“You like this…” His soft voice is barely audible over the booming explosions of light. “Having me play with you with everyone around us.”
I’m desperate to rock my hips, craving deeper contact, but he denies me. He keeps his touch light, his fingertips dancing over my clit.
A mocking whisper ghosts over my earlobe. “You’re such a good girl, Blake. Sitting there so nicely, not making a sound.”
I gasp when his free arm suddenly pulls me closer to his body so I can feel the erection pressing against my ass.
“You feel that? Rock-hard, baby, just from feeling that wet pussy under my hand.”
A moan slips out, and I cover it with a cough. Annaliese turns to give me a funny look, and Wyatt’s hand freezes.
I hastily pick up my water bottle. “Sorry,” I tell her. “My throat is so dry.”
“Gotta keep that shit lubricated,” she says, and Wyatt chuckles against my hair.
I force down a sip of water while Annaliese refocuses on the fireworks and Wyatt continues to torture me with his fingers.
“When we get back to the house,” he mutters in my ear, “I’m gonna need you to take care of my dick. Can you do that for me?”
In response, I grind my ass on him, and his fingers tighten over my thigh in warning. Oh, so I’m allowed to be tortured in front of hundreds of strangers, but he isn’t?
I peek up with an innocent smile. “What’s wrong?”
“Behave,” he cautions, “or I’ll stop.”
Calling his bluff, I move my butt again, rubbing it over his prominent erection.
The decision backfires horribly on me as Wyatt proves he doesn’t make idle threats. I almost weep when his hand abruptly disappears from my underwear.
“Noooo!” The wailing complaint flies out before I can stop it, this time drawing not only Annaliese’s attention but everyone’s.
Eddie leans over on his lawn chair and grins at me. “You okay there, Logan?”
I’m so mortified, my cheeks nearly burst into flames. “Um, no, I’m not. I’m justsodisappointed by this fireworks display.”
Every single person in our vicinity gapes at me like I’m a crazy person.
“The fuck you talking about?” Eddie says. “It’s magnificent.”
Meanwhile, Wyatt sits there all smug and obnoxious, both his hands on top of the blanket when at least one of them should be making me see stars instead of fireworks.
Gritting my teeth, I twist my head to glare at him.
He merely shrugs. “I warned you what would happen if you didn’t behave.”
“I’ll be good,” I blurt out, wincing at the pleading note in my voice.
That gets me an arrogant smile. “No. You had your chance. Now be a good girl and watch the fireworks.”
Chapter 26
WYATT
IT’S RAINING TODAY, SO BLAKE and I spend a lazy afternoon in the great room. My fingers wander over the piano keys, laying out the chords. Nothing fancy. C major to E minor, a quick pivot to G major, dancing down to D. It’s a soft, sweet love song from Blake’s dock playlist. She put it on yesterday, and it’s been stuck in my head ever since, so last night I carried Mom’s electric piano upstairs from the basement and set it up by the windows, because I enjoy looking at the lake while I play, and the acoustics in this room are surprisingly decent.
The chords spill into each other like watercolor on canvas. I like this song. And it isn’t Mollie May, thankfully. It’s Crystal Soto, a young singer who sort of came out of nowhere last year and skyrocketed to fame.
On the couch, Blake is slouched on her back, reading on her phone. She’s got one knee up and her other leg crossed over it, drawing my gaze between her legs like a magnet. I glimpse the shadow of her pink panties beneath her thin white shorts, and my mouth waters,distracting me from the song.
