Must Be Wright (The Wrights 3)

“It’s the name of a song I just finished.” He kissed her. “A song inspired by you.”

Gypsy’s heart danced inside her chest. She didn’t have the words to respond, but Wyatt didn’t seem to notice. He took the condom from her hand and ripped the packaging with his teeth.

Gypsy took the condom from the packaging and reached between them to stroke his erection. “Now who’s impatient?”

“Most definitely me.” Wyatt pulled her into a kiss that obliterated all thought.

She rubbed the head of his cock through her wetness, and a guttural sound rolled from his throat before his hips rocked forward. He pushed into her, slow and patient, stealing her breath. And little by little, she took him completely.

He exhaled hard. “Fuck, Gyp… You’re so…”

“So what?”

“You’re so…small.”

“Love me the way you want to. I promise I won’t break.” She slid a hand around the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers. She licked into his mouth, kissing him deep and wet. “This is your chance, Rockstar. Show me how much you want me.”

Something shifted in his expression, and he suddenly looked intense. Serious. Fierce.

His thrusts were slow and deep, but not everything she needed. Not everything she knew he had to give.

With her gaze holding his, Gypsy gripped his ass and dug her nails in, then lifted into his thrust. A look of ecstasy washed over his face. His lids fluttered. His jaw rolled. But he kept his moves measured and slow. Pleasure layered inside her, lifting her toward orgasm far sooner than she expected.

She lost herself in the moment, meeting Wyatt thrust for thrust. Too quickly, the pleasure peaked, broke, washed over her. She heard her own cries in her ears. Wyatt’s lusty growls of pleasure.

But when she floated back to earth and opened her eyes to the stars painting the sky, Wyatt was still deep inside her, and he was still hard. His face was pressed against her throat, his breath quick and raspy. Every muscle remained tight, one hand still fisted in her hair, the other gripping her ass, holding her against him.

“Jesus,” he murmured against her skin. “You blow my fucking mind.”

“I think…that’s my line.”

His hips rocked, and he slid easily inside her. “You ready for another?”

She thought about the words a second, but couldn’t get her mind to understand them. “What?”

He lifted his head and looked down at her, his expression serious and lust drenched. “Not sure I can hold out for more than one”—his lips lifted in a lopsided smile—“but I’ll give it the old college try.”

Gypsy laughed softly. “Oh, dude, you’ve already proven your rock star status. I’m lucky if I get one, and I don’t think it’s ever come that fast.” She combed her hand through his hair. “Let’s just get the same for you.”

A slow smile crept over his face. “Well, now, you’ve just stoked my competitive spirit, sugar.”

She laughed. Her heart felt light, her chest loose, her body satisfied in a way she hadn’t felt in longer than she could remember. Then he started to move again, and pleasure drifted through her, shoulders to toes.

He pushed up and rested on his forearm. With the other, he reached overhead. Gypsy tilted her head to look back and was surprised to find his hand gripping the steel edge of the truck bed and the cab. She had no idea they’d moved that far. And the sight of his corded forearm overhead trilled excitement into the pit of her stomach.

Wyatt added power to his thrust, determination in his gaze, and hunger in his kiss. Gypsy’s body rocked with the force of each thrust, stealing her breath.

Almost immediately, his hand slipped from her hair to the back of her neck, gripping hard to keep her body from sliding toward the cab. Sweat slicked their skin, and Wyatt’s hand slipped. His next thrust shoved her toward the cab. Gypsy reached overhead and planted a hand against the wall of the bed, alongside Wyatt’s. He wrapped his free arm low on Gypsy’s waist, bracing her hips against his forearm. The move tilted her pelvis up, making his body connect with hers in a slightly different, but even better place.

“Oh shit,” she murmured just as an orgasm came out of nowhere and rocketed through her. It hit harder than the first. A wicked peak that made a sound of surprise rip from her throat, but never had a chance to fade, because Wyatt was on a fucking mission.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” he murmured, his gaze latching onto hers. “Ride the waves, sugar.”

Sweat dripped off his chin, hit her chest, and slid between her breasts. Their bodies met with the hard slap of wet flesh. Her body rocked with each hit, creating a double tap of pleasure, once on the initial thrust, then again when her body rebounded against the force.

“Oh my G—”

Another orgasm splintered through her, deeper and richer than the last.