One Pucking Secret (One Pucking #1)

Chapter 9

Chloe

“Chloe,” Wyatt starts, wetting his lips. He exhales, as if he needs a moment to compose himself. “The reason I disappeared after we hooked up was because I got a call that morning informing me that my parents had died in a car accident.”

My lips part. His confession hangs heavy in the air, his words a sudden weight that pulls me deep into a sea of remorse. I never knew—how could I have? I learned over time that his parents had died, but I never made the connection that it happened that day. The weight of the anger I carried, it crumbles, leaving me bare and vulnerable in his hold.

“I know I should have called,” he says, his voice a low rumble against the shell of my ear. “But my entire world shifted after that morning. I know my parents weren’t the best people, but hell. They were my parents. ”

My head dips, chin nearly grazing my chest, as shame flushes through me. All this time, anger was my shield, a barrier against the hurt of his silence. Yet now, hearing the raw edge of pain in his voice, how can I confess my own secret? The other calls, the ones where I tried to reach him, to tell him about the life we created—they go unmentioned.

“Can we have a do-over?” he whispers, and the question catches me off guard, stirring something deep inside me. A do-over? After everything?

Before I can fully process it, Wyatt leans in, his gaze locked on mine. My breath catches, but I don’t pull away. His lips meet mine, softly at first, testing, then deepening with more urgency.

His touch is warm, his fingers tracing the edge of my blouse, sending sparks across my skin. I respond without thinking, leaning into him, my pulse quickening as his hands move up my back, pulling me closer.

A soft moan escapes me as the heat between us builds, his lips traveling down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Chloe,” he murmurs, his voice husky and full of longing.

I feel like I’m falling, and I don’t want to stop .

“Wyatt,” I breathe back. Each kiss he plants along my throat is like a star igniting in the night sky, bright and consuming.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” I whisper, my lungs working hard under his touch.

“Tell me about it. Your skin is softer than I remember.”

“I upped my skincare routine.”

He chuckles, his fingertips tracing my breasts. Suddenly, my blouse is too much fabric.

Leaning forward, his lips caress my collarbone, then plant a trail toward the top button of my blouse. I’m almost certain he’s going to remove it with his teeth, but instead, he begins unfastening it with his fingers.

I give him some assistance, exposing my black lace bra. “These are bigger than I remember them.”

I bite my lip, certain that telling him my boobs got bigger after I had a child is off the table. “You can thank my killer chest routine for that. Push-ups and chest-flys work wonders.”

“Seems so.” With deft fingers, he unhooks my bra, and it falls away. An unneeded barrier cast aside.

My own hands are not idle. They’re hungry for him. I fumble with the buttons on his shirt, each one a tiny victory as the fabric gapes open to reveal the sculpted landscape of his abs. The sight of his muscular build, the hard planes and valleys, pulls a gasp from me. My fingers dance across the ridges of his chest, tracing the topography of a man carved from perseverance and strength.

Then, he does something unexpected, something that lifts the world from its axis—he sweeps me off my feet, quite literally. Just like he did years ago. His arms, solid as the pillars of a temple, cradle me close as he carries me toward the bedroom.

We cross the threshold, and the outside world fades to a whisper. All that exists is the magnetic pull of our bodies yearning to become one.

The bedroom surrounds us, a haven of soft light and sleek edges, with a massive king-sized bed and windows that frame the city lights like stars scattered below. He lowers me onto the comforter, his hands tracing every curve like he’s memorizing me. In one smooth motion, I shrug off my blouse, the cool air brushing against my skin.

He leans down, taking one of my nipples into the heat of his mouth, his touch sending a wave of warmth through me. A moan vibrates through me. My fingers grip the sheets, anchoring me to this moment, to the whirlwind of sensation that he conjures with every touch. Memory hadn’t done justice to the skill of his lips—each pull sends ripples of pleasure coursing through me.

My hands find their way to his belt, unbuckling it with an eagerness that draws a chuckle from him.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” he teases, his breath warm against my skin.

“Should I move slower?”

But the urgency in our movements, the way our bodies speak to each other—it’s clear we’re past the point of slowing down.

He shakes his head, blue eyes darkening with desire. “No, this is perfect.” His affirmation is sealed with another deep kiss. I sit up, and he joins me at my side, his hands helping to slide the denim over my hips.

Standing, he sheds his boxers, and the sight of him—powerful, ready, magnificent—draws a bitten lip and a whispered “Wow” from me.

The corners of his mouth lift in a knowing smirk. “Like what you see?”

I nod, mute with anticipation.

“Then why don’t you show me?” he challenges, voice laced with raw need.

I close the distance between us, then settle on my knees to welcome him into the heat of my mouth. My hand wraps around the base of his cock, stroking in tandem with the rhythm set by my lips. Every sigh from him, every shift of his muscle under my touch, is a testament to the connection that still blazes between us after all the lost time.

His grip in my hair tightens, a primal affirmation of the moment. “Mm, baby,” he groans, and it’s raw, stripped of any barriers we once had between us. “God, you’re incredible,” he says, his voice hoarse with pleasure.

His praise sends a ripple of pride through me, and I move faster, taking him deeper, reveling in the way he loses control.

“Jeez, I’m not going to be able to hang on much longer.” His blue eyes are clouded with need, locked onto mine, and I can feel the tension coiling within him, ready to spring forth.

“Then don’t,” I whisper against his flesh before my tongue flicks across the sensitive tip. I take him back into my mouth, the taste of him both familiar and intoxicating.

With a final thrust of his hips, he surrenders, releasing himself into my mouth. The taste of him is a bittersweet tang on my tongue .

“Delicious,” I murmur after swallowing, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I rise up to look at him.

“Turn around and get on all fours,” he commands, his voice thick with desire. “Now.”

Obediently, I pivot, feeling the cool air against my heated skin. He tugs on the waistband of my skirt, removing it in one pull. Once he tosses it to the floor, his fingers hook into the strings of my thong, pulling it aside with a swift tug. The fabric falls away, and I’m laid bare to his gaze.

Suddenly I cry out as I feel his fingers trace my slick entrance.

“So wet, Chloe. Seems you’re all ready for me.”

“Please,” I beg, my body aching for him.

His fingers circle my clit, my moans escaping me, one after the other. His touch is light, but enough to make me melt like putty.

“God, Wyatt.” My chest heaves as he massages my clit. My breathing is frantic, my legs shaking. I’ve never been more turned on.

But then he slips a single finger from his other hand inside of me, and I completely lose it. I drop my head against the sheets, lost in his touch. His pace quickens against my clit, finger thrusting into the depths of my core .

“Fuck,” I cry out. I cling to the sheets, my moaning never ceasing as he slips a second finger inside of me.

“You’re so tight, you wrap around my fingers perfectly.”

I turn my head enough so our eyes meet, and he shoots me a devilish grin that tells me he’s ready to push me over the edge, and he’s going to enjoy every second of it. He thrusts only three more times before I shatter. Harder than I have in years.

“Oh, God!” I pant, his fingers never ceasing to thrust as I ride out my orgasm.

Finally, it becomes too much, so I place my hand over Wyatt’s to urge him to stop.

“Watching you come like that is amazing,” he tells me, rubbing my arms with his slick fingers.

“I need more of you,” I tell him in between heavy breaths. I turn around and relax my back against the bed. “All of you.”

He lets out a laugh. “Are you sure? You seem like you could use some rest.”

I shake my head, spreading my legs without thinking. “Not yet. Please. I still haven’t felt you inside of me.”

He eyes my entrance, his gaze heavy with desire. “Condom? Feel like I’m always asking you that. ”

My eyes dart to the side. Unlike our first time, I actually keep one with me at all times, but it’s in my purse. Trusting that Wyatt has one, I simply nod.

He reaches over, rummaging through the nightstand drawer before producing the foil packet. I watch, biting my lip in anticipation, as he tears it open and sheathes himself with practiced ease.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning over me, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re about to get what you want.”

His words hang between us, charged with promise, as we both teeter on the edge of fulfillment. I brace myself, ready to plunge back into the depths of our shared hunger.

His body aligns with mine. There’s a moment of stillness before he bridges the final distance. Slowly, he enters me, and my breath catches in my throat.

“Oh!” escapes my lips as I arch toward him, craving more. “Yes, please.”

“That’s right, baby,” his voice is a low growl, resonating through the room as his hips begin to move. Each thrust sends a ripple of pleasure through me, and I grasp the pillow, muffling my cries into the soft fabric. He feels too good, an intoxicating rhythm that knows no hesitation or doubt.

His presence is overwhelming—powerful, commanding. Every nerve in my body is on fire as he finds all the right spots with a precision that radiates pure hunger and need.

Abruptly, he halts, pulling out, and I feel the absence like a cold shower. But then he sits back on the bed, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. “Ride me, Chloe. Show me how badly you need it.”

I don’t hesitate. I straddle him, feeling the strength of his thighs beneath me as I sink down onto his cock. A shudder runs through me. “Oh, that feels so good,” I moan, hands planting on his broad shoulders for leverage.

His hands roam my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs teasing over sensitive peaks. “That’s right, baby. The perfect view to watch you come.”

Driven by his words, I ride him with abandon, every bounce a step closer to the precipice.

My climax hovers just within reach, a tantalizing promise. “I will soon,” I gasp, the coiling tension inside me winding tighter.

“Don’t hold back.” His hands grip my waist, guiding, urging .

I press down harder, faster, the slap of our bodies a testament to our shared desperation. Sensation builds, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm me. I throw my head back, riding the wave until it crashes down, consuming me in the most powerful orgasm of my life.

Beneath me, his body tenses, his own release following mine, a storm that mirrors the tempest inside me. Together we find solace in the eye of the hurricane, our breaths mingling, our hearts racing in unison.

We collapse onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and labored breaths. Wyatt’s arm snakes around me, drawing me into his chest.

“Nice do-over,” he mutters against my hair.

“I agree,” I whisper back, still reeling from the intensity between us. The warmth of his body seeps into mine, comforting yet igniting an array of embers that refuse to die down.

“Hey, I’m going to take care of this,” he says, gesturing to the condom, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

“Sure,” I nod, watching as the lines of his back flex with each movement.

He disappears into the master bathroom, the click of the door echoing softly in the spacious room .

I sit up, my legs feeling like they’re made of something softer than flesh, maybe clouds or whipped cream. The quiet settles in, and before I fully process the moment, reality nudges. Jasper. The thought floods in, swift and clear.

Pushing off the bed, I slip into the living room, bare feet padding against the cool hardwood floor. I grab my phone, dialing Lainey almost on instinct.

“Hey, Lainey. How’s Jasper?” I ask.

“Hey, he’s been great, as always.” Lainey’s voice is a soothing balm. “Ate all of his dinner, took a bath, then zonked out after story time.”

“Thank you again for watching him,” I say, the gratitude in my tone wrapping around each word.

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you and Jasp. Besides, you deserve a night out, especially with someone as hot as Wyatt Banks. How did it go? Did you two talk yet?” She’s fishing for details, her curiosity as evident as the sparkle in her blue eyes would be if she were in front of me.

“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, okay?” My lips curve into a smile she can’t see. “Let’s just say… I’m glad I came tonight. I got the clarity I’ve been needing all these years. ”

“That’s what counts, right?” There’s a smile in her voice too.

“Right.”

“Feel free to spend the night,” Lainey presses gently. “I have a free morning tomorrow anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Enjoy yourself, you hear me?”

I chuckle. “Deal. Thanks again.” With those words, I end the call and head back to the bedroom, my heart lighter than it’s been in ages.

Before Wyatt emerges from the bathroom, I slip back onto the bed, the cool sheets a contrast to the heat still lingering between us. He returns, the familiar scent of him mixed with mint filling the air.

“Stay the night?” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it, carrying a vulnerability that Wyatt Banks rarely reveals.

I pause, my heart pounding, then meet his gaze. “Yes.”

Our lips meet, the kiss tinged with the weight of everything unspoken—a promise, a question, and the feeling that everything is about to change.