Wycked Escape (Wycked Obsession Book 3)

by Wynne Roman

  I shrug, pray I can keep it casual, and my gaze skitters away. “I . . . uh . . .”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I was just thinking. Wondering . . . how you kept it hard when it had to hurt like hell.”

  He doesn’t answer, and I can’t resist. I have to look at him.

  “That make you think about other girls?”

  How does he do that? He’s always been perceptive, but he’s gotten almost witchy about it.

  I wish I could deny it, but I can’t. I nod slowly.

  He blinks, and when he looks at me again, his eyes are blank. No emotion, no softness, just blue detachment.

  “It was porn,” he says distantly.

  “What?”

  “I watched porn while I got it done.”

  “I . . .” What can I say?

  He sighs, and after a minute takes my arm and backs me against the bed. I hit the edge, sit automatically, while he squats in front of me.

  I’m in my underwear, and he’s naked.

  “Listen to me, baby.” He waits until I nod.

  “You know I’ve been with a lot of women—”

  “Fucked.” The word is out before I can stop it, but I have to hear it for what it is.

  He blinks, but his expression remains vague. Nods. “All right. Fucked.”

  He takes a breath, starts again. “I’ve fucked a lot of women. Single. Double. Whatever. I’ve even had three. It was what it was, but that has nothing to do with this.” He gestures between us. “You. Us. Now.”

  “I . . .” What? I shake my head. “How can it not?”

  I can tell he’s trying to figure out how he wants to answer, and so I add, “You shared your body with them. You put your dick inside them. Their pussies, their mouths. Put your lips and tongue on them.”

  “But that’s all.”

  “All?” Every muscle in my body goes stiff. “All!” I repeat. “Noah, that’s . . . everything. It’s intimate! It’s like giving them your essence!”

  “My essence?” His head jerks back, and he stands. “My essence is fucking here!” He jabs a finger at his head. “Touching them? Letting them touch me? It’s like putting on a shirt or a pair of pants. Just my body.”

  I swallow. “But your body was touching theirs. Welcoming theirs. Finding release with theirs.”

  “It’s temporary. Just. My. Body,” he repeats. “I had nothing to do with creating it. Making it what it is. Yeah, maybe I try to stay healthy and keep fit, but that’s more about survival than anything else. My body? It’s just a product of my parents forgetting to use a goddamn condom.”

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  “No. There isn’t.” He points to his head again. “You wanna talk about my essence? That’s where my essence lives. It’s what makes me the person I am. The person I want to be. Where I think, make my choices, my decisions, my . . . desires. It has nothing to do with my body, and those women got none of who I really am.”

  “But you wanted them,” I manage to point out, even with a dry throat. He almost makes it sound reasonable. Believable.

  Less painful.

  “That’s semantics,” he snaps in frustration. “My body wanted them. I admit it. I wanted the release. My fucked-up ego wanted something I thought my old man had. Wanted to show him I was just as good as he ever thought about being.”

  He closes his eyes for long enough that I have to wonder what he’s thinking. When he finally looks at me again, I only see resolve.

  “But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “Me? The real me? That essence that means so much to you?”

  “Yes?”

  “It was never touched. Not once. Not even close. Except—”

  I have to breathe. Lick my lips. “Except what?”

  “With you, sweetness. You. The only time my mind and my emotions have ever been engaged with a woman are when I’ve been with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Noah

  Well, fuck. Never meant to say any of that stuff. Not even sure I knew I believed half of it until I heard the words come out of my mouth. Now that it’s there between us, it’s real. And true.

  Every bit of it.

  But what does that mean for Paige? Does she understand things in the same way I do? The way I’m trying to explain? Does it even matter to her?

  More than that, does she believe me?

  God, she has to.

  I’m surprised to find myself saying that little prayer. Haven’t done anything like that in years, but it seems important right now. Those things I said to her pretty much define me. My past.

  The man I used to be, because right now, it doesn’t feel like me anymore. It hasn’t been in a while. Oh, maybe I kept doing stuff the same old way. It was easy. Almost comfortable. Didn’t want to have to figure shit out. But all the crap that’s come at me and my friends in the last few months has been enough to grab me by the balls and make me think.

  So now that fucker I used to be feels like somebody I need to leave behind. Way, way in the past. Forever.

  Could it be that I’ve found the chance to escape? If I have, I’m taking it.

  I look at Paige, offer her an honest expression that makes me feel even more naked than I am in reality. And exposed. Deep down, beneath-the-surface revealed. Like the skin and bone and muscle are all gone, and only the essence she finds important is left to be seen.

  It’s like being on stage, all alone, and with no band and no drum kit to hide behind.

  I hate it—but I can’t do anything less for her, either. Not after everything else that’s happened between us.

  She deserves everything I have.

  Paige looks back at me, and the hint of her own secrets darts through her amazing hazel eyes. Her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, giving her nowhere to hide. I can see every curve and angle of her face, her beautiful skin, any small change in her expression.

  If she decides to show it, because it’s also like I can see everything about her except what she feels inside.

  The years we’ve been apart have done a lot of things. Good and bad, I suppose, and for her as well as for me. I’m facing one of my biggest changes right now, and Paige?

  Well, she’s developed mad skills at concealing whatever she wants to.

  I wait, forcing myself to remain open and honest in the way I hate to do. A way that I’ve learned to avoid as a B-list celebrity, but a way that she deserves.

  It’s the least I owe her.

  I close my eyes in a slow blink. Even if I get everything else wrong, this is the one thing I have to do right.

  I don’t know how long I wait. Seems like minutes but is probably only a few seconds. Then, finally, she moves.

  She slips from the mattress and sinks to her knees in front of me. Tilting her head back, she looks up at me with wide, honest eyes. She opens her mouth just enough for her tongue to peek out, and then she leans forward.

  Lightly, almost delicately, she licks the crown of my cock, circling around the very tip and then down until she finds that oh-my-God spot just under the head. She strokes over the head, the slit, that magic spot. Again, again, again.

  I can’t help it. My dicks twitches.

  “Hello there, sweetheart,” she says with a soft laugh.

  She strokes my length, her fingertips dancing lightly on either side, and then she tongues my slit. My hips flex on their own, begging for more, and she’s generous. She takes the tip into her mouth, sucking lightly, and then pushes forward until the crown is covered. My brain, my body, go into overload.

  “God, baby,” I gasp, planting my palm against the back of her head, guiding but not pushing. “I love your mouth.”

  She pulls back enough to swipe her tongue over the tip again, while her fingers tease. She plays with me, licking and stroking and kissing, and I want to beg her to never, ever stop.

  Looking down, I see her on her knees, with her dark head bent over me and her hands cradling my shaft.
The word Wycked, in its bold red ink, glares back at me.

  It suddenly seems . . . not right.

  I’ve seen this image before, been in this position before. Many times. It always gave me the feeling of strength. Of power and control. Of being desired.

  But this . . . ? No. This is different. Very different.

  This is Paige, and her sweet mouth, her seductive body, deserve so much more than her being on her knees to give me a blowjob.

  “No, baby.”

  I take hold of her biceps and pull her to her feet. Her eyes are dark with confusion.

  “Noah?” She gives a quick lick of her lips. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Didn’t you like it?”

  A laugh almost chokes me. “Jesus, baby, I loved it. Love your mouth, your hands on me.” I search for what else I want to say. “But I want to touch you. Look at you. Pleasure you. You’re so beautiful, sweetness.”

  I run my fingers up over her arms, earning a small shiver. I smile when I see gooseflesh rise on her skin and her nipples pucker in reaction. Good girl.

  I toy with the strap of her white lace bra, admire her in the matching thong. It’s sexy and modest at the same time. I want to leave her with this last bit of covering because it turns me on so fucking much, but I want her to be naked more.

  There can be nothing between us.

  I take her mouth in a kiss that goes all the way through me. Her lips part almost immediately, and I slip my tongue between them. I want—need—to taste her. Claim her. Give myself to her.

  We kiss again, and I lure her forward until I can suck her tongue into my mouth. She comes willingly, and we trade strokes until my breath is gone. Hers is, too, but neither of us seems to care all that much.

  She moves, shifting away just a bit, and then I’m aware of her bra falling to the floor. I have to step back, but mostly so I can just look. I’ve touched her tits again, tasted them, but getting a chance to look my fill is almost enough to knock me to my knees.

  I trace one finger around the puckered crest and smile at her indrawn breath. I do it again, the other one this time, and she arches her back to thrust them forward.

  “You’ve grown, baby,” I whisper and lean forward to drop a quick kiss on her lips. “You’re rounder.” I circle her areola again. “Fuller.” I drag my thumb over her nipple. “So fucking beautiful.”

  And so goddamn sensitive.

  I drop my head down, crouch a little, and then I take one nipple in my mouth. I circle my tongue around it, suck, do it again, and then switch sides. Nothing has ever tasted so good, except maybe her pussy.

  Paige’s fingers shove into my hair, holding me close, and I toy with the nipple in my mouth, skimming my thumb over the other. She gasps, arches against my mouth.

  “Noah.” Her voice is ragged. “That feels soooo good.”

  I smile to myself, do it again and again, keep doing it until she sags against me. I can smell her arousal, and if I touch her there, I know she’ll be drenched for me. Satisfaction makes my dick harder.

  I walk her backwards, just a step or two, until she bumps against the side of bed. She grabs my shoulders for balance, and I give her a reassuring kiss. “Trust me, sweetness,” I whisper against her lips, and her tongue darts forward into my mouth.

  Best answer I could get.

  I lower her to the mattress and let go long enough to pull her panties off. I toss them behind me and look at the delicious picture she makes. Full breasts and hips, narrow waist, hard nipples begging for my attention, and the plea of her pink, damp pussy.

  Jesus, I want this woman. My cock twitches in awareness, and I want to reassure him. Be patient, buddy. The wait will be worth it. Guaranteed.

  “I need to taste you again, sweetness.”

  I drop to my knees next to the bed and drape her legs over my shoulders. Her cunt is open and revealed to me, and it looks so damn beautiful. I can’t resist.

  I stroke my tongue over her, savor the taste of her. I lick up and down, circle her clit, narrow my tongue to fuck into her channel. She groans and thrusts her pussy against my mouth.

  I give a rough chuckle of satisfaction and do it again. Again. As many times as I can, knowing—praying—I can drive her crazy with arousal.

  I wrap one arm around her leg so I can reach her clit with my thumb and circle it, round and round. I use my other hand to sink two fingers into her pussy, sending them deep, pump them in and out. She moans her satisfaction.

  “You like that, baby?” I demand, licking again.

  “Yes.” It’s a word, a breath, a whimper. “Oh, God, yes.”

  I drag my mouth up over her, suck her clit deep, and Paige gives me a sharp, powerful cry. I do it again, crook my fingers upward to find her G-spot, massage until her hips thrust up.

  “There you are, baby.” I lick her pussy one more time. “You ready to come for me, sweetness?”

  She doesn’t really answer, just squirms against me and makes growling, needy noises. Smiling, I can’t make her wait anymore. My fingers set up a rhythm inside her, I scrape my teeth over her clit once, twice—and then she’s gone.

  “Noah!”

  She screams my name, thrusting like a wild thing, shoving her fingers into my hair to anchor my mouth against her. I let my hand fuck her through it, while my lips and tongue soothe her sensitive flesh.

  Her ragged breathing regulates slowly, even though her chest still heaves. She twitches from time to time, telling me she needs more. She needs my dick, and holy motherfucking God, it needs her! I’m harder than I’ve ever been, and the tip is leaking. Dying to be inside her.

  “Noah,” she half-whispers, half-moans.

  “What, baby?” I give her pussy one last lick.

  “If you never do another thing for me, I need you to fuck me now!”

  Jesus.

  I grin in approval as I stand, fumble in the dresser drawer for a condom, and she scoots to the middle of the bed. Sheathed, I join her but don’t resist another kiss. A second, mouths open, and my tongue plunging.

  Can she taste herself on me? The idea hardens my already steely cock.

  She opens for me, arms and legs and mouth, and I move into place. Her expression is heavy with desire, her eyes dark and demanding, and I keep my gaze trained on her as I drag the tip of my wrapped dick through her wetness.

  Damn, I wish I could feel her flesh on flesh. Never had a woman bareback.

  She flexes her hips upward, ready for me, and I forget everything else.

  Christ almighty, I’m so goddamn ready for her!

  Slowly, I push inside her. Inch by inch. She gives a low, satisfied groan.

  Fully seated, I rotate my hips. “Like that, baby?”

  “Yes!” She imitates the motion. “Oh, God! I can feel you everywhere.”

  I try to hold back, to give her body a few seconds to adjust to my size, but she tightens around me.

  “Please, Noah.” She shoves her hands in my hair, pulls my head down for a kiss. Her tone and expression are pleading. “I need you. Fuck me now!”

  With a rough growl, I pull back and then snap my hips forward in a full, deep thrust. I do it again, tearing a groan from her.

  “Yes! Oh, God, yes.”

  I kiss her, our mouths milking each other’s again and again, sometimes in rhythm with our bodies and sometimes not. Doesn’t matter. However it works, I need the contact of her mouth as my cock slides in and out of her wet, demanding pussy.

  She wraps her legs around my waist, inviting me into her with her own feminine thrusts. I can’t stop moving.

  I want to do something—change positions, find a way to go deeper, please her in a way she’s never known—but I can’t. I can’t let go of her body, her mouth. They’re tight and wet, they’re united with me as intimately as possible.

  They’re mine.

  She’s mine.

  “Noah,” she moans against my mouth. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

  “Like
what?” I give my hips a good, solid snap.

  “Oohh!” She breathes into my mouth. “Like . . . that. Like I can’t think.” She makes another noise. “Aahh. I can only feel. Like my body isn’t mine.”

  I give another couple of hard pumps. “Whose is it, baby?”

  “Oohh!”

  “Whose body?” Thrust.

  “Whose pussy?” Thrust.

  “Whose, sweetness?” Thrust. “Whose?”

  “Yours! Oh, God, Noah! It’s—I’m yours!”

  I lose my shit then. My mouth is sealed against hers, my tongue fucking her mouth like my cock fucks her cunt, and I can’t stop moving. She meets me thrust for thrust, and then I taste her scream as her pussy begins to flutter around me.

  “Paige!” I shout her name and pound into her. I can’t fucking stop. “Jesus, sweetness.”

  “I’m coming.” Her growl is almost not human sounding. “Noah!”

  My body is moving on its own now, because I can’t think. There’s only Paige, her tight warmth, her orgasming body, and my dick buried so deep in her that we’re one.

  Again. Again. Again. I’m lost—and then I’m coming, too. Harder, longer, deeper than ever before, and nothing else matters.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Paige

  Things are different between us after Noah and I make love.

  That’s what it was. Making love. There was caring and tenderness that isn’t there with fucking. Even between people who love each other.

  Love?

  People who love each other?

  The words are somewhat unexpected. I’ve made a point to not think that way. But now that the idea is out there . . . I admit it scares the hell out of me.

  Is that really what we have between us? Is that how I feel? How Noah feels?

  I can’t begin to guess. Not yet. Only a few days ago, I hadn’t seen him in years and had no expectation of doing so. I wasn’t in love with Drake and I think I always knew it, but I was willing to see where the relationship might go. Now, with old memories stirred and Drake’s shitty behavior, I don’t know if I want to have any serious feelings for a man.