Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4 Page 7

  Moving his hand down my body, he rubs my clit. “I want you undone, Circe.”

  “Wyatt, I’ll come undone in seconds if you—”

  “That’s my devious plan.” Light dances across his glorious features and I find it hard to concentrate at all. The corner of his mouth turns up, and that single dimple of his sucks in, making my mind blur.

  “Is this where you don’t want me?” Without warning, he dips his finger between the soft folds of my pussy lips and pushes in, filling me, punishing my release.

  Wanton whore, table for one? Yes, that’s me, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ll admonish myself in the morning for being such a greedy, sexually deprived woman that fell for Wyatt's touch when I should’ve ran.

  I cry out as he puts his palm across my clit, applying pressure on the spot I know will cause me to fall apart fast. “I think you’re wrong. I think you want me a whole lot, Circe. You’re soaking fucking wet.”

  I sigh out my satisfaction as he delves his finger in further. Punishing the edges of my orgasm from me, I moan loudly. I can’t believe I’m hearing myself. “Wyatt. More, please,” I plead. I sound like an avid whore, but I don’t care. I just want what he can give me.

  “What do you want, Circe?” he asks as he continues to tease.

  “I want you to fuck me, Wyatt. Please,” I beg, pleading for the release. My body is tense and alight from his touches. It’s bloody fucking hard to breathe.

  “No.” He smiles that wicked smile. “I told you, you’re not getting off that easy.”

  “It’s not funny, Wyatt. I’m done with teasing.” Removing his other hand from my breast, I feel an instant loss of contact. When he laughs at me, I whimper in frustration.

  “Please, Wyatt. You can torture me on the second round.”

  Closing his eyes tightly as I stroke him, his hand still tempts my resolve. Forcing my hand from his stiff cock, he turns me around and pushes me down, flat on my back on the bed, laid out like a buffet for his enjoyment.

  “I have a hard time denying a goddess in need.”

  “Thank the gods for that,” I laugh. I’ve never had this kind of sex, one with conversation, jokes, and teasing. I never knew it could be like this, but it’s real, dammit. If fairy tales are true, this shit just fucked with my reality.

  He removes his pants and briefs, then trails his hands up my body. He clasps my thighs and spreads them apart until he reaches the apex of my legs, where he lazily draws closer and closer to my awaiting pussy. I watch him as he dips his large frame lower.

  While Wyatt has kept his cool head during this play of wills, I’ve fallen apart one nerve at a time. I want what he offers so freely, that I’ll greedily take it over and over throughout the night. Just like my silent musings earlier in the day, I want him elbows deep in the bed and panting above me.

  The thought elicits a laugh.

  “What’s funny?”

  I know I shouldn’t tell him, but I do. “I thought of this today, and I have to say, this is way sexier.” Pulling up on the bed beside me, he reclines so that his cock rests on my thigh. Teasing my nipple, he tweaks it and pinches it, hard. My body rises off the bed, begging for more contact. He abruptly stops and reaches down to his pants. A few seconds later, I hear the rip of a condom wrapper.

  Wrapping up that baseball bat size dick of his, I make my request again. “Fuck me,” I groan out as he positions his body above me.

  “It’s time for your reward, Siren. Tell me later if I lived up to your daydreams.” As his cock taunts my entrance, I find myself falling further and further into Wyatt Crown. He’s the planet and I’m the comet in orbit that’s circling. I’m being pulled deeper, with no option but to fall to the pull of his gravity.

  I could fall really hard if I’m not careful.

  “Siren,” he whispers as he positions himself.

  “Yes, Mr. Crown?”

  “I like it dark, hard, and fast.” Pushing just past my entrance, I feel everything stretch to accommodate his girth. While his gaze has yet to leave mine, I start to pant as he moves, gliding back and forth until he’s fully seated inside of me. I joyously grunt a little at the tight feeling, enjoying the crushing pressure of his size.

  I almost scream out as I feel him move back and forth, finding his rhythm as he hits all the right spots.

  “You’re so tight, Siren. Fuck, this will be quick, but I promise you’ll come hard.” I’d agree to goats and videos right now. I only need him to move against that one spot so I can fall completely apart. I already feel the heat rising up my body, licking my skin with white hot flames.

  “Faster, Wyatt!” I yell out. “Yes—yes!”

  To myself it sounds needy, but I enjoy every second. Wyatt pants above me as his movements become faster and faster, hitting harshly within as my orgasm crests.

  “Let go. Come for me,” he says as he continues to assault my body, thrusting harder and deeper. Removing my tight grip from the sheets, I drag my nails down his beautiful, taut ass. He strains and holds out his own end until it finally crashes over me like waves on a beach. As I tighten around him, milking his orgasm from him, I come harder than I ever thought possible.

  “Circe,” he growls out as he pumps a few more times before slowing down, sweaty and sated.

  Falling into a heap of limbs, we flop across the bed as our bodies come down from the intense high. Rising on his side, he walks off to the bathroom to clean up, returning with a wet, warm washcloth.

  “So now that you’ve seen me naked, did I hold up to the urban myths?” I honestly wouldn’t know, since I’ve never actually heard about his exploits. But, even if I did, I wouldn’t want to inflate his ego any further.

  “Actually, you didn’t. I always assumed you were a bit taller, and that you had nicer teeth.” Moving the warm cloth across my body, I’m amazed at his care.

  “Well, Ms. Maco, you’ll just have to put that in your next newscast. “Casper Crown is not as tall as I thought, and his teeth have flaws. Mind you, his dick is just as I thought it would be.’” His smile reaches his ears as his dimples drag in. It’s infectious, and damn near perfect. Boy, could I get addicted to that smile.

  “We can’t have that. I wouldn’t want others to think you were near perfect. Your head would have to be considered carry-on luggage with the size it would become.” This earns me a slap on the ass.

  “Ow!” I laugh, thinking of what comment could earn me another of those. I try to concentrate on the conversation at hand, but I’m finding myself quickly aroused.

  “And the dick portion of that newscast is truly incorrect; it’s wider and longer. If I reported that, you’d never make it out of hotels. All the bimbettes would strip you bare in the lobbies. We’d find you tied to the bannisters.”

  “Well, that won’t be happening anytime soon. You know, I never have and never would go for those kinds of girls. Too many of them I’ve seen during hallway sex.” Ha, funny.

  “Hallway sex?” I act confused.

  He leans up on his elbow. “Yeah. Screaming and yelling after a guy has dumped them outside their door after a quickie.”

  That bit hits close to home. “Don’t you ever tire of it? I mean, constantly changing girls like tires on your bike?”

  “I have a lot of dark in me. The release they give me helps keep it at bay. I don’t think you could understand true darkness.” You’d be surprised, Mr. Crown.

  Wyatt lays close enough for me to see the peach lines that run through the center of his irises. He’s stunning, absolutely arresting in his beauty, but deep within, I see the darkness he talks of cresting the surface.

  Lightly feathering soft touches against my skin, up and down the soft flesh of my back, I think of how great this is. I’ve never had the post coital bliss, the languid touches and featherlight moments that happen after. This is nice.

  “You know what I’m thinking, Siren?” He winks and rolls over onto his back so that his semi-erect power tool lays loud and proud against his thigh.
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br />   “Does it have to do with another round? I could be talked into that.” Laying my leg across his bare thigh, he strokes along the seam of my ass, towards my entrance.

  With a grin like the Grinch, dirty and crazy looking, he says, “Oh, you are a devilish desire, my Siren. How will I ever leave this bed?” Amazingly, his semi turns into a full hard-on.

  Perfect.

  I look to the clock on the side table and ask, “How much time before you have to leave?” Rising up on my knees, I push my ass into the air and stalk towards his glistening cock.

  “I have three hours and forty-five minutes, then I need to pack it up and shuffle off.” He smiles wide. “What devious thoughts do you have in that wicked mind?”

  I look at his glorious toy and smile. “Oh, that’s tons of time.”

  CHINA

  “I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear. Why does your brother feel he’s above my request for punctuality.” It’s not asked with the intent of an answer; it’s not even rhetorical. Mother states it as a fact. Daddy is up front, checking with the flight crew, and some of the race team have fallen asleep as we await Wyatt.

  I’m ignoring Mom as she has a hissy about his lateness. If I react, answer, or even breathe the wrong way, I’ll be dealing with her wrath instead of him. I know better than that. We should have been wheels up almost twenty minutes ago. Well, forty now. This is the best part of having private jets; slight delays are overlooked when they’re on your dime. The only bad part is that when the flight plans are messed up too long, we start to deal with other issues—FAA issues.

  Watching as our mother paces the cabin, I pull out my phone and text his ass again.

  Me: WTF Cas?

  Waiting for his answer, I curl up on the couch and stare at the screen, hoping he doesn’t desert me to her wrath for a nine-hour flight. He can’t leave me to this again. No fucking way. I know my brother, and the one thing he is is loyal to me. He won’t subject me to dealing with her alone.

  Christ, if she loses it on the flight, we’ll have to sedate her again. Last time, I dealt with that shit for a week after he set her off. Sometimes, I wonder who’s worse, him or her?

  Thank fuck I didn’t inherit their particular set of genes. I may have to endure it daily, being subjected to their mood swings, their abnormal highs and lows, but I’m not like them.

  Flicking through my various social feeds on my cell, I don’t notice Daddy sneaking up behind me. “Any answer?”

  “Nope. It’s not like him to be this late.” Which is true.

  “We’ll give him twenty more, then I’ll have to deal with the captain.” Patting me on the shoulder, he bends his large frame to kiss me on the forehead. “And your brother will have to deal with me.” Shit. Not him too. To be safe, I won’t wait twenty. In five or less, I’ll be calling his ass.

  “K, Daddy.”

  As he leaves, he takes his innate scent with him. I’ve always loved the smell of him; all musky and vehicular. If anyone could exude the smell of a bike, car, or fighter jet, it would be my dad. He smells like danger, and that makes me feel safe in a strange way. Maybe I have an instability too, seeing as I enjoy the smell of burnt tires, raw fuel, and charred brake pads.

  Looking outside to see if Wyatt is smart enough to show up before I have to call him, my phone chimes.

  Cas: Sorry D. Missed the time. Running through final check.

  Me: Be ready.

  He knows what that means. I don’t have to explain what he’s walking in to.

  Feeling a bit more at ease, I settle into the couch, laying my favorite blanket and Hello Kitty neck pillow at the end. Yeah, I know it’s childish, but it’s the softest and best pillow I’ve ever owned, so that shit goes on every long haul. With a long flight ahead, one that will be filled with endless arguments between Mom and Wyatt, with Dad bringing her down from the edge before she opens the escape hatch, the rest of us will turn a blind eye, as if it’s a bad audition on Idol.

  As I’m considering how this can go wrong, Wyatt happily steps through the cabin door, overtly joyous. He’s having one of his high moments. Maybe today, we can avoid the low.

  The cabin crew closes the doors behind him, essentially locking in our family fiasco. Mother takes in his attire with a facial expression that could only be described as ‘about to fuck your shit up.’

  “I see there was no time to change as you delayed us all. You’ve cost this family yet again, Wyatt Jackson.” Starting off with first and middle names, I can see this flight will be fantastic.

  “Don’t call me that. You know I hate that,” he snaps.

  “Well I hate that you have blatant disregard for our time, our money, and our patience.” My mother can plaster on the mask of the beautiful matriarch that is poised, contained, and sugary sweet, but right now, that mask has been removed and the manic is visible. She hasn’t pushed the button that drags Wyatt down with her yet, but it’s only a matter of time before it happens.

  “I race, and I raise some of that wasted money, thank you.” Reaching into his wallet, he slips out his black card and slams it down on the table. “Here, take a payment if you wish, Mother.”

  Great. Now he’s being condescending.

  Shaking my head, avoiding this as best as I can, I curl up and turn away from their insane need to alleviate their shortcomings on each other.

  “Marca,” Dad chimes in. Touching her lightly on the arm, he motions for her to take a seat. “I’d really like to get some rest. Could you and Wyatt lay off it for a few hours at least?” He’s trying to appease her wounded psyche, which is not easy. As the two of them talk in hushed tones at the back of the plane, the majority of the race team have selected the couches in the front of the plane, leaving us the space to go through these family implosions.

  When her tangents are in full swing, and Wyatt’s are meshing at the same time, we have no way to get through to either of them. Thank fuck, neither of them have guns. All I can hope is that Dad has already slipped a sedative into her drink.

  With a lull in the war, Wyatt walks over to me and bends down, giving me a light squeeze. “Hey, Doll. Settled in already, I see.” Tapping my Hello Kitty pillow, he grins.

  “Yeah, it was a late night.” Yawning, I nod and motion to our parents. I’m not getting into it, but let’s just say that Mother shouldn’t have drank that last champagne. She shouldn’t have drunk any of them if you want to get technical.

  “Get some sleep, sweets,” he says as he backs away. In the background, I can hear Mother muttering to Dad about Wyatt and his disrespect. I can see this is going wrong fast.

  I turn to my brother. “Avoid it. Don’t fall down the rabbit hole today.” It’s fruitless, I know, but I have to try. Cas understands the unsaid issues, smirking that sweet smile I love. Maybe it won’t be one of those flights. Maybe she won’t set him off? Who am I kidding. Mom is raging, and her mood will take this in a direction none of us want to deal with. There’s really no good way out of this.

  As Mother flings away Dad’s hand, she storms across the cabin and faces off with my brother like a pissed off queen bee. “Wyatt, I’ve had enough of your—”

  “What, Mother? What have you had enough of? You know, I walked in here, happy, because last night was fucking amazing. I enjoyed talking to a woman that didn’t rile me up like you do. I had a great race. I avoided killing some idiot and myself. I won for the third time, and I’d love for you to tell me what is it you’ve had enough of?” I see the moment the switch flips and Wyatt goes from the loving, caring, sweet brother I know to the harsh, destructive, anger-filled man that I can’t even get through to.

  “You!” Screeching, her voice rises an octave as she pokes his chest.

  Laughing that dangerous, sick sounding tone, he yells, “Me? I’m the fault in your life?”

  “Wyatt. Sit down, son,” Dad tries to interject. Most of the time, he can talk sense into them, especially into Mom as he calms her, trying to be her balm. Sometimes, I’m the only one w
ho can get through to Wyatt. But, today, I don’t have the energy for their conflict, so I’m leaving this one to Dad.

  “No, Dad. I need to know how it is that I’ve destroyed her today, how I’ve been the crushing death on her soul for so many years.” His pain radiates in waves off his body. I’ve always felt how the pressure of their illness wrecks them equally, but I can do nothing but watch.

  I stay right where I am. Out of the corner of my eye, I try to keep a watch for Ben and Dad with the sedatives. Both Mom and Wyatt will need to be controlled soon, or the flight crew won’t allow the flight to take off. We’re hitting the louder parts of this war, and the inevitable taxi back to the airport is close at hand.

  “You were the mistake! You shouldn’t have touched that bike then! You shouldn’t have even—you shouldn’t have been like them! Now look at your sister, following in Wyatt fucking Casper Crown’s footsteps.” As tears stream down her cheeks as she screams, she has entered the point where no sensible conversation will be heard.

  “I’ve always been your disappointment. I’m the disgusting child that touched the bike that wasn’t mine.”

  “You’re absolutely right! It was James’s bike, not yours. Never yours. You were supposed to be something different!”

  As Dad fills the syringes, I keep an eye on Wyatt, looking for the cues of him hitting that wall, the one where there’s no coming back from, as she degrades and berates him. He’s never hit her, but she can cuss him out so badly that he wants to harm himself. It’s the odd time I can reach him before that last stage of his illness kicks into gear, but I don’t think it’s going to happen today. He came in on a high, and she dropped him like a stone in a pond.

  Trying to drown out the conversation, the two of them continue to go head-to-head with their cutting words. He’s hurting her with his, and she’s trading evil blows just as fast. Dad nods at me before advancing on Mom. Ben has his in hand as he takes a step towards Wyatt, whose back is to him. Without warning, they both plunge the needles in, allowing the liquid to flow quickly into their intended patients. Both Mom and Wyatt groan, knowing what’s happened, but unable to stop it. It’s a fast-acting concoction, thank fuck, so they should crash within moments.