“You gonna come for me again? I need one more, darlin’. Give me one more,” he demands.
“Yes. Yes. Yessssssss,” I yell out, the earth-shattering quake of a third orgasm upending me. “Oh my godddddd….” My words trail off into guttural moans.
Waylon’s pace quickens as he fucks me through it, now chasing his own. I hold on tightly, letting him find the rhythm that’s going to bring his about. I want him to come. I want him to feel as good as he’s made me feel.
He breathes hard, pumping into me until he stiffens. “Lyric, fuckkkkkkkkk.” He comes, calling out my name, and I like it. He empties himself into me, and I like that too.
We collapse together, his cock still inside me as we spoon. He holds me against his chest, arm wrapped over my middle as he nibbles my collarbone.
“Just leave it in,” I say, backing up closer to him. “I like it there.”
“Talked me into it,” he says, settling into position.
We stay like that for five full minutes, saying nothing. It’s only when I feel myself beginning to fall asleep that I jolt awake, disrupting the moment.
“Shit, I think I was falling asleep,” he says. “Sorry.”
“No, I was, too,” I say, shuffling off the bed. “Better get up now.”
Waylon makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like protest, but we both know the rules. His hair is disheveled and pushed to the side, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. His eyelids are heavy and his arm is outstretched in my direction, like he wants to protest my leaving.
“See you tomorrow, cowboy.” I grab my gown and toy and slip out the door before he can convince me to come back to bed. And with the way I’m feeling, I don’t think it would take much.
Back inside my room, I put the garment in my laundry basket and the tentacle in the bathroom sink for washing later.
I don’t even bother putting on pajamas or panties of any kind. I just slip into bed between two cold sheets and sink heavy into my mattress. It feels good—really good—in my skin right now. In this body. Comforted. Satisfied. And now ready for sleep.
Only, it doesn’t immediately come when I close my eyes. Waylon’s familiar scent wafts and pulls memories to theforefront of my mind. It’s nothing specific. His smile. The grip of his hand. The way his lips feel against mine. Small details that make up the sum of an experience. His voice as he calls me by that pet name. Except all these memories are not from a singular moment, but more of a slideshow. Ten or twelve different times he’s smiled. Because, damn, that smile. The dimple on his right cheek that’s hidden by the facial hair. The way his eyes narrow.
I’m telling you. Pure sunshine. And not a problem at all. Probably.
CHAPTER 14
WAYLON
It’s been a very nice,solid month of hooking up with Lyric. And true to our agreement, we haven’t actually done any sleeping together. It’s been close a couple times, but we’ve managed to get back to our respective beds.
Today, we’re both at work, but we’ve been texting a bit this morning about random shit. We tend to do the same in our conversations.
LYRIC
Do you believe in aliens?
ME
Oh, for sure.
LYRIC
Based on what?
ME
Because there’s no way we’re all there is.
LYRIC
What about Bigfoot?
