Warning: This is an 18+ version of Chapter 62 containing explicit content and language. It is intended for mature audiences only.
[Perspective: Aryan Spencer]
I floated up from the depths of sleep because the universe decided I had slept enough and needed to start experiencing the reality of my life again.
My left arm was pinned. My chest was heavy. My legs were tangled in a knot that defied basic anatomy.
And I was warm. Incredibly warm.
I cracked one eyelid open.
Wanda was draped over me like a very beautiful weighted blanket. Her head was resting on my shoulder, her face turned inward toward my neck. Her arm was thrown across my chest, her hand holding mine tightly, as if she were afraid to let go.
I exhaled, feeling the way her thighs shifted slightly, as if even in sleep, her body sought more of me.
I shifted my head slightly, just enough to see her face.
Her breathing was a rhythmic puff of air against my collarbone. Her eyelashes were dark crescents against her pale skin.
She looked absolutely beautiful.
A surge of affection so strong it actually hurt my chest welled up inside me.
I moved my free hand (the right one) slowly.
I brought my hand up to her face. I hovered my index finger over the tip of her nose.
I tapped it. Once. Lightly.
She didn't stir.
I smiled.
I traced the bridge of her nose, running my finger up to her forehead. I smoothed out a tiny frown line between her eyebrows.
"Relax," I whispered, the sound barely vibrating in my throat.
She sighed in her sleep, the frown line disappearing.
I moved my hand down. I traced the curve of her cheekbone. I ran my thumb over her lower lip. It was soft.
I couldn't help myself.
I leaned in. I pressed a kiss to her temple.
Then I moved down. I kissed her eyelid.
I kissed the tip of her nose.
I kissed her cheek, right near the ear.
Wanda stirred. A contented hum vibrated in her throat. The corners of her mouth twitched upward.
She's awake, I realized. She's faking it.
I leaned back just an inch, watching her. Her eyes were still squeezed shut, but the smile was growing.
"You're terrible at playing possum," I whispered.
"I am sleeping," she murmured, her voice thick and raspy. "Go away."
"You are smiling," I pointed out. "Sleeping people don't smile unless they're dreaming about cheese."
"Maybe I am dreaming about cheese," she mumbled, burying her face deeper into my neck.
"Is it Gouda?" I asked, running my hand down her back. "Or Brie?"
She laughed, a muffled vibration against my skin.
I shifted, rolling slightly so I was hovering over her. I braced my weight on my elbow.
"Good morning, Lemon Queen," I said softly.
She finally opened her eyes. They were filled with a warmth that rivaled the sun.
"Good morning, Baker," she whispered.
I looked at her lips. They were pink and inviting.
I started to lean down. I closed my eyes, anticipating the contact.
Suddenly, a finger pressed against my lips.
I stopped. I opened my eyes.
Wanda was looking at me with a mixture of amusement and panic. Her index finger was firmly planted on my mouth.
"No," she said.
"No?" I asked against her finger.
"I have not brushed my teeth," she said seriously. "It is... morning."
I blinked. "So?"
"So," she insisted. "It is not... fresh. It is not romantic."
I looked at her. She was worried about morning breath. After everything we did last night? After sleeping tangled together like pretzels?
I reached up and gently wrapped my hand around her wrist. I pulled her hand away from my mouth.
"Wanda," I said, locking eyes with her. "I don't care."
"But… "
"I don't care about mint," I said. "And I don't care about fresh. I just want you."
I lowered my head and captured her lips.
She hesitated for a split second, surprised by my persistence and then she melted. Her arms came up, locking around my neck, pulling me down.
It tasted like sleep, warmth and her.
I deepened the kiss, shifting my weight so I was pressing her into the mattress.
My hand slid down her side, fingers tracing the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip, before cupping the heavy weight of her ass.
God, she was perfect. Soft where I was hard, curves made to fit against me like we'd been carved from the same damn stone.
"Mmm…" Her voice was thick with sleep, her thighs parting just a little as I settled between them, my cock nestling against the damp heat of her.
I could feel how wet she already was, her arousal slick against my shaft, and my hips rolled on their own, seeking friction.
"You're insatiable," she accused, but there was no real heat in it, not when her hips lifted, grinding against me, her pussy dragging against my cock in a slow glide.
"Only for you," I admitted, and it was the truth.
I dipped my head, capturing her mouth again in a deep kiss, my tongue sliding against hers with lazy confidence. She moaned into me, her fingers tightening in my hair, her body arching up to meet mine.
I groaned, my cock throbbing as she finally gave in, her mouth opening beneath mine, her tongue tangling with mine in a wet dance.
"You're impossible," she gasped against my lips, but her hands were already sliding down my back, her nails digging in as she pulled me closer, her thighs spreading wider.
"I'm yours," I corrected, and the way her pussy pulsed against my cock, told me she liked that far too much.
Our breaths mingled as I rocked my hips, my cock sliding through her folds, coating myself in her arousal.
She was so fucking wet, so ready for me, and I couldn't wait anymore. I reached between us, gripping my shaft, lining myself up with her entrance.
"Aryan… " My name was a plea on her lips, her hands clutching at my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin.
I surged forward in one smooth thrust, burying myself to the hilt in one stroke.
We both groaned, her walls clenching around me so tight it was almost painful. I stayed there for a moment, letting her adjust, my forehead pressed to hers, our breaths ragged.
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