Page 165 of The Reason I Married Him
Everything in me says one more hit, one more taste. That’s all I need to subdue this nagging, growing, itching feeling ofneeding her. But my head is telling me it’s all a lie. One more hit will not satisfy the ache. It will only ignite it.
Which means I need to talk this through.
I reach for my phone but realize I left it in the guest house.
“Shit,” I mutter.
She’s probably still sleeping, so I just have to be quiet.
I quietly open the door to the guest house and start to slide my body through the narrow opening, not wanting to bring any of the chilly air into the room—and as I lift my head to look for my phone, I catch Aubree scrambling around on the bed before sticking something under her pillow.
So . . . she’s awake.
I shut the door behind me, ready to ask her if she’s okay, when I hear the telltale sound of vibrating coming from under her pillow.
“What, uh, what are you doing?” she asks with panic in her eyes.
“What am I doing?” I ask while pointing at my chest. “The better question is, what are you doing?”
“N-nothing,” she answers, looking anywhere but at me.
I take a step forward, the vibrating sound increasing. “Aubree . . .”
“Yes?” she asks, still avoiding eye contact.
“Are you getting yourself off?”
“No,” she says as her cheeks darken with embarrassment. “Wh-why would I do that? That’s not, I wasn’t . . . aren’t you going for a run?”
I take in her appearance, freshly awake from bed, the hint of mint in the air indicating she’s brushed her teeth. The red in her cheeks only makes her look that much more adorable. Combine that with the image of her masturbating while I’m gone, and something in my brain switches.
This hunger I’ve felt for her all night takes over, and before I can stop myself, I take off my shoes and socks.
That taste.
Those sounds.
I need them all over again.
I’m taking the hit.
“No,” I say. “I’m not going for a run.” And then I kneel on the bed.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she asks as I reach under her pillow and take hold of her vibrator. I turn it off and toss it to the side.
“You don’t need that,” I say as I tear down the bedding and spread her legs.
“Wyatt,” she whispers right before I lower my body flat on the bed and bring my mouth right to her pussy.
I spread her and press my lips to her inner thigh, lightly caressing her soft, sensitive skin with kisses while my fingers spread her pussy, revealing her glistening clit. I practically shiver with excitement as I move my kisses closer. Beneath me, she attempts to wiggle me closer, to bring her arousal to my mouth, so I press my hand to her stomach, holding her in place.
“Wyatt,” she groans in frustration.
I pause and look up at the combination of distress and anticipation in her eyes. “You want my tongue, baby?”
“Yes, badly.”
“You’ll have to wait,” I say as I torturously run the tip of my tongue over her pubic bone and along the juncture of her thighs, getting close but never close enough.
