7:03 PM MST
Thanks to this happy ending, I'm feeling safe and loved with no worries, fears, or concerns. Those things are blanketed by getting everything I wanted with Wyatt, and it's better than Christmas.
This feeling is warm and powerful.
This feeling is joy.
Wyatt feels like the light of my life. Looking over at him as he drives us south, I half-expect his outline to be framed by the sun. Instead I catch him smiling like an idiot, drumming a hand on the steering wheel. I didn't notice during my shock of his surprise visit, but faint red lines carve through his face and remind me of the damage I did when we fought.
He still looks sexy.
"What is it?" he asks, catching me staring even though his eyes haven't left the road (not counting the occasional shoulder-checks to change lanes).
"I'm just happy."
One of Wyatt's hands is on the gear shift because his truck is a manually-operated piece of junk, but he turns his palm over and prompts me to slide mine against his. Together we hold the knob of the stick and I can't even begin to describe the violent ways my heart pounds just touching him.
"I can't wait to get to Nanaimo!" I vibrate in place excitedly at the thought – trying to imagine the coastal island town without actually having been there. "How long will it take?"
"Two days, maybe?" Wyatt guesses, like it doesn't really matter, though he continues with a squeeze to my hand. "If we go non-stop, maybe one. But I don't want to drive the whole time. Maybe… I want to kiss you."
"That sounds good…"
He squeezes my hand again.
"Maybe, I want to do waaay more than that…"
I pause as my mind experiences a temporary short-circuit and the rest of my body immediately starts to overheat.
"That – that sounds good, too…"
His beard lifts with one of his really sexy smiles and blue eyes finally flash at me for a brief second. "I can't concentrate, so I need your help, Calix," he requests. "Quit staring at me and keep a lookout for cops. I haven't renewed any registration and my license plate is expired…"
"Okay," I agree immediately. "I can do that."
But Wyatt raises his eyebrow disbelievingly. "That means no spacing out. And you have to look for deer too. In the mountains, at this time of year—"
"I can do that," I repeat through a semi-clenched jaw; the firmness in my tone more or less to convince myself. As if to prove it this very second, I turn this magnetic gaze from Wyatt to the road and start scanning the distance ahead.
Wyatt laughs and it really is like ecstasy for my ears. I've grown so ridiculously attached to everything about him and this is just one of countless things. It's abrupt… and sometimes so harsh like a bark…
"Ah… fuck, fuck, fuuuck…" he mutters under his breath a few minutes later. With a sharp gasp I realize that I've been staring ahead but not really looking out any more. There are probably cops I didn't notice, and I tense immediately.
"What?" I ask. "What is it? Cops?"
"Nah it's just… it keeps fucking hitting me, eh? I met you like, a week ago, Calix. And look at us…" Look at him, more like. I end up staring at Wyatt in awe again as he continues. "I never would've believed it."
"Just… never felt like this about someone, y'know? Didn't think it was possible. It's the first time I've ever wanted something so fucking bad that it almost kills me inside. And for a guy?!" Another laugh bursts from him, like it's all some cruel twist of fate. "I'm gay as hell thanks to you."
"Maybe you were always gay," I suggest lightly, projecting a thought that keeps frequenting me when I debate my sexuality. "You were even all like, 'I want an outdoorsy chick' – like no, Wyatt, you want a dude." I tease. A dude to horse around with… be outside with…
"Alright," he allows, grinning ear to ear. "All I know is that until you worked your voodoo magic on me, I didn't exactly want to go near anyone's dick but mine."
"Voodoo magic?!" I exclaim. Though I can't help but laugh as Wyatt nods vigorously.
"Yeah. Life-changing voodoo magic. I even debated if you were real a couple times, it was that fucked up. I thought I'd been on that mountain so long, maybe I was hallucinating; there was no way you could just appear outta nowhere…" Wyatt shakes his head and I find myself missing his choppy locks even if he's still hot as fuck. "Anyway. Feels like magic, right?"
I certainly feel the magic he's talking about – and even if people think we're crazy, at least Wyatt and I have each other. Mom, Dad… Dax… they won't understand any of it. Then I remember something my brother said in the hospital.
"What am I going to say to my parents?"
"Huh? The truth of course," Wyatt says, like there's no choice or any other answer. "Hate to break it to you, Calix, but you're not going to win 'World's Best Liar' anytime soon."
"I know," I begin. "But – but what if they just think I'm crazy like Dr. Fr—the psychiatrist? What if they try and – and stop me?"
It's one of the reasons I didn't go to the Hospital and say goodbye in person. Last thing I want is to be strapped down and committed to a mental institution for wanting to be with Wyatt. And Daxton's words about our parents never letting me see him again struck a deep nerve that's only just started to surface.
Wyatt can read me like a book. Or, I'm just a basket case. Either way his thumb rubs the back of my fidgeting hand and he just laughs at the idea.
"Pfft, I'd like to see them try. They'd have to take you from my cold, dead fingers Calix. I would never let them, alright? I already lost Canuck. Not gonna lose you on top of that."
His reassurance is so nice – and somehow so romantic in an unhinged kind of way. I feel my heart swell to a bursting point and then I rip my hand out of his so I can wrap it around his arm. I squeeze the muscle with a rush of affection and then hold tight.
"I miss Canuck," I comment wistfully. "I thought maybe – maybe he'd find you again…"
Wyatt's arm tenses for a brief second, and then he lets out a sigh. "Yeah well, wasn't meant to be that way I guess. You know, I think he joined that pack, became Alpha, and is like, having the time of his life thinking 'fuck those guys, what was I even doing hanging around them so long'."
I laugh, because as much as I know it pains Wyatt to let go of his companion like that, he can still try and make me feel better about it.
"I love you."
"Yeah, love you too. Now keep those eyes peeled, eh?"
8:06 PM MST
We stop for supper at a diner in Lethbridge and Wyatt asks the staff if we can borrow their phone. The place is pretty empty and the server is sweet enough to go and get one from the front desk. Sitting side by side in a booth, in an otherwise empty section, I snuggle up to his body, having totally forgotten a jacket of my own in my haste to leave. Then – in a gesture I never thought I would ever experience – Wyatt pulls his off, wraps me in the red checkered flaps, and hooks an arm over my shoulder to warm me up.
"Just make it short and sweet," he instructs, handing me the cordless receiver once our server walks away. It's pretty obvious I'm flustered and anxious about having to make the call so he forces my chin up so I look at him. "Okay? Don't go on and on. Tell them you're safe and we'll call them in Nanaimo. They can phone you whenever they want."
This surprises me a little.
"So… I can stay in contact with them?" I try to read his eyes, but they're the same bright blue they've been all day.
Yup, I'm completely confused.
"But—aren't we gonna be living off the grid?"
Wyatt's smile is warm and damn – he's so hot when he looks amused. "Nah. I told you I did some thinking Calix, and I don't want to run from my problems like that anymore. Meeting you made me want to be a good guy, eh? I want to take care of us – provide for real. And I'm not going to keep you from your family… or your brother."
He certainly didn't go into any of these details earlier, but that's okay. I roll with the punches and dial Mom's cell phone number. She answers immediately with a breathless, "Hello?!"
"Oh – Calix? – Honey it's Calix! – Where are you? We got home twenty minutes ago and–"
"I— uh—" I look to Wyatt and then take a deep breath. "Look Mom I left and – and I'm kind of… not coming back for awhile..."
There's a small silence, which is unusual for my Mom. Usually she's more of a chatterbox than I am and I know I've stunned her with this information.
"Wh–what do you mean, Calix…?"
"Um… I mean…" I fluster, but with a reminder to what's at stake, I find a bit of my voice. "Mom, remember the stitches? And everyone kept asking about them… and how I got off that mountain and everything? Well… I didn't say it before but… I was rescued."
"Rescued?" she repeats, still a little breathless. "Cale – Calix I don't understand…? When are you – coming back?"
"I don't know…" I glance up to Wyatt who is stuffing some complimentary buns in his mouth. He chews furiously and leans in to hear Mom's voice through the receiver.
"This isn't the time to joke around… your father–"
"I'm not joking, Mom. Listen – I know it's hard to take in but… but it's just something I need to do. I need to be with Wyatt right now."
"Who's Wyatt?" she screeches. "Calix you aren't making any sense. You're not in any sort of state to be out playing with friends! Come home right away!"
I roll my eyes and Wyatt stifles a teasing laugh, pulling me in to kiss me on my forehead. "Keep going," he whispers. "Tell her the truth."
"Mom – he's not a friend. He's my boyfriend," I correct bluntly, watching mirthful blue eyes turn wide at the title. "And even Dr. Fredericks said it's normal to want to be with him." I leave out all the parts where she clarified it was supposed to be behind closed doors… supervised… "My leg will be fine. Wyatt's the one who stitched me up and helped me get back home in the first place." Silence. "I love him. I want to be with him."
"Calix you're – you're not – I don't know who this person is but you can't… you can't just leave with him!"
"Why not? I'm safe – I'm happy – I'm—"– in love.
"Because – because you just can't!" she chokes, breaking into sobs.
"Mom," I groan. "I know you're worried but – I need this. You don't get it… if I go back home, you and Dad are just going to baby me. You never let me do anything on my own. I really—"
It's too late. My mother's gross cries are filling the line and I can't get a word in. It's only when Dad seemingly takes the phone from her that things get serious quickly.
"Calix, this isn't a joke. The last thing your mother needs is this kind of crap. Where are you? Who are you with? Wyatt Somebody?"
Wyatt has one ear piqued in the direction of the phone. He gives me a shrug at my questioning look and I attempt to grab one of the million thoughts floating around my head.
"Wyatt Walker. Dad – look. I'm with my boyfriend – the person who saved my life. I'll be just fine. I'll call—"
"Calix. You have no money. You have no belongings. You're sick and injured. Whatever 'life adventure' you want to have can wait until we talk about this as a family. Until we can give you enough—"
"No Dad," I interrupt. "You can't just give me money. It's like up on the mountain with all that gear; it ended up not really helping me at all because I didn't know what to do with it. I need to start this with nothing."
I feel like a Disney princess or something… all 'but Daddy, I love him.'
"Calix, any other time, maybe, but you just went through something – that uh – doesn't happen to everyone… and you're not in the right kind of condition to be deciding things like–"
"Dad," I whine. "It's no better time than now, I'm serious. I'm not coming back for awhile. I'll be just fine, I promise. You know I wouldn't do this unless I was absolutely serious…"
There's a small silence but I think finally I'm getting through to him.
"Where will you be staying?" he asks with a resigned kind of voice – still stern. Beside me, Wyatt nods encouragingly.
"In Nanaimo. With Wyatt's dad," I answer immediately, giving him all the information I have currently.
"For how long?"
"I said I don't know—I—"
I hear Mom's voice cut through in a shrill cry. "What about Thanksgiving, Daniel? And Christmas?!" Now I know how annoying Wyatt thought I was when we first met. My parents are thinking about the end of the year when I barely know what'll happen after this phone call…?
Wyatt swallows his mouthful of bread and speaks quietly in my ear. "We can come back for Thanksgiving. I'll meet them and everything. They might not like me but… what's new…"
That sure makes it easier. Once I tell my Dad these things, he starts grumbling and muttering into the phone. I know he's losing his fight – I know he really has no power over me leaving whatsoever. This is as good of a deal as it gets. He fills my Mom in on the compromise and then—
"You call every day," he begins, stating out a number of conditions to a supposed agreement. "You make sure that leg doesn't get any worse. You come home for Thanksgiving—"
"And Christmas!" Mom shouts.
"And Christmas," Dad repeats. "You have my credit card, still?"
"Use it for emergencies," he says. Then, as if my words are just hitting him… "Boyfriend? Lord 'tunderin' Jesus…" I know it's serious when Dad reverts back to his Newfie accent, but I'm still smiling wide. "As long as you're happy, Calix…"
He says that, but I know he'd much rather me date a simple, pretty girl in Calgary.
"Thanks. I love you Dad. Tell Mom I love her too – and Dax," I add as guilty aftershocks of my persistence to leave home take over. "Tell him I'm sorry…"
"Yeah – Christ… I just don't know what else to say right now… but next time you call, you'd better be prepared to answer some more questions. I don't know why all of this is coming out now, and not in the hospital when countless doctors asked—"
I don't want to suffer through a long lecture.
"Okay – I get it. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Dad. Bye!"
9:10 PM MST
I take some painkillers after stuffing myself full with supper and Wyatt complains about the taste of his carrots all the way back to the truck.
"More like orange Styrofoam – fucking gross. Maybe I had it good on that mountain after all. Homegrown vegetables—"
"I didn't see any vegetables," I say. In fact, if my memory serves, we survived on a meat diet, mostly – save for the dreadful Clover Soup and a handful of dried fruits and berries I helped myself to occasionally.
"That's because I didn't plant anything for this year yet," he defends. "Basically caught me coming out of hibernation or something there, Calix. Snow only just melted and you're falling down a hill in the middle of nowhere…"
I smile despite myself and wonder about all the ways that Wyatt lived alone – day to day; what an eternity that would feel like. As I look over at him for what seems like the millionth time, I can't get enough of the sight.
He's with me because he wants to be. Not because I'm a burden…
Catching me staring, Wyatt comes around to the passenger side of the truck and opens the door for me. Before I go to climb in, his arm cuts in front and he effectively traps me against the rusted metal frame.
"Give me that cute face," he says in a seductive voice that is two octaves lower than normal. Proving he has some moves after all, he slides his hand behind my head – cupping gently – before bringing me up slightly on my tippy toes to kiss him. And it feels like the first one in years – though it's just an exaggeration. I kissed him with all I had a few hours ago outside my house.
But once again, my world with Wyatt is on its own time.
I can't help the way I pull him in for more. I have some pretty raw desires of my own just surging through me. It's explosive the way my body charges and reacts just by pressing my lips against his. I never knew how weak my knees could get until they start trembling under my own weight and it becomes an effort to keep myself up. It's hard to have any kind of function when completely wild thrills are racing up and down my body – making me dizzy… making me hot…
Wyatt slips his tongue between my lips and hooks it around mine – sliding along the roof of my mouth. He makes me to open wide so he can go deeper; and even that's not enough because soon he wraps an arm around my back and he pushes me against the side of his truck. I'm forced to arch my back as he pins me temporarily and tongue-fucks me within an inch of my life.
When he's done – leaving me panting and somewhat senseless – he just spreads saliva down my chin, to my throat, and starts a slow grind against me that sends my heart straight out of my chest.
"Calix… Calix – I missed you," he fawns between rougher than necessary bites of my neck. "I was – such an – idiot… to let you go."
I don't even have the lung capacity to agree or tell him I'm an idiot too. I'm focused on the way his knee is digging between my thighs and how he's doing a really good job at stirring me up.
Those bites turn into savage kisses that not only hurt a little bit, but tickle as well thanks to his scratchy beard. He plants one after another along my throat until he reaches my ear – which is altogether an incredibly sensitive area I never noticed before Wyatt entered my life. It makes me start dripping pre-cum; my balls tighten with aching pleasure…
"I'm crazy about you," he breathes, making me think my heart is back in my chest again after it certainly burst into pieces earlier. "And these… mmgh…"
His not-so-forgotten knee nudges again and this time my legs really do go out from under me. I almost fall but Wyatt is holding the small of my back and he just lifts me upright again, carrying some of my weight.
"I miss those shorts…" he mutters against me, free hand palming my good thigh. Wyatt doesn't allow me any time to try and breathe or respond. He just nibbles and sucks on the outer shell of my ear and runs his hand down the inside of my leg. "So hot. Legs for days, Calix."
Not only is it somewhat impossible to believe, but the statement manifests itself into a terrible shame that I ruined something he likes by being so clumsy.
As if he can read my mind, Wyatt continues. "They're even better with the stitches…"
"Pfft, shut up," I say incredulously. But he grips, gropes, and teases too close near my crotch for me to call bullshit any more.
"Seriously," he convinces playfully. "Makes it hard for you to run away…"
Then I'm attacked.
Because Wyatt gets off making me hiccup, gasp, and practically die laughing so hard against my will. And it's a pretty big mood killer because by the time he pulls his beard away from me, I'm livid and trying to push him away.
"Agh! Get off… Wyatt! You – you really need to stop – doing that!"
As I struggle to catch my breath, he just pulls me into a tight bear hug and kisses me warmly.
"Never," he refuses. "Just get used to it."
"Ugh…" I resign myself to be squished against him, and as I regain my breathing, I'm at least rewarded by the intoxicating scent Wyatt gives off; a musk that has strange effects on me. As soon as I know it, I'm relaxing into him and he's just holding me like it's the most normal thing in the world.
"Get in the truck," he says after several silent moments I don't bother to keep track of.
I don't know if we're done or not, but I'm still hard – and certainly on board to fool around some more.
"Finish what you started…" I complain, throwing some words back that he used against me once upon a time.
"Right here?" Wyatt asks, gesturing around the dark, nearly empty parking lot of the restaurant. At my hesitation, he gives me a wicked grin. "Didn't think so. Get in."
There's no arguing with his tone. Been there, done that. So I climb in and Wyatt slams the door after me, heading back around to the driver's side.
He slides into his spot and I half expect him to take out his keys and put them in the ignition. Instead he continues sliding over until he's definitely in my space and before I can ask him what he's doing, he presses me into the seat, leans in, and goes for another kiss.
This time, it's not only more romantic, it's altogether too wild.
His teeth scrape my kiss-swollen lips apart and he nibbles them while leaning his weight against me. I don't feel nervous – but it's something similar to that. It's an excitement that I also get climbing; it's something even crazier than an adrenalin rush.
Intense goosebumps sweep my body at the contact he forces. I don't know how else to describe it, except maybe that this really is magic like Wyatt claimed earlier. The only impulses that make sense are the ones that make me wrap arms around him and pull him in.
And boy do I.
His body is altogether too large to be allowed, and he almost crushes me underneath him, but Wyatt's talented tongue distracts me of all discomfort. By the time he pulls off me for a deep breath, I'm convinced that our bodies are just one big, conjoined mass and it's always been that way.
"God damn, you're cute," he breathes, staring down at me. The light of day is long gone, and Wyatt's angled, strong jaw is half-hidden in shadow... but other than that I can make out his expressions remarkably well. Right now, his face gives it away that he sincerely desires me. His blue eyes are hooded… serious…
So I get playful, pulling him in by the jaw and smooching the scratches I put on his face between mutters of how cute he is. Cute-cute-cute. As I'm preoccupied, Wyatt starts working at the button of my jeans and – maybe it's out of left field – but a random thought strikes along with many others that are about getting it on with him.
"I brought lube," I murmur against the injured cheek.
Wyatt quits fumbling with the damn button immediately.
I'm about to ask what's taking him so long – but then suddenly he's ripping my jeans off, quite literally. I hear the sound of fabric tearing as he uses both hands to pull the flaps of my pants apart – button flying – and then he's yanking them off me and whipping them over his shoulder.
It all becomes heart-poundingly real again as Wyatt forcibly undresses my lower half.
Which isn't really fair because he still has his clothes on.
"Grab it," he instructs, leaning back on his knees a bit to give me room – but also so he can start taking off his own layers.
I find that I am more than willingly on board to do whatever he wants me to when he uses that bossy tone; it's so hot that I don't think I could handle too much more of it. I twist, reaching into the duffle bag on the floor of the truck, and I rummage for the black bathroom organizer I stole earlier this afternoon.
Wyatt's shirt is off, but his pants are still hanging disappointingly on his hips as he takes the bag from me impatiently and looks through it himself – producing the bottle in an instant.
By now my heart is beating wildly against the walls of its cage; it pumps blood to a lot of places, making my head feel foggy and light.
A shocked noise escapes me as Wyatt spins me by the hip. He positions me so my stomach is flat against the bench-seat, and then he lifts my ass – trying for doggy style once again.
I don't know what his problem is but I'm just about to protest when he starts rubbing and teasing through the cotton of my underwear. Those warm hands cup my hard crotch, squeeze my length and even thumb at the crack of my ass.
I thought I was weak before? I have absolutely no body control when Wyatt finally starts to slide my underwear off; I can only open my mouth to let out these intense, deep breaths I'm taking.
Both of his hands grip the round cheeks of my ass and lift high so he can get a good look and start. I would become self-conscious, but there's really not a whole lot of time for that and besides – true love is a weird thing. It overrides all the years of being trained to not show off your privates.
Wyatt only makes appreciative noises as he fondles and stretches my cheeks apart. I'm so caught up in them that I'm not prepared for the cold, wet lube to make contact with me. As I flinch from the frigid temperature, Wyatt just laughs – somewhat evilly – and starts smearing globs of it around my ring.
Then he proceeds to unceremoniously prod his finger in.
A shriek escapes me in the form of Wyatt's name and I tense up immediately, clamping down on his thick finger still trying to worm its way inside me.
"Calm down, you know what's coming." His voice implies he is amused that I find his actions surprising, but then he continues in a darker tone. "Feels like it's been forever," he murmurs as I force myself to relax a bit. Wyatt spins his finger, adding more lube and a second digit before trying his best to prepare me – stretching in every direction; pressing against tight walls... "But… maybe this part of you remembers me," he allows, scissoring his fingers. "It's easier this time…"
"Maybe because you fucked me raw with that stupid dick of yours only a few days ago," I bite out – a little frustrated with the thought my ass is mutilated beyond repair.
"You didn't tear," Wyatt argues, still fingering. "You're fine. Trust. I'll get you real good and ready, princess."
He adds a third finger and things get real. The discomfort I'm feeling certainly quiets me, but also, I have to work through a mess of thoughts.
Like, why is my cock tingling all over suddenly? I shouldn't be getting excited at something that feels weird – awful – uncomfortable… but… being spread open and fingered is terrifyingly intimate in an undeniable way. My knees are spreading wider on their own… one of them is almost off the seat completely.
Wyatt's rough fingers graze against that wonderful g-spot I never knew existed within me, and I feel the first rush of boiling heat take over. It rockets from my crotch to my head – setting me on fire – and the reaction must be more physical than I notice because Wyatt bends over me while fingering and breathes into my ear.
"This feel good?"
But then he presses again – firmer this time and it's like he's clicking a button for my voice box because an uncontrollable noise escapes me. "Ahhh! W-waiiiit – too much!"
That molten hot heat shooting through my cock turns out to be a wave of precum leaking out of me. It drips out in spasms and I have to ball my fists against the urge to rock back on Wyatt's fingers and get him rubbing me good again.
"So hot, Calix," Wyatt growls – still bent over me and grinding his fingers as deep as he can. "Makes me want to fuck you right – this – second."
Another wave; this time intense enough to put me in a semi-delirious state. By the time I regain myself a little bit, I realize my ass is wagging excitedly.
I'm done for.
Wyatt's stirring me up beyond what I can handle.
He teases me with soft breaths into my ear. 'Yeah Calix's and other groans of appreciation as his fingers fill me – as they slide deep enough to get that puffy bundle of nerves throbbing for him. "Wyatt..." His free digits massage and tease my balls – get me wincing. The pleasure is so good it's almost painful as I squeeze – sucking his fingers in to send another uncontrolled moan through my lips.
"Yesss sweetheart... I missed you. I love you."
"Ahhh! Wy-hh-tt... I—I love you—too..."
He tongues my ear in rhythm to his slow, deep finger fuck that has me feeling like I'm melting into a pile of goo. This is crazy. I'm twitching already – backing up and lifting my ass so he can do a good job.
It's torture - so slow - but kind of hypnotic. And besides, any more than this will have me cumming.
No... can't have that without Wyatt.
So thank goodness he seems to pick up that I'm on the edge.
Wyatt removes his fingers and a squirting sound from the bottle indicates he's lubing himself up now. He makes no attempt to spin me back around so I lift up on weak elbows to move myself – but he forces me back into the old leather, lining up the tip of his cock a second later.
"Nooo," I protest. "I don't want—this way…"
"Fuck that, it was your turn last time," Wyatt argues – like we're playing a game at recess. "So now I get to pick, and this is how I want to do it." He emphasizes the words as he lifts me by the hips.
"Yeah well... it's my ass that pays the price," I point out, attempting to move again. All I get is a firm hand pressing into the small of my back to keep me in place.
Remember that hot, bossy tone from before? Wyatt uses it again.
"We're doing it like this," he insists in a hard growl.
Then I can't exactly argue after that. Wyatt presses forwards and I feel that burning tip enter me slowly.
Truth be told, having my ass in the air makes things much easier – though I'm not sure if it's because of the position or if it's because we're no longer dealing with my virginity. All I know is that there is considerably less pain as he enters, and the angle Wyatt has me bent at is perfect. His dick is wet, hard, hot and amazing; I accept half of it without even wincing, and that should be impossible.
Wyatt places his hands on top of the balled fists that are my own, pinning me underneath him in such a way I have to endure whatever comes next. His beard scratches against the side of my face as he attempts to kiss me from behind and I momentarily fawn over how sweet he is before realizing I'm basically going to get force-fucked in about a minute.
Though, in his defense, Wyatt is considerate and slow at first. He lets me adjust on his cock inch by inch, praising me. Then he slides out and – with a hot groan – sets a steady rhythm of his hips.
It's just his hips doing the work because his hands are connected with mine. I spread the fingers of my balled fists apart so Wyatt's can slide between them, then I squeeze with all my strength as his pace escalates considerably out of nowhere.
It's too cramped in the truck, and his movements are definitely rocking the vehicle. But I can't focus on anything except the sensation of Wyatt filling me deeper than necessary, pulling out – over and over—and losing himself in his thrusts.
"Mmgh – Calix… you feel so good…"
He places a soft bite on the patch of neck below my ear and it makes me whine. Sharp, prickly tingles shoot to my cock and my grip on Wyatt's cock flutters with something out of my control.
"You were – nnh – made for me, sweetheart," he continues – though his voice is feeling kind of dangerous. Then, as if confirming my suspicions, Wyatt thrusts in so deep I feel his thighs slam against mine and I know he's in as far as he can get. "All mine…"
Another bite. This one less gentle.
"Nn—oww just – calm down, Wy—att!"
His hand releases one of mine and I don't even know what to do with the useless thing except ball it back up again. Wyatt runs the free hand down my body, grazing it along my stomach, and brushes against my sticky cock – all while I'm helplessly speared on his.
"Look how fucking hard you get for me," he mutters – voice barely above a whisper. The warm breath sends even more pleasurable surges through me and I feel the way my dick twitches against his gentle fingers. "Just for me, right Calix?"
I don't know how he can say such stupid things and make them feel sexy, but I'm putty in his hands.
"Yeah – just you – so don't… don't bite…"
He returns my objections with a squeeze of my cock and by delivering short, brutally deep thrusts that have me squeaking. I have no choice but to use my free hand to hold on to the frame of the door.
"I'll do whatever I want," he reminds. "It's – my – turn."
Such a child.
I don't even have the voice to call him out on it either because he's literally fucking it out of me.
And it's the best.
He's jacking me off in sync to his thrusts and I rocket to the brink of orgasm faster than expected. There's something about the angle he has me at; he's sliding the head of his cock over this wonderful spot every time he drives in.
Saliva flows out of my mouth onto the seat. The pleasure swells to such an intense high that it renders me incapable of warning Wyatt that I'm cumming. But as my hot release pulses through the dick he's holding, he really starts to hammer into me – making me choke on air as my climax spikes over and over.
"Holy fuck… yesss… Calix – you take it so good. Love you… love you… mmgh – I'm gonna cum too – sweetheart –"
I tighten on his cock as he drives in with one final slam and drains inside me.
It is the most unreal sensation – feeling the heat of his cum – feeling the tremors of his length mid-orgasm. Feeling his love for me.
There's nothing like it at all.
Nothing comes close to the blast of endorphins I get… our mutual love has our bodies working in ways I never knew they could. White spots appear behind my eyes as I endure many impossibly wonderful feelings – and I know it's the same for Wyatt who is busy digging teeth into my neck again. The pleasure is just so all-consuming; I didn't feel it before.
We're out of breath – Wyatt, from jackhammering into me – and me, because during sex I lost the function to breathe. We spend a few minutes regaining ourselves but Wyatt doesn't pull out. He just stays on top of me until I start to struggle.
"Take it… out…"
"But… just one more time, Calix."
11:11 PM MST
I make a wish.
At the moment, I'm lying on the seat after Wyatt's vicious fucking with my feet in his lap – not following proper seatbelt laws at all – as he continues to drive. I don't know how long he'll keep going for, or where we'll stop, or anything like that. None of that matters.
What matters is that Wyatt and I are together. And my juvenile wish is a mix of things that ensure we're both happy for the rest of our lives.
I feel like, before Wyatt, I was some kind of ugly, insignificant caterpillar; not really knowing my purpose and not caring about it either. And even though the psychiatrist told me I have a fixation issues… control issues… dependence issues – it feels more like being with Wyatt is giving me strength, bit by bit.
Up on that mountain, he helped build a cocoon; a dark world, where for once my future was unknown and days passed without minutes and seconds. But it felt so incredibly real – and right – and I realized…
I wasn't meant to be in the city. I wasn't meant to keep track of time. I wasn't meant to let Dax or my parents do everything for me for the rest of my life.
I was meant to be free – to experience new things with someone I love. To live and learn; grow and change.
Racing along this road to our new home… a new life… I finally feel like a butterfly.
A/N: *ominous whisper* Book Two is coming. Buuuut I don't know when. I want to finish so many things! Well, anyway it is coming! Love you all! I've read each and every review. I used to respond to every single one but idk... maybe you guys don't like that? If you want me to respond please let me know!
Also, just want to mention, if you're not following me on Twitter, you're not getting progress updates on stories (including when Book Two is coming) – snippets, sneak peeks, advance chapters, votes on what I should update next, and so much more!