I shake my head. "No. I want to feel you. And I'm on the pill. For cramps," I add.
"Then straddle me."
I do, and though it's still almost pitch dark, I can see the heat on his face as I look in his eyes. His cock is as hard as steel, and I rub against it, moaning a bit because that's ultimately unsatisfying--I want him inside me.
He's teasing us both, I know, and I can tell when he can't take it anymore either. He reaches between us, puts the tip of his cock at my core, and tells me to lower myself.
I comply, moving slowly and gently. But then he takes my hips and pushes me down even as he thrusts his hips up, so that he's deep inside me and I cry out in surprise at the pleasure of being so thoroughly filled.
He cups my breasts, pulling me close so that he can tease my nipple with his tongue as he uses one hand on my hips to lift me up and down on his cock.
It's as if I'm on sensory overload, and a wild pressure builds inside of me, higher and harder and fuller, until the pressure has no way to escape and it finally bursts out of me in a wash of sparks and colors.
I collapse forward, clinging to him as he thrusts inside me again and again. Then I feel his body stiffen and hear his low, rough moan as he explodes inside me.
"Oh, baby," he says as he pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me.
We sit like that for a bit, merely breathing, then he picks me up and carries me to the Murphy bed. He uses a tissue to clean me up, then slides in next to me, the cool sheets heaven against my warm body.
He pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. Then he whispers, "I'm very glad you're doing the show, Kelsey Draper."
And the last thing I think before I drift off is, Me, too.
Wyatt may be happy with yesterday's shoot, but today is a billion percent better as far as I'm concerned. "You could have just told me," I complain while his hands ease slowly up my inner thighs, spreading my legs until I'm splayed across a straight back chair at exactly the angle he wants me.
Wyatt only smiles. We both know he's right. I had to go after what I wanted.
And what I wanted--what I want--is Wyatt.
"Arms behind the chair," he orders, and I comply, grabbing my wrists behind the chair as I tilt my chin up and look to one side as he told me to earlier. My legs are so wide it's almost painful, and I'm completely naked.
Completely. Freaking. Naked.
Well, except for the extra long string of pearls that is wrapped twice around my neck to form a collar, then dangles down between my legs to pool on the wooden chair seat. The pearls provide absolutely zero in the way of modesty, but the feel of them against my skin is undeniably erotic.
Wyatt circles me, examining me critically. "Perfect," he finally says, then lifts the camera and starts to shoot. "That's it. Now tilt your head and bite your lip--fuck, Kelsey. That's it. That one's going to be magic."
His words caress me as intimately as a hand. And though somewhere in the back of my mind I hear my father telling me that I'm a nasty, dirty girl who's going to get what she deserves and bring doom down upon the planet, right now, all I feel is power and heat, passion and desire.
The Kelsey who would have run screaming from this situation is nowhere to be seen. Instead, I'm reveling. My body hot, tingling. There's something so delicious about being seen through the camera. About knowing this moment--this passion--is captured on film.
And, of course, about knowing that when Wyatt puts the camera down, he'll pull me into his arms.
I feel brave and bold. More than that, I feel like I've finally grown up. That I've shed the fears of my childhood. And there's no way that I ever could have managed that if it weren't for Wyatt and the intimacy we shared last night.
Wyatt.
How the heck had I survived the last twelve years without him? This man who'd uncovered a part of me I'd buried so very long ago.
"Beautiful," Wyatt murmurs, finally setting his camera on a nearby table.
"So I can move now?"
He flashes a wicked grin. "Not just yet," he says, then kneels in front of me.
"Wyatt . . ."
Now that he's no longer looking at me through a lens, I feel exposed and suddenly shy. Which, of course, is absolutely ridiculous.