, unsnaps his seatbelt, and is out and around his truck to open my door before I can reach for it. We’re in the store seconds later, a smiling redheaded woman asking if we need help.
Wyatt was not joking when he said he intended to spoil me.
We hit the home goods section of the storehard, leaving the boutique an hour later and needing Alicia’s help carrying out large bags of blankets, cushions, and silky fabrics that felt so good on my skin. I absolutely needed them in my nest.
Surprised when we drive past the diner, I glance at Wyatt. “We’re not stopping?”
He shoots me a rapid glance and slows down his truck. “Hungry for lunch?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. I thought you might be.”
It’s nearly midday, and he has a big appetite. All my alphas do. No matter how much pot roast, spaghetti, or whatever else we make for dinner, there are never any leftovers.
“I’m hungry, but not for food,” Wyatt says enigmatically, driving faster now that he knows I don’t want to eat.
I scrunch my nose. “Then what for?”
“You.” He lifts our joined hands to his mouth and brushes a kiss across my knuckles. “After seeing you touch all those cushions and silk material, food, drink, and even breathing went out the window. I have plans to take you home and to my bed, Maisie Lucas.”
My belly tightens at the husky edge creeping into his voice. “So I can touch you?”
He lets out a frustrated groan. “No talk like that while I need to focus.”
I grin. “Okay. I’ll just think about touching you instead.”
He groans so loudly that I can’t help but laugh.
Parking in front of the farmhouse, he cuts the engine and unsnaps his seatbelt as he turns toward me, eyes burning. “I need you something fierce, darlin’.”
During the thirty-minute drive back to the farmhouse, tension was building between us, and I felt his need licking at my skin, pebbling my nipples and making my panties damp. My need has been growing with each brush of his thumb against my inner thigh.
I unsnap my seatbelt as he cups the nape of my neck, urging me to his side and claiming my mouth in a hungry kiss. I’m as hot and ready as he is when I climb over to his seat, straddling him.
He tugs down the front of my dress, cursing at the sight of my bra, so lacy you can see my nipples through the fine material. I grind myself against him, feeling how hard he is through his pants. Tangling my hands in his hair, I tilt my head back as he pulls my bra down and sucks my right nipple into his mouth. He repeats the same rough and sweet attention on my left as I rub my pussy against the bulge in his pants.
He releases my left nipple with a wet pop, cool air from the open window adding a delicious counterpoint to his wet mouth.
“On your knees. Need to be inside you, sweetheart,” he grunts.
I rise to my knees, and he fights to tug down his zipper.
“You ready for me?” he asks, voice rough with need. His left hand pushes my skirt over my belly, fisting the material to keep it up.
My mind is foggy with lust. “Uh huh. Need you inside me, Wyatt.Please.”
His hand shakes as he shoves my panties aside, groaning when he tests my wetness with one finger and finds out how wet I am.
With his left hand keeping my skirt up over my hips, he holds his cock up for me, sits back in his seat and groans. “Sit down on me, darlin’. Take me deep.”
I grab his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt.
I sink onto his cock, moaning as I take each hard inch into me.
His eyes slam shut, and he lifts his hand from the base of his cock once he’s pushed the blunt head inside me. His right hand clasps my hip, and his eyes bounce from my exposed breasts to my pussy.
“Oh…” I whimper, rolling my hips and taking a little more of his dick.
