But I have access to none of those things here, so I’m relying on my natural feminine wiles, praying it’s enough. I’d hoped to get through this without having to touch him, but needs must.
I push my bigger bust into his chest, hating how my skin crawls when his eyes darken with lust. Cupping his face, I tilt his head around, pressing my lips to his.
He’s not too bad of a kisser, and at least he’s not anoldieoldie, but kissing him still feels wrong. I pull back when I sense his desire for me rising. “Do you have the whiskey or not? I told you I always need a shot before sex.” I trail my tongue across his lower lip, and he slides a bottle of Wyoming Whiskey out from under his top without further argument.
I silently fist pump the air.
I’m in Wyoming!
I wonder if Wyatt did that on purpose or he’s just an idiot.
My guess is it’s the latter.
My euphoria fades fast though.
That’s fucking hours from home, and there’s no way I can hitch a ride all the way, like I originally planned, which means I must invoke Plan B. Get into a town, pick up a burner cell, call Xavier to come get me, and hope I can find a decent hiding spot until he arrives.
“I only have plastic cups.” I shrug apologetically while taking the bottle from his hands.
Bending down to open the door at the bottom of my bedside table, I purposely stick my butt in the air, swaying my hips and trusting Wyatt is too fixated on my ass to notice me slipping the secret pill concoction into his drink.
Earlier, I ground the pills down using a cup I stole from the cafeteria, dividing the mixture into two lots. I tip half my supply into his drink, swirling it with my finger. I’ve purposely held half back in case this goes tits up and I need a new plan.
Plus, I don’t want to kill the poor sucker.
“Bottoms up!” I hand his drink to him, praying the medication isn’t noticeable and that he tastes nothing different. I tilt my head back, tipping the amber-colored alcohol into my mouth, relishing the burn as it glides down my throat. I drain it in one go, indicating for him to do the same, and he doesn’t let me down.
Excitement churns in my gut, but I caution myself not to get too carried away. This is only step one.
And this is the tricky part. I don’t know how long it’ll take to work its way into his bloodstream, and I need to deflect his advances until then.
Kissing I can just about handle.
But making out or any kind of sex is a line I won’t cross.
I run my hands up his chest through his cotton uniform top, biting down on my lip because I know he likes that. “You feel so good,” I whisper, burying my face into his neck and nibbling on his earlobe. “But I want to feel all of you.”
I convince him to remove his clothes until he’s standing in front of me in his plain white boxer briefs. He’s not in bad shape for an older dude, but there’s stillno wayI’d go there. “Lie on your back on the bed,” I instruct, and my mind drifts to dangerous, forbidden territory.
One thing I loved most about Cam-slash-Kai was his alpha tendencies in the bedroom. It’s the one place I didn’t argue, happy to let him take the lead. Commanding Wyatt brings a whole host of memories surging to the forefront of my mind, and a familiar ache stabs me in the chest.
Every memory I have is now tarnished by his betrayal.
And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.
It hurts like a fucking bitch.
“Abby?” Wyatt’s concerned voice drags me back into the moment. I push down on his chest, crawling over him and settling on his lap. His hard-on jabs into my ass, and my insides roil in disgust.
I spend a few minutes “worshiping” him. I run my hands all over his naked upper body, looking up at him as I dust kisses across his chest, along his arms, and down toward his stomach. His erection salutes me through his boxer briefs, and nausea swims up my throat as he flexes his hips, silently begging me to suck him off.
I don’t know if he’s always this timid with women or he’s playing nice because of my age, but I’m grateful he’s not forcing things. Excitement builds when his eyelids grow heavy a short while later, and it becomes clear he’s fighting to stay awake.
“Abby,” he slurs, trying to push himself up by his elbows.
I press both hands down on his chest, holding him firmly in place. “Don’t fight it, Wyatt. Let it take you under.”
“What did you…do?” Those are his last words before he conks out.
