4. Fern

Chapter 4

Fern

Man, this feels good. Wyatt wraps his arms around me, hands splayed across my back and butt as he kisses me. His lips are just as soft as they looked, and I love the feel of them pressed against mine. I can feel the warmth of his body, the delicious strength of him, and a moan escapes my throat as we kiss.

Kissing, just seeking pleasure for the sake of it, is so foreign to me. I'm so used to working hard toward specific goals. It's delicious, just standing here with my arms around him, exploring his mouth.

He seems to enjoy the sounds I'm making and releases his own deep moan. I pull back with a gasp, not expecting the vibrations that buzz through his chest at his sounds. Wyatt smiles at me wolfishly and then leans back in, biting my lower lip as he backs me up to the edge of his bed.

I sink onto the mattress, and he stands between my legs, running his hands through my hair, gazing down at me like I'm made of some precious material he doesn't want to hurt. "Just checking in with you, Fern. Are you comfortable with this?"

I nod. He nods back, finger tracing my cheek. "Good, beautiful, because I'm ready to give you a happy new year."

I start to laugh because it's an adorably dorky thing to say, but then he sinks to his knees and presses a hand to my sternum. I'm flat on my back on the bed as he lifts the hem of my shirt. "God, your body is incredible," he murmurs, planting kisses along the stomach I usually try to hide behind flowy or ruched tops. I don't even have time to feel self-conscious about it because Wyatt licks and nips his way along my ribcage.

I move to take off my tank and while he watches, literally licking his lips. "Fern, I've been hard for you since the moment you pressed your chest in my face at the bar." Wyatt seems surprised by the confession but also seems to recover quickly at the sight of my too-big boobs spilling out of last year's bra. "Holy shit, look at you."

I glance down to see what he sees, but my view is blocked by his head as Wyatt yanks off the bra and presses his mouth to my nipple. The wet heat of his tongue has me gasping, prickles of pleasure zooming through my body as he kneads and squeezes and licks, moaning and whispering praise the entire time. Why have I not made time for this sooner?

I place one hand on his shoulder, loving the subtle movements beneath his shirt. The more Wyatt suckles at me, pinching and teasing the more I squirm beneath the weight of his torso. I realize he's working his way to the floor between my legs, and I crave pressure and friction against my center, but I can't quite get it in this position. I grunt in frustration and Wyatt looks up from his work.

He draws one finger down the center of my body, teasing at my crotch. The denim of my jeans is too thick, and I need more. "God," I curse, but I don't know what to say next. Do I just … demand that he touch me?

"You need it bad, don't you Fern?"

"Yes. Thank you. Please." I don't even know what I'm saying, but he laughs, and I feel his long fingers unbuttoning my pants. Before I can form any sort of response, my legs are in the air, my jeans and panties are ripped off, and my thighs are smooshed against Wyatt's ears while his hands press the soft, sensitive skin of my upper legs closer to his head, like he's trying to drown himself in my body.

And then he spreads me open and studies me, like I'm a page in one of his books–intently, like there's nothing else in the room.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting … oh, wow." I raise myself up on my forearms just in time to see Wyatt Moyer stare at my vulva like it's the most incredible thing he ever laid eyes on. And then, with a sigh, he leans forward and licks me there. "Wyatt!" He freezes and looks up, eyes questioning. "I'm all … sweaty. I was just working for hours."

"And?"

I bite my lip. "And, doesn't it smell?"

He sniffs, and my cheeks heat. But he's not turning away in disgust. He looks like he is about to have a stroke from pleasure, somehow. "It smells like a pussy, Fern."

"Okay, but … you like that?"

He dips a finger inside me gently, and I suck in a breath. I bear down on him involuntarily, arching my back to see if I can get any friction where I need it on my clit. "I like it a lot, yeah. It smells like you're turned on, and I really like that."

Well, I can't argue with him. If I hadn't been turned on before, the sight of him staring at my body with hooded eyes, blown pupils, and reverence would have me dripping all over his sheets. Who am I to deny him something he apparently likes, right? Right? Maybe if I had more experience, I wouldn't feel so vulnerable. Before I can protest again, Wyatt licks me again, slowly, his tongue flat and wide, and deliciously warm. "Oh, wow. Okay. Yes. Ohhhhhh wow."

Wyatt licks and thrusts his finger in and out. His hands are somehow everywhere on my body, all at once. I feel his fingers on my thighs, my nipples, my folds. I feel his tongue lapping and pressing until I'm a coiled spring of need. I realize my legs are pressed hard against his head, smothering him perhaps, but I am powerless to do anything but fist the sheets. I moan as he licks and glides and sucks until I'm tipping over the edge. Electric shudders roll through my body, lifting me up and out of my consciousness. I think I'm shouting his name. I think I'm squeezing my legs together in time with my waves of pleasure.

I drop a hand lazily to my stomach, and my eyes drift close. I stop moaning, switching over to a gentle hum as I enjoy the small aftershocks rumbling through my body. When I open my eyes, Wyatt is standing in front of me shirtless, dropping his jeans, palming the bulge in his boxer briefs with one hand as he wipes his mouth with the back of his other. I blurt, "Jesus. You look filthy. Like sexy-filthy. Sorry." I move to sit up, but Wyatt shakes his head, crawling over me like some sort of jungle cat predator.

"I am filthy, Fern." I scoot up the bed ‘til I'm near the pillow, and he bows down, giving me his weight and kissing me, and wow. I definitely taste myself on his lips. My eyes widen in shock. He frowns. "What?" When I can't say anything, he smiles. "Hasn't anyone ever done that for you before? Made you come with their mouth?"

I shake my head, and his smile widens. "They've been missing out. You taste incredible."

Before I can ask him if he really means that, he juts his hips against mine, and I feel the thick rod of his erection. Is he hard like that for me? From getting me off? My blood fizzes at the thought that he enjoyed smashing his face in my sweaty snatch, especially as he starts groaning again, pressing his big hands into my boobs. "These feel so incredible. So soft. Your body is like a dream, Fern."

Wyatt rocks his hips against mine while he praises me, and I wrap my ankles around his knees, knowing I'm so wet that I'm getting his underwear damp. "Take these off," I tell him, like I know what I'm doing, and I start sliding the cotton over the swell of his ass and holy shit.

He wriggles out of his boxer briefs, and I look over his shoulder to see the most amazing backside. It has dips in the sides where the taut muscles of his legs meet those solid glutes. I press my palms into the dips, my fingers digging into his cheeks, and wow, I can feel the whole rigid length of him rubbing against my heat.

I tuck my chin and adjust myself on the bed because I want to see it between us, want to know what an erect cock looks like in person, and it's better than I imagined. Wyatt's shaft is long and darker than the skin of his butt. The uncut tip glistens with a bead of moisture, and I can't tell whether it came from me or him. I reach for it, amazed at how warm and smooth it feels in my hand, yet also impossibly hard. I rub the liquid on the tip with my thumb, spreading the fluid around the shiny head as he nibbles my ear and squeezes my boobs. Everything feels so good, so much, so amazing.

Wyatt rolls to one side, and I see him fumbling around the drawer of his nightstand . He pinches a foil packet between his fingers and moves to tear it open. I sit up. "Can I do it?" I am overcome with a burning desire to be the one to roll the condom onto him, to feel it snugly in place before he slides inside me. I'm not worried about pain, somehow. I've used toys in the past … a lot, of late. And I know my body is soft after he made me come that hard.

I'm throbbing with anticipation, with the need to have this part of him inside of me.

Wyatt stares in silent wonder as I take my time lining up the condom, rolling it down him slowly. When I glance up to meet his eye, we smile at one another like we just achieved something together. I have a moment of concern that I don't know what he likes, but then he asks, "You ready, Fern?" Wyatt runs a finger along my jaw again. I realize he already has things he does that turn me on. And he seems to like my enjoyment.

"Yes, please." I lie back down, settling onto the pillow and tipping my thighs open as he crawls back between them. Wyatt keeps his gaze locked on mine and uses his hand to line himself up, and then … it's happening. I feel him sliding inside, a burst of fullness followed by a pinch and then exquisite satisfaction.