Stay with Me (With Me in Seattle 9)

“Wyatt.”

“Yes, baby.”

“I’m gonna need you to—” I gasp when he drags two fingers down my torso, over my pubis, and through my slick folds.

“What?”

“I don’t remember.”

He chuckles. “Say it.”

“I need you.” I hear the whimper in my voice but don’t have enough wits about me to care. “Inside me.”

“In here?” he asks, pushing his fingers into me, stretching me deliciously.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Does that feel good, beautiful?” He plucks my nipple with his lips, making a smacking sound as he fucks me with his fingers, still pinning my wrists with his other hand. I feel the tension building.

“Jesus, I’m going to come.”

“I certainly hope so.” He presses his thumb to my clit, and it’s all I need to fall over the edge.

He kisses me deeply, still fondling me lightly, and when my body calms, he reaches for the box of condoms, suits up, and guides himself inside me.

But rather than taking me fast and hard, which I’m expecting, he takes long, slow strokes as if his dick is memorizing every inch of my pussy.

He brushes the pad of his thumb over my lower lip, watching me intently.

I squeeze and watch in satisfaction when his eyes close, and he loses control, coming around me and in me.

He buries his face in my neck, breathing hard, still shivering.

“Incredible,” he whispers before he moves off of me, and shifts to my side, pulling me to him.

I let my eyes close, just intending to rest, but fall into sleep, listening to Wyatt’s heartbeat against my ear.

Someone is doing marvelous things to my back.

I’m coming out of sleep and realize that I’m on my stomach. Naked.

I’m on my stomach naked.

I fling my eyes open and look over my shoulder at Wyatt, who’s braced over me, kissing my shoulders.

And my ass is naked.

With the lights on.

I move to turn over, but he calmly holds me in place and continues his kissing spree.

“I think these shoulders are so damn sexy.” His tongue travels from one side to the other. “Firm, but feminine. And the way the muscles curve in to your spine is hot.”

“I have a bony back,” I reply, still tense. Vinnie used to tell me all the time that for a skinny girl, I sure had the fattest ass out there. I’ve mastered the art of camouflage with clothes. I make sure I have sex on my back, or in the dark.

And now I don’t have any of that armor on me, and I might have the first panic attack of my life.

“Wyatt—”

“Shh. Did you know that you have two perfect little dimples right over your ass?”

Fuck. Yes, and cellulite for days, if the truth be known.

“You’re safe here,” he says quietly, and tears immediately spring to my eyes. He kisses just above my ass crack, then sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of my left cheek. I bite my lip, suddenly incredibly turned on, but still self-conscious.

“Wyatt, I appreciate you wanting to make me feel—”

“Sexy? Desired? Hotter than fuck? Because that’s what you are. I can tell that you have issues with this part of your body.” His hands slowly move up and down over my cheeks, massaging firmly. “I don’t know why, and I probably don’t want to know why. But I can tell you this. I’ve never seen a woman that I want more in all of my life, Amelia. Your ass is heart-shaped, and the perfect size for my hands.”

I grip my pillow when his fingertips move inside my upper thighs, gently brushing over my swollen lips. Dear God, every time he does this, I’m convinced that I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

This is no exception.

But this time, I’m not just turned on, I’m self-conscious and trying really hard to let go of that.

It’s not easy.

“And it leads to the most amazing pussy,” he whispers, pressing a wet kiss to where my ass meets my thigh. He braces his forehead on my butt and sighs deeply. “I want to sink inside you so badly right now, but we used the last condom earlier.”

“Oh, I’ve been on the pill for years,” I assure him, needing to feel him inside me again. “I can’t get pregnant.”

“Amelia.”

I turn to look at him and see so much in his eyes. Affection. Lust. Trust.

It’s the trust that makes my heart stutter because by God, I trust him, too.

“You can trust me,” he says.

“I know.” I bite my lip, take a deep breath, and brace on my knees, pushing my ass in the air.

“Jesus,” he mutters before sliding inside me, making us both sigh in pleasure. “I just . . . fuck, Amelia.”

“So damn good,” I agree with a smile.

~Wyatt~

I didn’t plan to fall in love again. No fucking way. Not that I planned to be celibate for the rest of my life either. That would just suck.

But amicable, physical relationships were all that appealed to me.

Until Amelia.

I’m not saying I’m in love with her. I don’t know that yet. But I do know that I’m taken with her. I want to be with her, and when I’m not, my mind wanders to her. She’s been bad for my productivity at work.

But she’s the best thing that has happened to me in a long, long time.

I’m on my side, my head propped in my hand, watching her sleep. The early morning sunshine is coming through the window, lighting up the room. Her lips are parted slightly as she dreams.

I swear to Jesus, I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman than Amelia in my life. Not just because she’s physically stunning, but because of who she is.

Honest.

Funny as hell.

She loves her family.

And she’s vulnerable while being incredibly strong. I’ve known that she has a hang-up about her ass. Flipping over every time I want to take her from behind isn’t exactly hiding it. I’d like to deck the bastard that ever dared to make her feel less than amazing.

But, she’s mine now. And I intend to make her feel safe every damn day.

She turns toward me and rests her hand on my hip, then buries her face in the pillow and goes back to sleep. I can see her phone behind her on the bedside table. It’s on silent, but it keeps lighting up with notifications. It’s been doing that all damn night.

The woman needs a break from work.

I kiss her forehead and ease out of bed, careful not to wake her. I pull on last night’s clothes, then hurry across the street to my house and change.

Maybe we both need a break from work this weekend. Nothing crazy, but something to get us out of the house and away from our desks. I prop my hands on my waist, look blindly around the room, thinking. Then the sunlight on the Sound catches my eye, and an idea takes root.

I hurry to the closet and pack a bag for a couple of days. Then I hurry down and load it into my car, glancing over at Amelia’s house. No movement yet.

I’d like to be the one to wake her this morning.

So I hurry down the street to a café and order us both coffees and pastries, and then rush into a small grocery store for waters and snacks.

I pull into her driveway and walk into her house, stopping to listen.

No movement.

She’s still in bed when I walk into her bedroom, on her belly now, hugging the pillow and snoozing away. I set our coffees on the table next to her and climb onto the bed.

“Amelia,” I whisper into her ear. She wiggles her nose.