by Chloe Lang
She looked up into his eyes. “How did I do?”
“You knock me out, Charly. You did great.” He pulled her up off the floor and into his arms. With her legs dangling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying his hold on her. Then he feathered his lips against hers.
It was so natural to surrender fully to his kiss, so perfect.
“Okay, so I think we’ve wasted enough water. Let’s take that shower, now.”
“Yes, boss.”
“How about you trying ‘Sir’ on for size?”
She smiled and closed her eyes. “Yes, Sir.”
Without a word, he took two steps, and they were in the shower together. She opened her eyes as he set her on her feet on the tiled floor. The warm water poured from the showerhead, heating her skin until it became a dark shade of pink. She looked back into Heath’s eyes. Her mind manufactured a white picket fence around a big yard and a white house. Silly, for sure, but still her imagination painted more impossible dressings to the fantasy—two yellow Labs, a swing on the porch, and even a couple of kids. What was it about him that made her feel so feminine, blissful, and safe? Everything, of course. But this isn’t real. It can’t be. My future is in Malibu, not Wilde.
“Where did you go, Charly?” His sexy voice pulled her from her musings and ignited her nerve endings anew.
“Just daydreaming, cowboy. That’s all.” Thinking about how easy it was to give herself to him totally moved her to tears. She tried to hide them from him, but he placed his hand under her chin, making her face him directly.
“Something wrong?” He sounded honestly concerned.
“No. You’ve been awesome.”
“There’s more to come, honey. Much more.”
He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. His demanding tongue swept into her mouth and deepened the kiss. Sensations akin to electricity zoomed over her skin. With just the touch of his lips, he’d calmed her mind and worry. All that remained was desire that reached down into her very core and made her pussy clench and her body burn.
Heath’s fingers moved over her body, arousing her to beyond crazy. As his touches skated up and down her sides, she couldn’t help but moan into his nearly never-ending kiss. His lips pressed harder, more demanding, more urgent. His cock was rock solid and ready, pressing against her skin.
“Mmm.” Trying not to moan would’ve been impossible. Tingles spread from her pussy, and her clit began to throb.
When Heath ended the kiss, Charly had to hold on to him, fearing she might fall to the shower floor with her very-weakened knees.
“Okay, I think it is way past time I get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” He moved behind her, positioning her directly in front of the water shooting from the showerhead. As the warm water hit her chest, she moaned again. The streams of liquid hit her nipples, making them throb almost painfully.
Heath pressed his front to her backside. “Lean in. I’m going to wash your hair first. Get it really wet and soaked for me.”
She obeyed, knowing her pussy was already complying with his request. Again, she felt his dick on her skin, but now it pressed against the small of her back. She had the strangest urge to stand on her tippy-toes, but she didn’t, though the feel of his cock on her ass would’ve been even nicer.
Charly leaned in and let her hair get completely saturated. The scent of the fresh water and the hotel’s scented shampoo mingled together creating an olfactory delight. Longing coiled from her mouth, breasts, belly, thighs, and even down to her pussy. Everything was on fire inside her, and the need to have his cock in her body was maddening.
Heath combed her locks with his soapy fingers. “That feel good, honey?”
“Uh-huh.”
He took his time with her hair, massaging her scalp. “Okay, let’s rinse your hair now. Lean in again.”
She did, and he worked all the shampoo out of her hair.
He stroked her hair, making her dizzy and hot. “Perfect. That’s done. Now, let’s lather up that sexy body of yours and get you nice and clean.”
Charly squeezed her thighs together as the longing and ache grew in her pussy.
Heath unwrapped the bar of soap provided by the hotel. Using only his hand, no cloth, he washed her breasts, moving the bar over her nipples until they were jutting out and throbbing. When he clamped his teeth onto her earlobe during the washing, Charly’s heartbeat raced. She could still feel his cock at her lower back. A wonderful dizziness took hold of her as Heath continued to knead her chest with his left hand, and with the other, he lathered up her belly.
Heath released her ear and then licked her neck. “You’re so smooth, honey.” His voice deepened, filled with what sounded to her like expanding lust.
Need tugged deep inside her, and without thought, she moved her fingers down to her pussy. “Ohh.” She pressed on her clit, imagining how incredible it would be to have his cock inside her pussy.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. Enjoy.”
Heath tweaked her nipple, and she melted her back into his front. Every inch of her vibrated and burned. Her pussy was soaked, not from the steamy water, but from her own juices. If he didn’t take her soon, she’d go completely mad.
Using his fingers, he soaped up every inch of her upper body—neck, shoulders, back, arms, and sides. His hands became more than just vehicles for cleanliness. They were instruments of massage that released every bit of tension inside her.
“Feels so good, cowboy,” she breathed.
“Wait until I wash your pretty little pussy and sweet, perky ass. In fact, let’s do that now.”
Giddy with anxious desire, she nodded.
He turned the spray of the shower to a lower flow. “Turn around for me, sweetheart.”
She obeyed and shivered when she looked into his eyes and saw a hunger that almost frightened her—almost.
His gaze moved up and down her body until settling back again on her eyes. “You’re quite the package, Charly.”
Heath knelt down and began working on her lower half. He started with her legs, sliding up and down, from thigh to calf and back again.
“Wow. A woman could get used to this, cowboy.”
“That’s what I’m banking on, sweetheart. Lift your right foot just a bit for me.”
“My feet can be pretty ticklish, Heath.”
“Trust me.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it. Keep your balance.”
“Easier said than done. You’ve got my head spinning.”
He looked up at her, holding on to her foot, and grinned. “Then I have you exactly where I want you.”
As he gently massaged her foot, Charly’s want rose even higher. She’d never thought of her feet as erogenous, but somehow he was able to turn them into virtual heat generators. He guided her right foot under the spray and rinsed it. Then he swallowed her toes in his mouth. Her clit throbbed, and her body shook.
“You’ve got the prettiest feet I’ve ever seen in my life, honey.” He guided her right foot back to the tile. “Lift your left foot for me now.”
He worked on her left foot exactly as he’d done on her right, until Charly wasn’t sure she could stand on her own much longer. Thankfully, he stood up and steadied her with his arms. He moved her under the spray until all her skin was free of soap.
“Turn back around, honey.”
When she did, he spread her buttocks with his hands. Need ripped her insides. “I can’t take much more of this teasing.”
“That’s what I like to hear, but I know you can—and will.” He knelt down behind her.
When his tongue laved her backside’s tight ring, currents of desire shot up from deep inside her. She shoved her fingers to her throbbing clit and puffy folds. She was wet and turned on to the edge of sanity. Her control fled, and her wildness swelled.
Heath worked on her ass with his tongue, making her shake from head to toe. She was thrashing her pussy with her hands, unable to hold back.
“You’re clos
e, sweetheart?”
“Y–Yes…I’m…so close.”
“Good. Go for it.”
“But I want you inside me, Heath. I need it.”
“There’s a little bit of a vixen in you.” He laughed. “Your pleasure is my command.”
As Heath rose to his feet, his hands moved up her body. He reached for the condoms and lube on the caddy. She heard the cap of the bottle pop open, then felt him circle her backside entrance with a lubricated finger. Ripples of need rolled through her body.
“Breathe, honey.”
She tried to obey but could only pant.
He stretched her ass with a plunging finger. With his other hand, he reached around and tweaked her nipple.
“You still want me inside your tight ass, sweetheart?”
“Please. I need…”
“Yes, you do, and I’m going to give you what will satisfy you, honey. I can’t wait to feel your tight ass around my dick.” His voice rumbled like a storm, causing her to get even wetter, if that was even possible.
He removed his hand from her chest, and then she heard the ripping of a foil condom package behind her. She felt his sheathed dick nestle between her ass cheeks. The tip of his cock pressed on the tight entrance of her backside.
Without a word, Heath thrust into her with his dick. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to yell. The sting turned quickly into sensations that spread to every cell in her body. Heath held her by the hips as he pounded in and out of her ass.
“You are fucking tight. You like my dick inside your pretty ass, little vixen?”
“Y–Yes…I…love it.”
His thrusts sped up, and he growled. She was lost and loving the moment, the sex—him!
“Now!” he yelled.
“God!” Charly screamed as the waves of her climax shot throughout her.
She thrashed back into him like a wild woman. His cock filled her beyond what she thought possible. Her legs began to weaken, so to keep her balance, she shot her hands in front of her to the shower’s tiled wall.
Heath’s body crashed against her back, and she felt him bite down on her neck.
He came, breathing a single, extended syllable. “Fuck.”
They moved, their bodies melding together as if they'd become a single entity—an all consuming bundle of passion. In that moment, she was connected to Heath in all the ways that mattered. As her womb continued clenching and releasing, she leaned back into his muscled frame. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, relishing the strong sensations firing in her body.
Her head was spinning, and she had no sense of time or space, though a part of her was aware that Heath had hoisted her up into his arms.
When she finally did open her eyes and the world came into a clearer focus, she was under the covers on the bed with Heath’s arms and legs wrapped completely around her from behind. She wiggled gently against his naked flesh. His lovemaking had been so amazing and giving. There was much more to the man than she’d first thought. Much more.
He kissed the back of her neck. In a very low tone, barely audible, he whispered, “You’re mine, Charly Wynn.”
She tensed. “What?”
“I thought you were asleep.” He interlaced her locks with his fingers, soothing her sudden alarm. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“But you did. What do you mean that I’m yours?”
“Shh, sweetheart. Everything is going to be fine. Don’t fret about a thing. We’re both exhausted and need some sleep.”
That’s true. Perhaps I didn’t hear him right. “Okay. I am so tired.”
Again, he kissed her neck. Then he squeezed her with his arms and legs, pulling her body into his even tighter. “No alarm clock in the morning. We’ll get up when we wake up.”
“Sounds perfect to me, cowboy.” What if he does think of me as something permanent in his life? What then?
But before she could come up with any logical answers, Charly drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Six
Sitting alone in his hotel room, the man looked down at the pictures he’d placed on the bed. One thing common to all of them, though there were some with several people in the shots, was they included an image of one particular person—Charly Wynn.
Most of the photos were of her when she was a child. One was from her sixteenth birthday. Another was of her next to her cousin, Jessie. There were many more he’d viewed and arranged in order of her age in each picture.
The one he held in his hand was of Charly in a cap and gown. The image was from the day she received her college degree. She looked stunning and almost happy, though in the photo she stood with only one parent, her mother, instead of two.
A knock on the door startled him. “Who the bloody hell could that be?”
He placed the last photo next to the others, and grabbed his gun—a total “no-no” under the terms of his parole. Then he opened the door tentatively, keeping the chain attached.
“Yes?” The man on the other side of the door looked to be in his late twenties. He wore a long, black overcoat.
“I apologize for the late hour, but I’m here to find Mr. Charles Wynn. Is that you, sir?” The kid had a thick English accent.
“Who wants to know?” his own accent had been muddied by years of life in America and, to an even greater degree, by his time in prison.
The young man’s eyes, a mirror image of his own, opened wide. “I’m his son, Preston.”
His jaw dropped. “I don’t have a son.”
“Mr. Wynn, you do. Gayle Cromwell is my mother. Do you remember her?”
Of course he did. Gayle was the girl he’d fallen for at his first year at university. The kid might just be telling the truth.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
The time worked out. “How did you find me, Preston?”
“I’m resourceful, sir.”
“I guess you are.” His head reeled. He’d always thought Charly was his only child. Now he was learning he had a son, and that bit of information might change everything he’d planned. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The man on the other side shook his head. “I have some news about my grandparents, your parents.”
“So you came all the way from England just to deliver some message from people that disowned me long ago?”
Preston shrugged. “They were good to me, Mr. Wynn.”
“Really? I would’ve loved to see the look on their faces when you showed up.” A bastard showing up to the manor would’ve sent his father into the stratosphere.
“I found them seven months ago. They were surprised at first, but opened their hearts to me very quickly.”
Clearly, the kid had forged a relationship with his biological grandparents, Charles’s own flesh-and-blood parents. “How’s my father holding up?”
“He died three months ago, sir.”
He let that bit of information sink in. “And my mother?”
“Ten days ago she died. I think her heart broke, Mr. Wynn.”
It had been many years since the old bastard had disowned him and his mother had done nothing. In prison, he’d wondered if his parents were still alive. He should’ve been happy that the asshole was dead, but he wasn’t.
He didn’t need the complication of another child to disappoint. “Well, is that it?”
“No. May I come in?”
He’d run out on the boy’s mother, rather than face her penniless. What would the kid think of him if he learned that little tidbit? Or about his time in prison? Or about having a sister? “Why should I let you in, Preston?”
“You’re my father.”
“Who didn’t know you existed until five minutes ago.” He hated to be so harsh with the lad, but he had been one sorry excuse for a dad with Charly already. He didn’t have any desire to fuck up another life.
“Your parents put you back in the will about ten years ago, Mr. Wynn.”
That was more shocking to him than lear
ning he had a twenty-eight-year-old son. “Well, I suppose you can come in, Preston. Apparently, I do need to hear all you know.”
* * * *
Charly looked at her tangled hair reflected in the mirror. Heath had left her alone a little bit ago to fuel up his car for the trip back to Wilde. She expected him back in less than fifteen minutes, not enough time to try to fix the mess she saw in the glass.
“He’ll just have to wait if he gets back sooner,” she said aloud.
She took her toothbrush and paste out of her overnight bag. Only ten seconds into brushing her teeth, her cell phone buzzed in the next room. She wasn’t about to try to answer it with foam spewing from her mouth.
It buzzed again. But she finished brushing her teeth.
As she rinsed her mouth, the third and final buzz came from her phone.
Charly knew it would go to voice mail after that, and she could call them back. Right now, she wanted to try to look at least halfway human.
After about twenty minutes, she was satisfied enough with the result. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her face looked better for the makeup she’d put on. Her outfit, jeans and a light-blue sweater, actually worked well with her full figure. All in all, she was pleased.
Her phone buzzed again. Same person? She walked out of the bathroom and picked up her phone from the nightstand. Her heart sank.
The caller was Drake, Heath’s brother and the man she’d slept with only a couple of nights earlier.
Guilt crawled up and down her spine. But why should I feel guilty? There’s no commitment between me and Drake.
“Hello.”
“Charly, put Heath on the phone, now.” Drake’s anger was evident immediately to her.
“He’s not here.”
“Bullshit! I know you’re with him. Put him on, and I mean now!”
Her guilt evaporated and was replaced by rising ire. “Cool it, Drake. I don’t like your tone.”
“And I don’t like that you went to Malibu with my brother, but we are far from even, Charly. Now, put him on.”
“I. Told. You. He. Is. Not. Here.” So much for not foaming at the mouth. Indignant, she asked, “Shall I spell it out for you, cowboy?”
