Author: Roni Loren

“Don’t get that forlorn look in your eyes, love. I’m not going anywhere.” He snagged a condom off the table and sheathed himself, then lowered his body between her thighs. His focus never left her face as he put his hands behind her knees and pushed her legs toward her chest. “I plan on being here a very long time.”

His cock nudged at her soaked entrance, her body not opening as easily with the plug taking up real estate. But he simply pushed her legs wider and worked his way into the impossibly tight space. He groaned as she quivered around him, the feeling of fullness nearly sending her into orgasm instantly. She was so wound up already—bound, gagged, slick with oil and her own arousal that even the hint of him brushing against her G-spot had her nervous system short-circuiting. It was all so much. He was so much.

“I can feel you clenching around me,” Wyatt groaned as he pumped slowly back and forth inside her. “You’re fighting it already, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

She made a miserable whimpering sound into the towel.

He let go of one of her legs and reached beneath himself, grasping the base of the plug and turning it easily, the lubricant still keeping things slippery inside her back passage. “Go ahead and take this first one, love. You’ve earned it. Come for me.”

He kept his steady rhythm, fucking her with long, deep strokes, but as he did it he pulled the plug halfway out, lighting up the nerves at the sensitive rim and plunged it back in, fucking her with the toy in the same cadence as the grind of his cock over her G-spot. The dual sensations twined up her spine, radiating out like satellite signals to every molecule in her system.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice hot against her. “You feel so good. Come all over me. Show me how much you like me fucking that pretty cunt, that tight little ass. Show me how shameless you are. Take it, Kelsey. Take what you want.”

At that, she couldn’t stop the charging stampede of sensation. It knocked her back against the lounge chair and she groaned into the towel, her teeth gripping it hard as her body rode Wyatt’s thrusting cock and his toy. Sweat broke out across her skin and she closed her eyes, drowning.

But before she could even catch her breath, Wyatt was sliding the toy out of her and pulling his cock free. Panic shot through her and she went to reach for him, but her hands were still locked to the chair. He placed a hand on her thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. “Shh, I’m right here.”

There was the sound of something slick and then Wyatt was there against her again. Only not at her still-spasming pussy, but at her back entrance. The fat head of his cock pressed against the tight ring, and she shuddered hard, her body still tweaking from the orgasm.

“Try to relax, love,” he said, an edge of strain in his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She made a frustrated moan. You won’t hurt me. Take me. Please, God, take me. But the words were only in her head, the towel still gripped tight in her mouth. As if he’d heard her unspoken thoughts anyway, he spread her ass cheeks with his hands and nudged forward, pushing against the pucker of muscle until her body gave in and opened to him. The first full thrust was one of the most intense moments of physical sensation she’d ever had.

The combination of pain and sheer bliss rocked through her like an earthquake, sending fissures and cracks through every semblance of sanity she was clinging to. His fingers found her throbbing clit, converting any remaining threads of discomfort into pure ecstasy, and he began to move inside her, his sexy words falling over her like fiery rain. Words like beautiful and amazing and sexy and that nickname that made her bones melt, love.

“Look at me, love,” he said in a near strangled whisper.

She forced her eyes open, her brain fuzzy, but her vision of him stunningly clear. His skin glistened with sweat, the muscles of his chest and shoulders flexing and tightening with each steady slide inside her tight passage—a beautiful male beast on a mission to claim. But what transfixed her was the way he was looking at her. Like no other woman had ever existed in the world before this moment and like no other ever would. The sheer power of that gaze ripped right through her, tearing through any distance she was trying to keep between them. Her eyes clamped shut.

“No, Kelsey,” he said harshly. “I need your eyes. Look at me. See me. See me seeing you.”

The words jumbled in her head, mixing in with the overwhelming feeling of her body tightening, revving. But she got the message. This isn’t a random fuck. You mean something. You mean something to me.

Water filled her bottom lids but she held on to his eye contact, ensnared in it. And only then did he slide his fingers and angle his body in just the right way to take her over the edge. Pleasure shot through her like a thousand pinpricks of light flashing through her and bursting out of her skin. She screamed around the towel, a wretched grit-filled sound that hurt her throat. But she couldn’t stop. The crazed noise just kept going and going, on loop. During the height of it, he took the nipple clamps off her, sending a shocking wave of pain through her that only seemed to make her come harder. Her eyes finally fluttered closed, an involuntary response she couldn’t fight, and tears slid down her cheeks as the oblivion took her under.

Wyatt’s own release was silent, but she felt the unspoken shout in his brutal grip on her thigh, in the shudder of his body. His cock swelled inside her, pulsing and pulsing as if he was determined to give her everything, every damn ounce of his being. Then, finally, he slipped out of her, letting her legs ease back to the cushions, and he bowed forward, laying his cheek to the space between her breasts and panting.

She laid her head back to stare at the sky, her jaw going slack and releasing the towel.

This time she didn’t have the energy to run.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Welcome, Ms. Adams and Mr. Austin.”

Kelsey forced her mouth to form some facsimile of a smile as a pretty dark-skinned woman handed her and Wyatt each a little white rectangle as they stepped into the main resort’s ballroom.

“What’s this?” Wyatt asked as he flipped the card over to peer at the numbers on the back.

“Mr. Carmichael is giving away fifty thousand dollars tonight. If you win, you get to pick which charity it goes to.”

“How generous of him,” Wyatt said, and though his tone was as smooth as glass, Kelsey could feel his grip tighten on her waist, as if saying anything complimentary about Andrew Carmichael costs him a little piece of his soul. “Are the tables assigned tonight?”

The woman smiled. “No, sir, sit wherever you’d like. Dinner will be served after the performance.”

“Thank you. Come on, love.”

Kelsey took a deep breath, letting him lead her forward. Some of the group had already arrived and tables were beginning to fill up. She kept her gaze forward but could almost feel eyes pressing on her. She didn’t know for sure if anyone besides Gwen and Andrew had discovered her most damaging secrets. But based on how those women had treated her at the spa, she wasn’t feeling very confident that the information hadn’t traveled.

“I feel like everyone is watching us,” she said under her breath.

“That’s because you look so beautiful, love.” Wyatt rubbed circles against the small of her back with his thumb. The dark green dress he’d chosen for her tonight was backless. She’d protested the gorgeous gown, worried that it was too sexy when they were trying to blend in. But he’d insisted, and already she was happy he had. His skin against hers was instant comfort, a soothing salve for the nerves strumming through her.

Wyatt found an empty table and pulled her chair out for her. She sat and heaved a sigh of relief that he hadn’t attempted to sit with anyone. She needed a minute to put her game face back on. “I feel like I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown or something.”

“Shh,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her knee beneath the table. “It’s going to be okay. Just breathe, love.”

But as the minutes ticked by, she watched couple after couple enter the ballroom and choose their dinner companions. The tables filled up around them, and a sinking feeling settled over her, like a sack of sand in the pit of her stomach. They were at the only table holding one couple now. She didn’t believe in coincidences. And she didn’t miss the surreptitious glances, the whispered words at nearby tables. People knew.

“Wyatt,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“I know, love.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t get up and haul her out of there. He simply laid his arm over the back of her chair, exuding that pure I-dare-anyone-to-fuck-with-me confidence that seemed to come so easy to him. “And I’m giving you one order for tonight. You are not allowed to act embarrassed, ashamed, or apologetic.”

“But, Wyatt,” she protested, her stomach doing flips at the thought of all these people knowing, judging.

He turned to look at her. “The only opinions in this room that should matter to you are mine and your own. And I am nothing but proud of you. If you show shame, it shames me.”

She closed her eyes, unable to meet the ferocity of his gaze and conviction behind his words. “I can take a lot. But don’t lie to me. You have to be embarrassed by me. You wouldn’t have come up with a fake backstory and last name for me if it didn’t matter to you.”

A hand touched her cheek. “Love, I came up with the ruse to protect you. Not me. Your past is your business, and I didn’t want anyone prodding you.”

She opened her eyes at that and couldn’t help the sharp laugh. “Sure. You would’ve taken a former drug addict stripper to a business retreat as your real date. Right.”

But his gaze didn’t waver, his lip only lifted at the corner. “In case you haven’t noticed, part of the reason I’m not so good with the social stuff is that I don’t give a flying fuck what people like this think of me. If my father could’ve beat that trait out of me, he would’ve, but it’s not going anywhere. My family, my friends, the girl I . . . care about, that’s whose opinions matter. Not some hoity-toity assholes who like to jerk off to gossip.” He glanced over his shoulder at the other tables. “I would happily stand up right now and tell everyone in here that I’m dating you—a girl who has kicked and scraped her way through a life that would’ve crushed most of the people in here. And that she’s the most beautiful, kind-hearted, and tough-ass woman I’ve ever met. I’m humbled to be with her.”

Kelsey stared at Wyatt, her throat burning as he made his way through his fervent declaration. No one had ever said anything to her like that before, and she didn’t even know how to process it. “Wyatt . . . ,” she whispered.

“Shh,” he said taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss her palm. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to hear what I think when I see you. And I want you to be proud of that girl because that’s who you are now. You’re not a fuckup, you’re a survivor.”

“Are these seats taken?”

Kelsey turned toward the familiar voice, the interruption thankfully cutting off the tears that had been threatening to flow. Kade Vandergriff, looking dapper in his three-piece suit, smiled down at her. A pretty dark-haired Asian woman stood at his side. Kelsey shook her head and Wyatt let go of her hand. “No, please, sit.”

“Great.” He pulled out the chair for his companion. “This is Maile, my assistant.”

They all exchanged introductions, and Kade sat in between Kelsey and Maile.

“I didn’t realize you’d brought anyone along,” Wyatt said, smiling so deeply his dimples peeked out.

“I was told showing up to this thing solo was frowned upon, so Maile graciously volunteered to come with me even though she barely tolerates me most days.”