“Belle. We’re leaving. C’mon.”
Wyatt held in a moan. Rigor’s timing couldn’t be worse. “Tell him you’re coming,” he said, pushing into her with renewed enthusiasm and riding his palm harder over her swollen little clit. “Tell him.”
“I can’t … I…” Belle was trembling and panting.
“ShoutI’m coming…” Wyatt twisted his lips into a grin. “It’s the truth, ain’t it?”
“I … I…” she started.
“Say it. Tell him you’re coming.”
“I’m … I’m coming,” she called breathlessly.
Yeah, too right she is.
“What?” Rigor shouted through the door.
“I’m coming. Oh … yes … I’m coming. I’m coming.”
Silence, then, “Hurry the fuck up, will you?”
“Come,” Wyatt whispered against her lips. “Come for me, now.”
She held her breath, and he stared into her eyes as he pushed her into a climax.
Her pussy gripped his fingers as a full-body tremble shook every inch of her. She cried out, and he set his mouth over hers, trapping the sound.
She shook and sank onto his invasion, clinging to his arms as her sweet pussy spasmed, squeezing and releasing over and over.
“Ah, fuck,” he murmured. “You’re the hottest damn woman I’ve ever touched.”
He wasn’t lying. She was so responsive. He’d never get tired of seeing intense pleasure hold her hostage. And he wanted to be the one to give that intense pleasure.
Damn it, why had this job come up now? Why had Rigor decided to head back to Phoenix before Wyatt had the chance to spend the night giving her orgasm after orgasm?
“Belle,” he said slowing now.
“Oh, my God, that…” Her breaths were coming short and fast.
“Felt nice,” he finished for her.
“Yeah, that.” She ran her fingers into his hair. “I don’t want to go.”
“You have to.” He pulled his fingers from her and stepped back. “But now, when I jerk off later.” He held up his hand, sleek with her arousal. “My fingers will smell of your cunt, and that will turn me the fuck on.”
“You’re filthy.” She grinned and wriggled her denim skirt straight.
Outside, the bikes were revving, a storm of exhausts blasting around the concrete.
“Here.” He reached for her backpack. “You should go.”
Pursing her lips, she blew out a breath and took her bag, then shoved the last few things into it. “Rigor will know … he must … I…”
“He doesn’t.” Wyatt pulled the door open.
“How do you know?”
“’Cause he would have smashed this door down if he’d thought for a second I had my fingers inside you.” He nodded at the bikes. “I’ll see you in a week.”