He cracked up at that. “You so got the better end of that deal.”
“You’re only saying that because…” She trailed off, not sure she should say what she was thinking. Not when it came to this.
“I’m only saying that because Poppy suits you. Despite the fact that you don’t have red hair. And, for the record, I have no desire to snort you up my nose.”
It was her turn to laugh. “I’ll try not to be offended that you don’t.”
“Why would I, when there are so many better things to do with you?” He slid a hand down inside her jeans, traced a finger along her still wet sex.
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure you already did a bunch of those things.” And still she spread her thighs. Still she arched into his touch.
“Did I?” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth before licking his way along her bottom lip. “I don’t remember. We should try a couple of them again, just to jog my memory.”
“Oh, yeah?” she murmured against his lips. “And what is it you think we should try again?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He flicked his thumb across her clit and she gasped, her legs falling open as wide as her skinny jeans would let them.
He took instant advantage, his tongue sliding inside her mouth at the same time his fingers stroked inside her sex.
It felt good, really good, and for long moments she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but lie there and take it. Eventually, though, reality intruded and she pulled her mouth from his. “Shouldn’t we get back? The others are probably freaking out—”
“The others are used to waiting for me,” he told her as he pressed kisses along the line of her jaw. “Besides, I’m not very good at ‘shouldn’t we’s.’”
“Yes, but you need—” She broke off on a moan as he crooked two fingers deep inside her and found her G-spot.
“What I need is to watch you come again,” he muttered against her skin, his thumb circling her clit.
She didn’t think that was going to be a problem, considering the fact that she was already close. She’d always known he was magic with his hands—anyone who paid attention when he played the drums had to know that—but still, what he was doing to her body was absolute art. Absolute heaven.
“Wyatt,” she gasped as he twisted his fingers and she climbed even higher. “Wyatt, I—”
“It’s okay,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “I’ve got you, Poppy. I’ve got you.” And then he pulled her closer, his arms tight around her as he pinched her clit with one hand and her nipple with another.
That was all it took to send her soaring over the edge, orgasm thundering through her like a drum riff. Wyatt held her through it all, his talented fingers coaxing every cry, every whimper, every ounce of pleasure out of her until she was boneless. Mindless. Until all she could do was curl into his chest and cling.
He held her as she came down, his calloused fingers stroking her back, her neck, her cheek, as she trembled against him. He pressed kisses into her hair, whispered about how beautiful she was, how sweet.
It wasn’t what she’d expected from him, but it turned out it was exactly what she needed. She clung to him for long seconds, dropping kisses along his neck and collarbone and whatever parts of him she could reach. At least until Wyatt’s phone buzzed with a series of quick texts.
He ignored it, but she couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to spend the rest of the day out here with him, he had a job to do. And so did she. At least for now.
Reaching into his pocket, she fished out his phone and held it to him. Though initially all he did was scowl at it—and her—eventually he relented and took the thing.
His scowl only deepened as he scrolled through the texts, although that might have had something to do with her taking advantage of his preoccupation to scramble off his lap and straighten her clothes once again—and taking extra care to make sure she was out of his reach as she did so.
“Time’s up?” she asked after he fired off a couple of texts in quick succession.
“Something like that. Ryder’s threatening to come looking for us if I don’t get my ass back there.”
“Of course he is.” She all but shoved him onto the path to the house. “You did drop a hell of a bombshell back there. Is it any wonder they’re freaking out?”
They didn’t say anything else as they walked back to the studio, both lost in thought. She was doing her best to figure out how to convince Wyatt to change his mind about quitting Shaken Dirty, and he was thinking about…God only knew what. She could only imagine what was running through his head after that awful call with her father.
Once they reached the studio, he headed toward the front door with her hand still firmly clasped in his. She stopped him with a murmured, “I’m going to get going now.”
“You don’t have to leave,” he told her.