Chapter 10

Geneva

I slide my hand down his stomach and over his shorts to cup him. He's long, hard, and straining against the nylon fabric. While his words are tempered—sweet and patient—his body tells a different story, giving me the confidence to tell him what I want. "It has been a long time since I have felt any spark of desire. You're not rushing me into anything. I want this. I want you."

"I'm already yours."

My brow furrows. I don't know what that means, but at this moment I don't care. "Then take me upstairs."

Wiley lifts off of me and pulls me up into his arms without exertion. Honestly, I barely saw him move before I was against his chest, carried in a bride-like pose up the stairs. He takes me to the primary suite, the one I know is his bedroom, and kicks the door shut behind us.

"I should explain what a Fated mate is," he says as he lays me down on the bed.

I curl my fingers into his shirt and pull him down on top of me. I've never felt so bold before, as if I know he will not reject me or refuse my needs. Nor will he call me a whore for wanting it, or a prude for telling him to stop. "Explain it to me later."

With frenzied hands, I yank on his T-shirt and pull it over his head. Every inhale of his cologne—no, not his cologne, his scent according to him—has me desperate to have his mouth on me.

His body is hard and sculpted, chiseled to pure perfection. "My god. Do you spend every waking hour at the gym?"

He chuckles, sprawling out next to me, his fingers playing with the hem of my long-sleeved shirt. "It's genetics. I do work out, but mostly it's genetics."

"I notice your sister is ripped too."

"Yeah."

"I've never been fit once in my life," I say with a self-debasing smile. John told me daily that I was lucky to have him—especially after giving birth to Bo and having trouble losing weight. He'd occasionally starve me, and then feed me a bunch of shit, just so my hormones and metabolism were completely out of balance. It was a constant battle and anytime I felt good about my appearance, he'd tear me down because his opinion was the only one that mattered.

Wiley lifts both of my shirts and exposes my belly. "I think you're perfect. Men are hard on the outside and tubs of goo on the inside. Women are so much tougher than us, but it's nice when they have soft curves to caress."

I roll towards him and slide my hand down his abs to stroke him through his shorts. "You certainly are hard."

Wiley hisses, shifting his hips forward and thrusting his cock into my palm. "Sweet Fates, Geneva. Are you sure about this?"

I pull my shirt and tank top over my head. His eyes glow with a greenish-gold shimmer. "Are you going to make me do all the work?"

He shakes his head and gently pushes me to my back. "I'll do the work, but understand me when I say I'm not rushing anything tonight. I'm going to take my time worshiping you like you deserve, giving you every pleasure you've only imagined."

Oh, wow. "Are you saying I have to be patient?"

"Yes, but I promise I'll make it worth it." His gaze drinks me in as he runs one solitary finger between my breasts and over my navel to hook the top of my yoga pants.

Wiley slides his hand between my legs at the same time he leans down to claim my lips. His kiss is consuming, his fingers nimble as I draw up my knee and part my thighs to give him better access.

He curls his lips into a smile. "Good girl."

"Why am I a good girl?" I instinctively arch my pussy into his hand, the pad of his finger brushing over my clit.

"You're demanding your pleasure and trusting me to give it to you. I like that."

"You did say you wanted to help me." I grin, my eyes fluttering shut as I take in another deep breath of his delicious scent. It seems stronger now than it was downstairs, but how is that possible?

It doesn't matter because I want to eat it up with a spoon or suck it down through a straw.

"Help, protect, pamper—I'm here for whatever you need, whenever you need it." He moves down and latches onto my nipple while plunging two fingers inside of me, his thumb circling my clit in rhythm with the stroking of my g-spot.

I've never orgasmed like this, although one or two boyfriends tried before I met John. But I don't think any of them had the talent that Wiley has, my body responding to him in a way I didn't think was possible.

I push at my pants, wanting my legs free so he has unbidden access to every inch of me.

Wiley moves from one nipple to the other, and then slides down my body, pressing kisses to my belly while helping me shimmy out of my clothes. He pulls his fingers out of me and takes a deep breath, his eyes glowing as a deep rumble comes from his chest. "Fucking hell, Geneva. You're my favorite drug. Your scent makes me wild, but your taste on my tongue will test every bit of my control I have."

His words, his probing touch, the pained look on his face as he details the things he wants to do to me—so this is what being worshiped looks and feels like? Where I am normally self-conscious, with Wiley I feel emboldened and free.

In this moment, I truly believe I am the sexiest woman alive.

Is it the way Wiley looks at me? His sweet, careful words? Or the knowledge that in a few weeks we might be gone and it won't matter what he really thinks of me?

No, I think it's the first. I think this gorgeous, sweet, slightly terrifying man actually believes I'm perfect.

At least he believes I'm perfect for him.

Fated mate—whatever that means.

He tosses my yoga pants off the bed and settles his body between my legs. "Look at me, love. Up on your elbows, I want your eyes on me as I feast between your legs."

I do exactly as he says, unbothered by his commanding tone.

Wiley locks gazes with me as he lowers his mouth and runs his tongue up the center of my pussy.

"Oh!" I gasp when he flicks my engorged clit.

He closes his eyes and sucks his breath in between his teeth. "Shit."

"What's wrong?"

Wiley's voice is gravel while shaking his head. "Give me a second."

Even though it's four, maybe five seconds, looking down at him struggling between my thighs feels like an eternity.

What could be wrong? Does he not like my taste?

Shit! How embarrassing.

I try to sit up and close my legs when his eyes fly open, his pupils blown wide and reflective like mirrors.

"Don't move," he growls.

His mouth looks swollen, like his teeth are pushing out his upper lip.

"You don't have to do this, Wiley." I shake my head.

"Jesus Christ, woman. If you only understood how much I'm looking forward to sucking down every drop you have to give me." The more he talks, the more his mouth seems to go back to normal. "I'm trying to keep myself from getting over-excited."

"Over-excited?"

Wiley places his hand flat on my pubic bone and slides his thumb over my clit, staring up at me while sending tremors of pleasure racing through my body. "I said having your taste on my tongue would test my control."

"Would losing control be so bad?" I gasp when he lowers his head again, running his tongue between my slick folds, this time lavishing my opening with probing licks.

He growls, pulling back long enough to say, "I can't lose control until you give me permission. And you can't give me permission until you know everything there is to know."

I don't understand what he means, but it doesn't matter, because Wiley lets me know the time for talking is over as he buries his face in my pussy, licking and sucking my clit until I'm bucking my hips against his mouth.

Wiley pins me down with a firm press of his hand, lavishing attention until I'm on the verge of exploding. As if he knows I'm close, he slides two fingers inside to stroke my g-spot, a flood of warm liquid rushing out of me at the same time my orgasm reaches the top and crashes over the edge.

"Oh god!" I throw my head back, my elbows collapsing and back hitting the mattress as every muscle in the lower half of my body constricts and then releases, my pussy pulsating around his thick fingers. I close my eyes and pant for breath as endorphins flood my veins, my mind swimming in the feel-good hormones.

An animalistic growl rips from Wiley's throat as he pushes his mouth harder against my labia, the scraping of something hard and sharp scratching my sensitive flesh and bringing me back down.

"Ow!" I yip, giggling when Wiley sits up and twists away from me. "Did you bite me?"

"Bite you, no. But I might have nibbled a bit."

"That was amazing."

Wiley glances over his shoulder at me. "Yeah?"

"Mmmm, hmmmm." I nod and crook my finger. "Kiss me, Wiley."

He crawls up the bed and stretches out beside me again, rolling me to my side by cupping my face in his hands. My scent is on his lips, my thighs slick with the arousal he somehow made gush out of me. I don't know if I've ever been this wet before in my life.

His kisses are consuming, but they aren't demanding.

Doesn't he want more?

I reach between our bodies to find him fully erect, his cock longer and thicker than any man I've ever been with. Stroking him through his shorts, I fumble with his waistband and shove my hand down to wrap my fingers around his hot length.

Oh yeah, he might not be demanding more, but his body is primed to have it.

Boldly, I roll Wiley to his back, taking control of our kiss while taking firm hold of his cock. Once he's on his back, I pull back and flash him a wicked smile. "It's my turn to take control."

His eyes are otherworldly as a raspy moan comes from his lips. "Sweet Fates."

"Is that a yes?" I arch my brow while moving down his gorgeous body.

"I'm yours to do with as you wish."

"Mmmm. Good answer." I pull his cock free from his shorts and trace the thick vein with my thumb. "You are a very large man, Wiley."

"I'm glad you think so."

"I don't think I'll be able to fit all of you in my mouth," I say at the same time I flatten my tongue and lick the head of his dick, swirling around the tip and coating it in my saliva.

He sucks in his breath, his eyes on me. "I'll be happy with whatever you do. The vision of your lips on me is more than I deserve."

"I think you deserve a lot more than that."

"If only that were true."

Again, I don't know what that means, or what is holding him back from taking what he clearly wants from me. Men's bodies don't lie, and Wiley's screams need and desire.

"Relax Wiley. You took care of me, now let me take care of you."