I send it and hear her footsteps coming up the stairs. It delivers, and I swiftly delete the message and set her phone back where it was.
Elaina and I lay in her bed under the covers and she turns on the TV mounted on her wall so we can spend the day relaxing under the cool plush comforter binging different TV shows and junk food. Elaina’s current obsession being: Game of Thrones.
“Thanks for doing this,” I say, and she grants me a brilliant smile that is filled with delight. There is also a flicker of worry in her eyes. I know she wants to ask me about what happened, and I wish I could tell her. If only I could. If only life wasn’t this cruel.
I squeeze her hand and smile back.
Wyatt
When I arrive home, I fill Nuke’s food and water bowls, give him a good pet and wait.
It’s already five-thirty, and she’s not here. Why isn’t she here? I try to avoid the discomfort of stress by taking a quick shower, dressing in old jeans and a wife-beater, and decide reluctantly to shave my face.
I’ve been waiting for Savannah to text me for two days, and in the span of those two days, I’ve realized that I want to cut the bullshit. She needs to know how I feel, and what exactly I want. For starters, she can’t be dating my son.
So I wait, and I wait some more.
It is six-thirty when she finally arrives. She’s wearing a light blue long-sleeved sweater with a scoop neck that shows off the swell of her breasts, and dark wash jeans that hug her slender curves. I swallow, desire flooding my body. How can she have this sort of effect on me? How is it possible?
“I’m sorry, Elaina’s dad took us out to dinner and I told them my dad was picking me up but they insisted on waiting for a long time.”
“Elaina?” I ask, cocking a brow.
“My friend,” she explains, and then comes closer. I am about to berate her for walking all that way so late at night, but when I see her face I notice something. Something that makes my blood boil, and my skin grow hot with fury.
“Do you have…” I can’t bear to stomach the words.
“I, uh…” she tucks a strand of her windswept black hair behind her ear and glances up at me with a shame-filled dark blue gaze. Her cheeks and nose are red from the October cold, and I resist the urge to go to her with a tray of hot tea and a blanket. “I hit my eye yesterday when I was getting out of my car. It was stupid.”
I am frozen, my mouth horribly dry. If someone touched her….I don’t know how to silence my thoughts. My hands burn with the itch to do the same to whoever gave her that mark.
“Don’t lie to me, Savannah,” I say, voice hollow.
She is silent, and can hardly meet my gaze. She lets her eyes skirt around the floor. To me, to Nuke, to the rug, to the ceiling, to the TV. Her entire body screams both agony and anxiety.
“I can’t tell you what really happened,” she whispers, and throws her eyes to the floor, crossing her arms under her breasts, in turn pushing up her beautiful tits. “All I can say is that I’m not going home.”
I swallow, trying to focus. I take one step toward her.
“You can’t tell me?” I repeat, trying to keep the murderous rage out of my tone.
She shakes her head.
“I’m going to beat whoever did this to you to a pulp,” I hiss through my teeth. Then I wonder, was it Derrick? Is my own son this manically destructive?
“No, Wyatt. Please,” she says, rushing forward and grabbing a hold of my wrists. “I don’t need you to avenge me.”
“No one should ever lay a fucking finger on you. Do you understand that?” I blow out a heated breath and take her into my arms. “Whoever did this deserves the same.”
She nods against my chest, and I feel her break down. I know she doesn’t want to, but there are tears there, dripping down my shirt, soaking through to my skin. I stroke her back gently, kissing her scalp as her shoulders shake with sobs.
“Give me a name,” I demand. “Sav, this is not going to go unpunished. I don’t care what I have to do.”
She shakes her head, unable to form sentences. Incoherent. Inconsolable. It inspires the urge to kill whatever bastard hurt her.
“Honey…” I whisper. “Sav…”
She finally gathers her bearings and looks up at me beseechingly.
“For now, can you just hold me?” she asks, voice a reedy wisp.
I grab ahold of her hand and lead her upstairs to the bedroom. She wipes the tears from her beautiful eyes and I draw back the covers, letting her sink into the mattress. I flop down beside her and tug her to my chest, but when I do so, she winces.
“They hurt you elsewhere?” I snap.
She nods, and I carefully let her go back to her own spot.
“May I?” I ask, suggesting that I’d like to take her clothes off. “I want to see if you need any medical help.”
She agrees and I carefully undress her, revealing black panties and a matching bra. I bite my tongue to hold back my desire for her. Now is not the time. She needs me to be here for her without expectations.
“I’m fine,” she insists softly.
But as my eyes travel her body, a fresh wave of primal hatred rises up within me. I lean down and allow my fingers to flutter over her soft flesh. Her long legs are smattered with bruises, and her ribs are colored with tiny blooms of darkness. Even her arms bear marks. My heart pounds in my ears, and all I can think about is the fact that I want to tear this person apart. Who could dare hurt her?
“You’re not fine,” I grumble, and gently press my fingers against her ribs. She is lucky they aren’t broken.
She reaches for me and I comply, leaning over her beautiful body. My legs brush against her and she grabs my shirt in fistfuls, pulling me into a kiss. This kiss is deep, needy, demanding. Her lips taste dewy and delectable, and I’d suck, nibble, and lick them for days if she let me.
“Savannah…” I say, tearing away from her. She holds fast to my shirt, not letting me go. “We can’t. Not right now.”
“Please,” she says, and lifts up to join our lips once more. Our tongues clash and swirl.
Is this what she needs right now? To feel wanted? Cared for? Loved? My body tenses at the thought of love. Am I capable of loving anyone?
If anyone in this town knew what we were doing, I would either be shot, beaten, or imprisoned. I have no doubt the officials of Thornwood would have me castrated. But what would they do to her? The urgency I feel is due to the secretive nature of our relationship, the fact that she is only eighteen and I’m in my thirties, and the delicious lust that fills me up for everything that she is. This is wrong. I know it is. But, I can’t stay away from her. And now, seeing the bruises on her body, I know without a shadow of a doubt, that I never will.
“Savannah, you must tell me exactly what you want,” I utter, near to her ear.
“I want your mouth on my pussy,” she nearly whines, and I let out a mostly inaudible groan. My cock springs into hardness immediately. How could anyone ever resist her?
“Get on all fours,” I say, and she does so with a confused expression. My hands fan over her bruises, and I promise myself I will get revenge. I will find out who did this to her, and if I don’t kill them, I will maim them or beat them into an unrecognizable state.
I kneel behind her, taking in the sight of her raised ass. Her plump cheeks and slender thighs are so fucking inviting. The tight black thong rests in the crease of her ass begging me to slip it aside and reveal her.
“Good girl,” I murmur, and she lets out a shivering breath, and her back arches harder.
I will not be rough with her today, and lean my face down near her ass and lay kisses on the delicate skin. I start at the top of her back, and work in a circle, avoiding her more sensitive places. Still, she is flexing and arching for me. I can hear her breath, and glance up at her to see her hands gripping the pillows.
“My needy girl,” I whisper against her ass, enjoying the way she reacts to me.
I continue to kiss her
, suckling her skin carefully and leading a pathway toward the crevasse. First, I kiss her asshole, and she nearly turns back, but I lay a palm on her back to soothe her.
“Shh. It’s okay.”
I lick along the edge of her thong, tasting her intoxicating wetness. I continue to lick her, lapping at her panties like a thirsty animal. She pushes back against me, burying my face in her ass. I hold onto her thighs, making sure she doesn’t go anywhere, and press my lips to where her clit will be, underneath the black fabric. A moan escapes her lips and she bucks back against me.
“You’re such a tease,” she giggles.
“What, are you not enjoying this?” I ask her, slipping one finger under her thong and tugging it against her wet sex. “If you don’t want me to do this, tell me.”
She goes silent for a moment as I use the friction of her panties to rub against her folds, and she lets out a shaky breath.
“No, I want it,” she expresses hungrily.
“I know you do, honey,” I affirm, and return my mouth to her ass. She is flexing and arching, wishing for me to give her immediate satisfaction. Although I want to do it, I need her to have the build up before her release. I want her to shatter with pleasure.
I let my tongue drag up and around her asshole, then dip down to her opening, slipping her thong aside and finally allowing my tongue to greet her flesh. She is dripping for me. Glistening. I stifle yet another groan and return my tongue to her, but this time, I ease a finger into her pussy. She drops her head into the pillows, and she lets out a louder moan, her toes clenching.
“Wyatt…”
As I kiss and suckle her lips, she stifles cries and moans into the pillow. I use one finger to pump in and out of her wet pussy slowly, enjoying the way my finger rubs against the edges of her hole.
“Don’t cum yet,” I order her, and she nearly growls in frustration.
I continue my exploration of her, and finally address the place she most desperately wants. I harden my tongue and rub it against her clit, and she shoves herself back against me with the rhythm of my strokes. I lap at her, and then suck her clit into my mouth. I wish I could look at her face.
“Oh…” she gasps, racked with obvious delirium.
“No,” I say between sucks, watching as her body clenches up and then relaxes, and I know that she hates me for getting her so close and then stopping her. I just hope she’ll forgive me once she explodes.
She’s panting for breath, and I draw her closer, pushing my lips onto her clit and swirling my tongue around her perfect nub. I lift up and draw my pants down, introducing the tip of my cock to her sopping entrance. Savannah shoves herself back once more, and I hurry to unclasp her bra, letting her breasts free to sway as I fuck her. I reach around and play with her nipples as I slowly, gently, ease my cock inside her. I probe her gently as she writhes, nearly inconsolable with want.
“You’re going to come around my cock,” I tell her simply, and she nods her head urgently, her face screwed up in intense concentration and unstabilized desire. She lowers her shoulders and face to the pillows and rearranges her grip on them and lifts her ass even higher, allowing me to pulse inside her in gentle strokes. I love the feel of her. Slipping in and out. Her lovely pussy welcoming me, resisting and then allowing me entry with the pressure I give.
I cup her breasts, allowing my fingers to add feathering friction. And then I begin more passionate strokes. Filling her up, hitting the places inside her that make her shake. I then use one hand, three fingers, to rub her clit as I pulse inside her to the hilt of my cock.
“Oh my...god…” she cries out, and then I see her legs shake and she freezes, unable to move as her orgasm claims her. She clamps around me and I groan aloud as her pussy muscles contract in waves, milking the fucking cum out of me.
I jerk as her orgasm continues to drag me with her, and I hold her hips and shudder with delight as our orgasms collide. She squeals as the final tides of her orgasm wash over her and then she slumps, being held up by the thick of my cock. The spurts of my cum ebb and I withdraw, kissing her ass once more before I roll over and flop onto my back beside her.
“Good fucking girl,” I growl.
She looks up at me, the side of her face pressed into the pillow as she drags in breath. She smiles, and my heart thuds in my chest. Her smile is bright. Joyful. Fulfilled.
I roll toward her and hold her near, and she shuffles into my arms so that our bodies are aligned. We breathe together, lost in the aftermath of our pleasure.
“Thank you,” she says.
Savannah
“I want to know why you got divorced. Tell me about the other girl,” I ask.
We’re sitting in front of the breakfast table. It’s Tuesday and I’m skipping school. At this point, I can’t go home. I’ll make up different excuses as to why, and hopefully I can couch hop until the end of the year.
Wyatt has made a spread of toast and eggs, and I’m forcing myself to eat so that he doesn’t worry any more than he already has.
His eyes flash to mine. He’s so sexy in the morning, his eyes puffy with sleep, brown hair mussed and hassled. He’s shirtless, his natural muscles shown off in the morning light. He laces his hands in front of him on the table and gives me a hard look.
“Why do you want to know?” he asks.
“I think I deserve to know,” I reply, tone strong.
“Savannah…” he begins reluctantly.
“No,” I shake my head, hating that he’s so unwilling to open up to me. “If we’re going to have this, you have to talk to me. Real conversations. I know you said before you don’t like to let anyone in, but that has to change with me.”
He sighs, resting his chin on his steepled hands.
“I’ll tell you the story if you tell me who hurt you.”
I sit back in my chair as if the wind has been knocked from me. Is he really going to do this?
“I can’t,” I shake my head, taking a meager bite of toast. “I already told you.”
He sends me a lazy smirk and then tilts back in his chair.
“Then we’re not going to go there. I need to know who did this to you so that I can take care of you.”
The words, take care of you, haunt me deep into my soul. It’s like a satisfying meal for my spirit. I get a high from his words, the way he says them, and what this means. Do I dare hope? Could we ever have this potential dream life together? Maybe we both imagine it, yet keep it to ourselves. Dark secrets just like the one we’re living now, careful not to speak them so that they stay protected in our minds.
“You want to take care of me?” I snicker, feeling rather childish. “You’re not going to be my “daddy”,” I say with conviction. “So get that thought out of your head.”
I see a flash of excitement ripple through his gaze and he shrugs.
“Well, you do need a new phone. Clothes. A car,” he says, referencing all the things my dad has taken away from me, and then swallows before saying: “A place to stay.”
I start to laugh, but it dies in my throat. I stare at him, crossing my arms over the t-shirt that he’s lent me. The fabric rubs against my nipples, and I am given a flashback to yesterday when he’d completely unraveled me.
“I can’t let you do that for me.”
“Savannah,” he says, voice strong. “Let me help you. I have the means.”
“I don’t want any of that unless you give me the story,” I smile sassily, and he looks to be holding back a flash of desire. “Maybe…” I start to get out of my chair, allowing him to watch my naked legs as I walk in languid steps toward him around the table. “I can convince you.”
His lips go flat. The only piece of clothing I’m wearing is his long white t-shirt, and I know, as his eyes rake across me, drinking me in, that he loves it.
“Don’t,” he tells me sternly. “I don’t think I can be gentle again. Especially when you’re being a brat.”
A thrill runs through me and I smile again, stepping closer and
then going to my knees in front of him.
“Come on, Mr. Draper...what’s one little story going to hurt?” I simper, hanging my face over his crotch.
He grabs my chin gently and swiftly releases his already stiffened cock from under the band of his sweats. I’m nervous, and I hope he can’t tell. I’ve built myself up to seem confident, and I think he can tell that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. He smirks down at me and I take a deep breath.
“You look good down there,” he rests his arm on the armrest and props his arm up with his hand.
“Good enough for you to tell me the truth about the divorce?” I ask, and he nods once.
“I can’t say no to you,” he utters darkly. “I would give you anything in my power.”
“Anything?” I ask, nearly breathless.
My stomach flutters and I use my lips to kiss along the shaft of his cock. I want to watch him come undone under my touch like I do for him. I’ve never sucked a cock before, but I can fake it till I make it. Fake it till I make him come.
Wyatt’s jaw flexes and his head drops back on the chair as I begin to lick around his head. I take his cock into my mouth, only partially at first, and he reaches out and caresses my hair. I bob my head softly, and the only sound in the house is my wet mouth on him. I begin to suck and I can tell he is having a hard time not gripping my head. His pelvis tilts up to greet me and he reaches out for me. For my face, my hair, my shoulders.
“You’re such a naughty girl,” he rumbles, his voice deep and lust-drunk.
I try to take all of him into my mouth, and I gag. Listening to his breathy noises, my mouth lavishing him, and the quiet of the morning causes arousal to slicken my pussy. He grunts and I shove his cock deep in my mouth again, moaning as I do so.
“Oh...Sav,” he exhales.
He lifts a bit and moves his member in and out of my mouth. I close my eyes, adoring every taste, touch, sound, and smell of him.
“I’m going to come…” he rasps.
The Prom Queen's Sinner: Thornwood Small Town Forbidden Romance Book One Page 14