Waylon gently pushes his thumb into my ass, causing delicious pressure to build in my stomach.
“Rub your clit, baby,” he hisses through gritted teeth.
I redirect a hand beneath me and run two fingers over the bundle of nerves. I stroke myself as he drags in and out of me. His cock and thumb fall into a rhythm together, and my body feels like it’s trying to rip itself in half.
Everything begins to tremble, from my hands all the way to my toes. Every muscle coils and tightens, waiting to explode.
Waylon’s pace begins to build. He pumps into me faster, deeper, as I cry out. And just like that, I’m tumbling over the edge, falling. My body seizes as I squeeze my eyes shut and combust. My hearing goes muffled, there are stars in my vision, and I can’t feel my face.
“Fuck, yes,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking hot.” His body stiffens as he comes in my pussy, each muscle growing rigid as he fills me.
He collapses, his body heavy on top of mine, but I don’t care. A cloud of euphoria settles over me as I ride the wave. I hold on to him, keeping him pressed tightly to me as we melt into a puddle of erotic afterglow.
After a few minutes, Waylon rolls off next to me, pulling me to his side.
“Give me like ten minutes,” he says, still huffing to catch his breath. “I’ll be good to go again.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” I laugh, snuggling my face to his chest as he wraps his arm around me.
“Just trying to make good on my promise.”
I lift to look at him, furrowing my brow.
“I said I’d make you feel good.” He kisses the top ofmy head.
“I do, cowboy.” I giggle. “Believe me. But… I’m going to need a snack and some electrolytes if you plan to drain me like that again.”
He laughs as he turns to throw his leg over mine and asks me what kind of snack I want. Ten minutes later, I feel myself beginning to doze off in his cozy embrace.
We only had one rule and we broke it. But then we made another rule. But then we broke that one. Twice now.
What I have learned is that we are very bad at this.
CHAPTER 22
WAYLON
I don’t knowthat I’ve ever woken up feeling as well rested as I do this morning. Which is strange, because we fucked two more times in the middle of the night. You’d think I would be tapped. You’d think I’d need a hearty breakfast and some recovery liquids. But I don’t.
In fact, I feel as good as I did when I was twenty-two and would stay out until the bar closed and then clock into work on time three hours later. Don’t judge me. You know we’re all guilty of a night like that in our youth.
The point is, I woke up about fifteen minutes ago with my arm trapped underneath Lyric’s head. There was no way I was going to risk moving it and waking her up, so I’ve just been lying here watching her sleep as my arm slowly loses feeling. But that’s fine by me. I’ve never understood this whole thing about watching people while they’re unconscious, because it seemed a little creepy to me, but when in Rome, you know?
I smelled her before I saw her, though. Before my eyes ever opened, I could tell my face was buried in her hair. I would recognize that sweet floral scent through a Tennessee thunderstorm.
She rolled toward me when I tried to lean back, so now we’re face-to-face. Her eyelids keep fluttering like maybe she’s dreaming, but I can barely feel her breathing. It’s so slow and light, I actually held my breath to make sure she was.
There’s a tiny bit of last night’s makeup still smudged over her eyelids. It’s smoky and shimmery, and even though it’s a little messed up, it’s still really pretty on her. I’ve never really cared about makeup either way. I know some guys have strong opinions, which I always thought was strange. I keep it simple. If she likes it, I like it. Because there’s nothing sexier than a woman who feels good about herself, who feels confident.
It’s one of the things I like about Lyric so much. She’s got a strength about her, a sassiness that sets her apart. She’s not afraid to tell anyone exactly what she’s thinking. Except… I guess that’s not always true. Every now and again, when she’s looking at me, I get this feeling like she wants to say something. I’ve all but chalked it up to my imagination, since she has no problem giving me the business. I can’t believe there’s anything she wouldn’t say to me.
Lyric’s eyes flutter open as she inhales deeply. A wide, sleepy grin spreads over her lips.
“Good mornin’.” I run my fingertip featherlight across her cheek and brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Good morning,” she says, her mouth stretching into a yawn before she could finish the words.
“You sleep okay?” I turn and lie flat on my back, stretching out my legs.
