“Prom is a big deal for a lot of girls,” Wyatt comments, leaning back in his chair. “Is there a reason you’re not going?”
I swirl the noodles around on my fork and then set it aside and take a small sip of wine.
“I don’t know. It just feels pointless now. Like being prom queen was something everyone else expected of me. I don’t know if I could enjoy it.”
Wyatt is quiet and grabs his whiskey. His long forearm is relaxed on the back of the chair and the glass rests in his hand. I wonder if he poses like this just to fluster me. His tight gray shirt bunches over his firm abdominal muscles, and I imagine licking every ridge of his taut stomach, tasting the salt of his work day, working my way down until I take his cock into my mouth and he forces himself down my throat. I bite my lip, my imagination running wild. I don’t think he realizes where my thoughts are.
“You know it’s okay for you to still want it. It doesn’t mean you’re letting them win. If being prom queen is something you were looking forward to, you shouldn’t deprive yourself.”
I take a deep, clarifying breath. He’s right. As always.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him, giving him a pointed look.
I catch him looking at my outfit again, and I can’t hold back the giggle that racks through me. I hang on to my chair, enjoying the buzzed feeling the whiskey, and now wine, has given me.
“Is something funny?” He asks me, quite serious.
My giggles subside, and I lay a hand over my mouth. I wish he would just fuck me already. I’m nervous now, wondering if he’s imagining what life would be like with me as his wife. What if he doesn’t like the thought of it? What if he’s sick of me? What if he thinks it’s cute, like a little girl trying to bake cookies for her dad? The entire night that I’d had planned is becoming embarrassing and my stomach rolls with pangs of anxiety.
I think no matter what we do or say, there’s an unspoken question as to what our relationship truly is.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Wyatt asks, painfully serious. He leans forward, apparently intent upon sucking my soul out.
“Oh no. Fine. Just peachy,” I say, my voice coming out in tight ribbons.
“You know that was a joke, right?” He says, taking another sip of his whiskey as he ponders me. “The wife thing. I know it’s not like that.”
“Yeah?” I laugh again, this time standing up and slamming my hands on the table. “Then what is this like? Am I your friend? Friends with benefits? Girlfriend? Sugar baby?”
Wyatt tucks a smirk back under his carefully constructed expression. But if I know him the way I think I do, I know he’s trying to hold back smooth amusement.
“Hm,” he makes a noise, clearly ignoring the fact that I’ve shown him aggression for the first time. “Is this our first fight?”
I can’t believe the audacity of him. Fire thunders through me, and I let out a breath I seem to have been holding.
“You’re ignoring the question,” I snap.
“No,” he slides his gaze over me again. “I’m just trying to figure out why this bothers you so much.”
“Why would it not bother me?” I roll my eyes, giving him the ultimate sass. “We’ve been practically living together for months and I don’t even know what to call us.”
Wyatt’s jaw tightens and he looks down. The dark flash in his eyes tells me I’m pushing the limit, but I enjoy pushing him to the edge. That much I know. That much I’ve realized. Especially because I know his anger is safe, and I have the ability to submit to everything he does and says without fear in any part of the equation. He makes me so horny the way he sits there completely and utterly in control as I spin wildly.
“Why don’t you watch that pretty mouth of yours,” Wyatt suggests with a chilly tone.
“Why don’t you answer me? You’re the one who said we weren’t going to just fuck and ignore reality,” I jab.
Wyatt stands slowly, methodically, and my eyes can’t help but go to the bulge in his dark jeans. Good lord he’s the entire package; sexy, dominant, and devoted. I peer up into his salient hazel eyes, and I lick my lower lip. Except, he doesn’t show his caring side to everyone. Just to me. The fact that I’m his weakness makes every interaction that much more delicious.
“We won’t,” he says confidently, drinking the last of his whiskey and shaking the glass. “More.”
I huff and go to snatch the whiskey bottle from the counter. The weight of his gaze singes me as I walk.
Coming back around, I stand just before him, looking up and pouring. He meets my eyes with the same carnal force, and his mouth curls at the edge.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Oh yeah. You’re welcome,” I say sarcastically.
Wyatt reaches out for me but I dodge his hold. I see a fleeting slip of anger cross his face, and I step back. He steps forward, and I mirror him in the opposite direction.
“Sav,” he chastises me. “You know when I catch you you’re going to be punished, right?”
I hold back an excited smile and try to hang on to my frustration.
“You could just answer the question and then I’d come willingly,” I say, pouting sensually.
Wyatt stifles a groan and then steps forward again, and I run. In my haste I slip and then clamber upright, steadying myself as I throttle down the hall. I hear his heavy footsteps and throw myself into the darkness of the walk in closet in our bedroom. I don’t care if he thinks I’m being immature. I’m both aching with anger and burning with need, and if he won’t answer the question I won’t let him touch me.
“Savannah,” he calls.
He comes swinging around the doorway into the darkness and grabs me. I fight against him but he gathers me up in his arms and pulls me out, hauling me across the cream carpets up onto the bed.
Wyatt forces me down onto my stomach and props my knees up so that my ass is in the air. I try to kick and smack at him, but his hold is constricting. He says nothing as he uses one hand to flip up the edge of my skirt. His hand cups my ass cheek, and I still. I lose my breath. I need this so badly I can hardly stand it, and with that single touch I know that desire has won and anger has lost.
“You can’t possibly think you’d hide from me in there,” he says on a husky breath, and chuckles.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Ready for your punishment, honey?” He asks, gently caressing my ass with his fingers.
“No.” I flip over and try to shove him off, but he immediately pins me down by my wrists and rubs his cock against my thigh.
“God you’re being so bad tonight,” he snickers and then kisses along my neck. “Maybe I should fill those pretty lips first.”
I take a deep breath, my pussy slick with want.
Wyatt eases himself up and carefully pins my arms down with his knees so that his crotch is directly over my face. I look away and he grabs my chin and uses two fingers to open my mouth, forcing them in and out roughly.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, and unzips his jeans, allowing his thick member to fall out and meet my face. He drags his cock over my cheeks and I search for it with my lips, closing my eyes as I open up for him.
“Wyatt…” I breathe his name just as he allows me to find the tip of him.
“Suck,” he commands.
I suck just the tip of him, licking around the rim, gliding my tongue and lips over the sensitive slit at the top, trying to take more of him as I moan, being sloppy, enjoying every minute he pins me here and forces me to take him.
He begins to dip down into me and I attempt to accommodate, my entire body pulsing with excitement. My pussy is dripping, my panties sticking to my crease as I use the limited mobility I have to suck and bob against his length.
“God,” he mutters as he forces himself deeper, fucking my face in sharp thrusts now, forcing me to gag. He likes it when I gag. He’s into all sorts of dirty shit. But I’ve quickly found that I’m right there with him
. Delighting in every last drop of his darkness.
I can hardly breathe as he continues, and I gasp and gargle against his cock. Wyatt pulls out quickly and suddenly I feel his cum spurting out on my face and lips. I drag in hard breaths and smile, shutting my eyes again as I lick my lips.
“Done?” I ask snarkily as he lifts off of my arms and heads for the bathroom. My core is quaking with desire, and I’m so needy for it that I let my fingers tumble down over the thin strip of white fabric beneath the skirt that is covering my pussy. I rub, teasing myself.
Wyatt comes back out, stark naked. I drink in the sight of his body, the tight narrowing of his waist, the broad muscles of his chest and shoulders, his long lean legs, and the semi-hard cock at the base of his crotch.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he tells me firmly and stands back to watch me for a moment.
He makes a sound of approval.
“You want to come, don’t you honey?” He rasps, and I slip one finger down the crease of my pussy over the fabric, high on the sensations.
“Yes, please”
“You’re going to have to wait,” he tells me and rolls me over again. I bite the inside of my cheek as he tugs my ass up into the air once more. This time, I comply. I’d let him do anything to me. I want to be anything he needs.
He leans down and strokes his fingers over the fabric covering my cunt and then leans down and kisses me.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to see you like this?” He growls and then slaps my ass lightly. We’ve played this out before. The brattiness, the punishment, the reward for us both at the end. I crave the sting of his hand.
“Mhm,” I affirm, my voice humming with need.
“You’re too fucking good to me,” he says as he brings his full hand down on my ass again. I yelp but stay in position, the sharp pain shooting vibrations of pleasure through my flesh. “But also fucking naughty, aren’t you?”
I gasp as he slaps the other cheek. He drags his fingers over the stinging skin and then smacks it again. Each connection of his hand to my ass makes me shake with pain and want. I’m dripping for him.
“Wyatt…” his name squeezes from my lips as he spanks me again, and again when he continues.
“Please, Wyatt, please.”
I’m nearly begging now, and he bends over and begins to kiss the swells of my ass where he’s reddened me. Marked me. He suckles the skin and bites me softly, and I writhe against him, wishing he was sucking and biting my clit.
“Did you want something?” He asks pleasantly as he hooks his fingers under the elastic waistband of my skirt. “Let’s look and see.”
He pulls the skirt down halfway so part of me is bare to him. He sucks in a breath and I hear a deep noise of approval building in his throat.
“Oh honey, you’re so wet. Do you like it when I slap your ass like that?”
He slaps me lightly, watching as I jerk forward reflexively but return to my place. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
When he turns me over onto my back, this time it is with careful movements. He helps me out of my top and when my breasts are free, he uses his fingers to knead and roll my nipples. I arch my back for him, desperate for his touch. Every hard pinch sends tendrils of pleasure shooting down to my clit, making me shudder with unbridled desire.
“Oh…” I gasp.
“Yeah,” he growls and leans forward, kissing my lips. “Now you want to be good for daddy?”
I nod frantically and bite my lip.
“I’ll be so good.”
He smirks and shirks my skirt down fully, tossing it across the room.
“You know what? Now I’m thinking it wasn’t so much the cheer outfit than it was you. I just wanted you…” he lifts my legs up over his shoulders and presses down so that his cock is against my entrance. “You, here. Open. Spread for me.” He jams himself inside me and I hold back a scream, my hand flying to my lips.
“I wanted you, always.”
The pressure of his cock fills me, and I’m writhing against him, whining in desperation as he forces himself as deep as he can go, pulls out, and then does it again. He grabs my hand and pulls it away from my face.
“I wanted to hear those pretty screams coming off your lips,” he whispers through his thrusts. “Wanted to dominate you. Wanted to get perfect little Savannah into fucking pretzels, using her body like a toy for my enjoyment.”
I cry out as he rams me harder than he ever has before, unleashing the wildness inside him. He hammers into me, agile, accelerating so that all I can do is scream for release and listen to the staccato clap of his flesh on mine. I moan as my belly tenses, my core tightening in anticipation of pleasure mounting in my clit.
“Who would have known that you’d like it? Huh?” He growls and slows, pulsing so that is cock rubs every right place inside me.
“Wyatt…” I whimper. My body is in fucking agony.
“We can be whatever the fuck you want,” Wyatt pushes hard again, filling me completely, and I groan and hold my breath, chanting his name under my breath, unable to think of anything other than the pleasure he’s giving me.
“But I want you—“ he impales me once— “Forever. Don’t you ever—” his cock slams into me again—“Ever. Fucking think I’m joking about you being my wife. Because I’d be blessed—" he pounds into me once more—“To get to have you like that.”
My heart glows with love so greedy I think my skin might be green. Wyatt drops my legs to the sides and then pumps into me slower, in passionate rolls of his hips. He allows his pelvis to meet my clit as he buries deep inside me, and I take a deep breath, inhaling everything that he is. I grab hold of his back and let my nails stipple his skin, dragging my touches across his shoulders and lower so that I grab his firm backside as he drives himself into me. We search each other, and finally, I spill over the edge. My body seizes and I grow rigid in his arms as my orgasm crackles through me, a tidal wave of sensation.
“I’m in love with you,” I admit recklessly as sweet spasms nearly cripple me. But I don’t care. I don’t care at all. Because fear of making a fool of myself is something I don’t ever have when I’m in his arms.
Wyatt
The night of Prom, it’s my weekend with Derrick. Savannah has decided to attend with her friends, and Derrick is bringing some mouse-haired bimbo that laughs way too easily at his jokes.
Krista shows up at my house to help Derrick get ready. When he’s alone in the bathroom working on his tie, I find a spot to lean in the door frame and watch him. It’s strange, both hating and loving someone so fiercely. This is my son, and nothing will change that. He’s my blood, and that’s something that will last forever.
I think about the things Savannah said about him, and anger flares in my gut. Rolling in on tides of rage that disgust me. I’ve always assumed Charles would talk to him about girls, but maybe that was just me self-sabotaging. Maybe I should have spoken to him before he became a self-serving prick. Then again, I wasn’t much better as a teen.
“Listen, bud,” I clear my throat, and he glances up at me in the mirror through his floppy mop of blond hair. “I know Prom can be a fun night to experiment with....” I almost strain myself trying to get the words out. “You know. Girls. I just thought I should tell you to treat your date with respect. Open doors for her. Pay for her dinner…” Don’t fucking touch her inappropriately.
“Yeah,” Derrick smiles awkwardly. “I got it, Dad. Mom’s given me the same talk. Wear a condom. Don’t get anyone pregnant.” He tosses the words around way too lightly.
“Don’t treat a girl with disrespect can mean a lot of things,” I grumble, and cross my arms over my chest.
“Yeah, you’d know all about that wouldn’t you, dad?” Derrick says under his breath, taking one last look at himself in the mirror before shouldering past me to the car.
A streak of fury slithers through my gut, and it’s difficult to hold my tongue. If this were a different situation, I’d have be
aten his ass. If it were anyone other than my son. If talking to him about Savannah wouldn’t tip him off to our relationship. If it could feasibly be taken care of. But talking to him about the things I know would reveal everything Savannah and I have struggled to keep hidden. And his anger toward me has always been persistent, lingering there no doubt from shit Krista has said about me.
It’s difficult to ignore the fact that Savannah’s dad is out there still, most likely watching and waiting. Sometimes if I think about it long enough I feel the fire in my veins. The itch to do something about it. We’ve had many conversations about going to the police and her allowing me to send him a message, but it all comes down to one thing. Our situation is too precarious to bring any eyes onto us. Filing assault might be the right thing, but bringing the police around Savannah would no doubt bring questions about her whereabouts and more. Me sending him a message is riskier than the first option, as good as it might feel to do it.
I want to keep her safe, but the ambiguity of our situation is rooted in a land mine of consequences. It’s not safe or practical. One misstep and the entire thing could come crashing down.
As I drive Derrick to his date’s house, I think about the ramifications. There’s a lot to consider. I wish it was simple, and I hate that I think about the what if’s, but I know she does too. She thinks about the sinister days after graduation with the same pang of anxiety. I think about how my choices have affected Derrick so deeply, how ghosts of fuck-ups past are still haunting me. How even now I’m choosing something destructive.
I’m ruining an eighteen-year-old girl's chance at happiness. Taking her innocence in one fell swoop. Putting my entire business on the line. Everything I’ve worked for in this dumb fucking town relies on the Auto Shop’s standing. Not only this, but my son would never forgive me.
A limo has pulled up beside the neat suburban home of Derrick’s date, and he sends me a wave. This is my cue to leave, and Krista also gives me an awkward smile before heading into the house with our son.
I know I’m not wanted now.
***
The Prom Queen's Sinner: Thornwood Small Town Forbidden Romance Book One Page 18
