by Hawkins, JD
“Sure…”
Before I can act any weirder, I bolt for the living room, where the others are already spread around the couch and chairs. As they tuck into chips and dip, they bicker loudly over game choices and what kind of takeout to get delivered. Game night is just us kids—so things usually get a little more heated than get-togethers with the whole family. I make the rounds, hugging and kissing everyone hello as they continue to argue good-naturedly.
Even though everyone’s occupied, I try to be extra cool when I greet Wyatt, nodding my hello to him briefly. He winks and smiles at me, and even in that tiny gesture I can see what he’s thinking, the dirty thoughts behind his sparkling eyes. I settle myself on the couch beside Winnie and try not to look too flushed, even though my pulse is racing.
“Pictionary it is then!” Aiden says, with an air of finality. “Girls versus boys, let’s go!”
“Don’t be so juvenile,” Winnie shoots back with an eye-roll. “I want Wyatt on my team. He’s always been the best guesser.”
“No way!” Becca snorts, turning toward my sister. “C’mon Winnie, Melina—we got this. Let’s show them what happens when the ladies stick together. Prepare to get your ass handed to you, Aiden.”
“You are on!” he says gleefully.
Maybe it’s been awhile, but game night hasn’t changed a bit.
Once the food is ordered, we all have a drink in our hand, and the whiteboard is set up in front of the couch (girls on one side of the room, guys on the other), we begin.
The game starts off slowly—game nights usually do, though they can get rowdy and cutthroat pretty quickly. But as I call out answers for my own team, and watch the boys get increasingly competitive during their turns, the game is the last thing on my mind.
Even with all our friends around us, even amid the loud laughter at the bad drawings and wrong answers, I catch Wyatt’s eye every once in a while and it feels intimate—like we’re conspirators putting up an act. In a way we are. His sly smiles tell me he’d rather it was just the two of us—and the way it sets me daydreaming about what would happen makes me wish the same.
“Melina!” Winnie says, snapping me out of a reverie. “You already drunk or something? You’re up!”
I kill it during my turn, drawing a detailed image of a desert for the word ‘drought,’ and with the boys thoroughly deflated (and behind on points) we all decide to take a little intermission for them to talk strategy while the girls get first dibs on the Thai food.
I head to the bathroom first, checking myself in the mirror as I try to rub off some whiteboard marker from my fingers. Seeing that large shower with its jets. Remembering the sensation of cold tiles against my back…
The door shutting behind me draws my attention and I look up into the mirror.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Wyatt says.
“Wyatt!” I hiss. “You can’t be in here. We’re gonna get caught together.”
“You’re right,” he says. “Wouldn’t want that to happen.”
Then he turns around, locks the door, and spins toward me again with a desirous look.
I watch him in the mirror as he draws closer, swaggering like a cat who knows he’s got his prey. He comes up behind me, hands winding around my front, and I melt back into his chest a little, though not enough to forget where we are.
“Wyatt…” I warn, in a soft moan, turning around his tight arms. “You’ve got to get out of—”
His lips steal the end of the sentence from my lips, and just like before all sense and logic disappears, my mind filled with the sensation of having his mouth against mine. I go dizzy with lust, gripping his biceps for balance, until he finally pulls back and smiles down at me. It feels like waking up from a dream.
“You’re an incredible artist,” Wyatt says, smiling broadly. “That’s one of the many things I like about you. Just wanted to let you know.”
He pinches my ass with a grin and I jolt into him, smacking his shoulder.
“I appreciate it and all, but maybe a locked bathroom with all of our friends on the other side of the door isn’t the best place to tell me that?”
“I couldn’t wait—turns out you’re extremely sexy when you’re winning.”
I smirk. “I’d say the same back to you, but…well…”
“Ouch!” Wyatt murmurs, enjoying the fact that I’m playing along, leaning in for another kiss.
A knock at the door makes me break away, heart jumping as I break into an instant cold sweat.
“Someone in there?” Aiden’s voice booms from behind the door.
“One minute,” Wyatt calls back, then returns his lips to mine like it’s nothing.
I push him back and start looking around the bathroom for any closet or cupboard that might fit a grown woman—goddamn Wyatt and his fashionably minimalist interior decorating style.
“Wyatt!” I say as harshly as a low whisper can be. “What are we gonna do?”
Wyatt shrugs nonchalantly.
“Fear of getting caught is a hell of a turn-on,” he says, nipping at my neck.
“No it isn’t!” I say, wishing my voice didn’t sound so loud. “Well, maybe. But not here. Not now.”
“Ok, ok, I’ll handle it. Just relax,” Wyatt says, raising his palms. “But you’re gonna make it up to me after everyone’s gone.”
I glare, incredulous at his nonchalance.
“Fine. Just fix it.”
He ushers me to the side and moves to the door. I clutch my t-shirt as if I can somehow keep my thumping heart from exploding out of my chest, watching him unlock the door and open it while I experience the combined terror of every horror movie I’ve ever seen.
“Aiden! Just the man I wanted to see,” he says, as he slides through the half-open door. “Before I forget, I wanted to talk to you about something very, very serious. Not out here, let’s go in the other room for a sec—it’s about…”
I hear their voices fade and after a few moments tiptoe my way to the door to peek out into the hallway. The coast is clear. I dash to the kitchen feeling about five gallons of blood drain from my face, leaning on the counter and breathing heavily until I start laughing gently with the relief of getting away with it. Then I fix up a heaping plate of pad thai and shrimp curry and pour myself another drink, this one a double. After the week I’ve had at work, dealing with all of Jim’s typical crap and Wyatt’s distracting hotness, and then the near-miss my friend-with-benefits and I just had in the bathroom, I feel like I’ve earned it.
When we finish eating and get back into the game, the boys have a renewed enthusiasm, and plenty of strategy. It makes me wonder if Wyatt’s bro-chat with Aiden was more than just a diversion. But even though they clap and whoop themselves into a frenzy, talking a big game, it turns out it’s all in vain. They just can’t muster up any semblance of actual artistic skill no matter how hard they try, and the results are hilarious to watch.
“Vacuum cleaner! Tentacle! Ivy plant!” Aiden calls out as Cody jabs irritably at his messy scrawl.
“Garden hose!” Wyatt adds. “Snake! A long and winding road through a barren countryside!”
“What? No!” Cody’s gesturing as wildly as an air traffic controller now, and us girls are falling all over each other with laughter.
“Time’s up, guys!” Becca calls out finally.
“Elephant!” Cody shouts with frustrated emphasis. “How did you guys not get that?”
The boys don’t even have the energy left to argue anymore. Aiden slouches on the couch looking like he’s gone twelve rounds with Ali, and Wyatt tries to be gracious but Winnie is too busy ribbing him.
We call time on the game, sipping the last of our drinks and lounging around just talking in the living room. I decide to grab a water and get up to go to the kitchen.
“Hey Cody,” I say, finding Wyatt’s brother there, rummaging in the cupboards. “What’re you looking for?”
“Hey, Melina. I’m just looking for some kind of to-go container—figured
I’d take some of that green curry home if everybody’s done with it.”
I grab a water bottle and close the fridge, then reach around him to one of the cupboards below the sink.
“Here you go,” I say, handing a plastic box to him.
Cody takes it, a look of slight confusion on his face. “Great. Thanks,” he says.
I smile back at him, but he frowns deeper, something on his mind.
“What’s wrong?” I say, suddenly feeling awkward.
After a second, he shakes his head.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Come on,” I say, as he busies himself with spooning the curry, “what is it?”
He looks up at me again.
“I guess I was just thinking how happy Wyatt seems to see you again,” he says, looking knowing and mischievous—though Cody always kinda looks like that.
I take it in, though it catches me off-guard.
“Yeah…well, I’m happy to see him too,” I say, making it sound casual. “Good to have him back.”
This time Cody gives me a more serious look.
We lock eyes for a long moment, and I can sense that he wants to say more, that he suspects something’s up, but then he just shrugs and continues to fill the container.
“It’s just nice to see my brother in such a good mood,” he says, warmly.
Then he presses the lid on, sets the container aside, and goes back to the others, leaving me wondering how much he really knows—or thinks he knows—about me and Wyatt.
When I get back to the living room, everyone’s getting up and shifting, ready to leave.
“Ok,” Wyatt says with an air of finality. “Thanks everyone for coming, and for all the nice gifts—well, everyone except Aiden.”
“Ha ha,” Aiden says. “But you should be thanking me for livening up the party. That was the real gift.” His words are drowned out by everyone booing at him, but he just throws back his head and lets loose one of his boyish laughs. “You ready to go, ladies? Winnie?”
Winnie and Becca nod and get up to start hugging Wyatt and Cody goodbye.
“Meli?” he says to me. “Presumably you want to Uber with us, too—seeing as you’ve been drinking.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to look at Wyatt but noticing him in my periphery, “but I’m gonna hang back a bit, finish my drink. I’ll get a cab—don’t worry.”
Aiden’s eyes dart from me to Wyatt, and I hold my breath, but in the end he says nothing. Cody gives me an extra hard squeeze on his way out and says, “Have fun,” in a low voice so that only I can hear him. I punch him playfully on the shoulder and then spend the next few minutes saying goodbye to everyone else in the bustle of coats and handbags in the doorway, turning down further offers of a ride home and making even more excuses.
When the last of them leave, Wyatt calling out his final goodbyes before closing the door, I feel a sense of relief and anticipation rush over me. It’s just the two of us now, and the fatigue I felt seconds ago disappears.
Wyatt fixes his gaze on me, a different man than the one I spent the entire evening talking and competing with. A different intent in his eyes, a different swagger in his shoulders.
“Hell of a night, huh?” he says.
“Oh, it will be,” I say, letting a naughty grin spread across my face.
10
Wyatt
There’s a look in her eyes like she’s trying to burn my clothes off, a sway in her walk working me like a snake charmer. We move toward each other like we’re preparing to battle. I’m ready to taste her again, ready to feel her melt in my arms, itching to tear off those clothes and reveal the perfection of her skin all over again.
Inches away from her—ready to crash my body against, over, inside hers—she stops me. A finger on my mouth, a hand pressing my chest, teasing.
“Not so fast,” she says, wearing a sly look. “This time I want to be in charge.”
I smile my intrigued surprise at her when she pulls her finger away from my lips.
“Feeling confident because your team won?”
She starts walking backwards, trailing a hand across the wall until she gets to the bedroom doorway.
“Feeling like I deserve a prize for beating you so badly.”
She slips past the doorway and I follow her.
“Oh yeah?” I say, stepping inside and wondering where she went.
Suddenly I feel her hands against my back, pushing me toward the king size bed with an aggression that only serves to heighten my arousal. After I hit the mattress, I roll over to see Melina—who was probably hiding behind the door—crawl on top of me with a dangerously commanding look on her face, straddling the hardening bulge of my center.
I lick my lips with appetite, drinking in the sight of this dominant vixen emerging from the shy girl I used to know, the same girl who would turn red every time I flirted with her at game night. Her ability to surprise me in the bedroom turning me on even more.
“What kind of prize do you have in mind?” I say, my hands reaching out for her perfect breasts beneath that tight tee.
She slaps my arms away from her, then starts peeling my shirt up.
“I’d rather show than tell.”
Mesmerized by the sight of her over me, I can’t resist—not that I would—as she ties my hands together at the headboard. Her fingers tracing down my face, shoulders, front. Hips grinding me a little as she bends down to nip at my flesh with her teeth, mixing a little pain with the pleasure, showing me who’s boss.
“I’ve never done this before,” she admits, leaning back and letting a little of that familiar shyness come back into her expression.
“Could’ve fooled me,” I tell her. “Keep going.”
She grins and runs her tongue down my chest, nipping at the ridges of my abs before making her way back up. A snatched kiss, her hungry lips winding around mine, sets my blood thumping in my ears. She starts grinding against me again, moaning softly into my mouth between the kisses, and when she finally pulls back to look down at me with that playful authority again I feel like either me or this headboard is gonna break.
“You’re a cruel woman,” I growl at her.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll enjoy this,” she murmurs as she slides down my body, pulling my pants down to reveal a rigid cock already full and hard with lust.
I watch her for as long as I can. Expert fingers gently stroking, tracing circles around the tip of my cock like it’s some delicate thing when all I want is to slam it inside of her. Her eyes fixed on mine as she brings those pouted lips toward it, the tip of her tongue drawing a wet line up the shaft. I can’t watch anymore, head slamming back into the pillow with the maddening tension, so close and yet so far from rapture.
Her hands squeeze and stroke my balls, tongue licking and twisting around my length, my entire consciousness in her hands, in her mouth—under her control. She sends currents of strength and weakness through me until I’m groaning at the ceiling, writhing on the bed like a chained beast. I clench my teeth with frustrated pleasure as she takes me deeper into her mouth, sinking my cock into the hot wetness of her throat, the sound of her gently gagging making it throb even harder.
She sucks my cock relentlessly, until I’m twisted up inside, almost angry with frustration, desperate for release, for her to stop teasing. Until I’m almost begging for the mercy of her pussy, until I’m undoubtedly hers.
“No…” I groan, when she pulls away. “Melina…”
I open my eyes to find her straddling me, naked and gloriously beautiful, breasts even more incredible than my memory of them. There’s casual power in her movements, a confidence in her eyes, like she’s enjoying this even more than I am.
She reaches down and slides the condom on slowly, as if relishing every second I’m in agonizing closeness, and then positions herself right over my cock, biting her lip, a little sexual abandon entering her dominatrix coolness. I strain against her, burning to enter her, and with a final gasp she moves her pussy over me
, allowing me to break inside those wet walls, enveloping my swollen head tight enough to make my blood explode.
She hisses slightly, palms pressed against my abs, her weight bearing down on my body so I can barely move beneath her, so she can control exactly where I’m going. Her back arching and her breasts bouncing magnificently as she begins to grind on my cock.
“That’s it,” she says, tilting her head back. “Right where I want you.”
Twisting and swaying over me, she takes me inside, all the way, bringing me deeper. She thrusts against me, rocking back and forth, agonizingly slow, controlling me like a plaything—no longer the detached mistress, she’s indulging herself now.
She leans forward, grabbing my jaw to hold me steady as she steals a tongue-lashing kiss. I bite her lips in the fury of my own desire but she pulls back, leaving me gasping at the ceiling. Her body continues to grind in the throes, my grunts mixing with her moans as I pound into her.
“Fuck me,” she whimpers, riding me.
Soon the grinding turns into a bounce, faster and wilder, my cock feeling harder than it’s ever been, so close to the edge I can barely keep my eyes open.
“Melina,” I groan, and the name alone seems too much for me to take now. I explode inside of her, unable to hold out anymore against her extraordinary body, against the perfection of her movements, the rightness of being inside her.
“Wyatt…” she says, the ending of my name drawn out into a high-pitched yell as she loses control herself. Her rhythmic movements quickening for a few seconds before becoming a slow vibration, thighs squeezing, hands gripping my sides, head thrown back.
I feel everything rush out of my body—all the tightness and frustration, the agony and anticipation, the hunger and the ego. The only thing left a cooling rush of happiness.
Melina eases down onto my chest, reaching up to unknot the shirt tying my hands to the headboard, and I bring them down around her, squeezing her warm body to my own, and in this moment I realize there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.
I wake up the next morning to the smell of bacon and butter-fried eggs. It’s Saturday, so there’s no work—or at least, no need to go into the office. I’ve been hammering work on the weekends for years, but maybe it’s time I took a real day off.