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Chapter 10: Games & Grinds

“I just really don’t want to let you go…”

My heart skips.

For a second I think I’ve misheard Wyatt. It’s too good to be true, after all. And even if I don’t exactly understand which way he means it, I feel like I do – deep down anyway.

“Really?” I prompt with an incredibly weak voice. It’s barely audible. When I hear Wyatt’s heart pounding against his ribcage I lift up slightly so I can look him in the eye. The beardless parts of his face are kind of red, but that could be the vodka. “You don’t want me to go home?”

He purposefully avoids eye contact with me by setting blue orbs on a spot above my head. “Well yeah, something like that,” he mumbles.

Mental note… always get Wyatt as drunk as possible.

I lift my chin slightly until our eyes connect then I smile at his irritated expression. “Why?”

“Beats me,” he answers, pressing fists to his eyes and rubbing them hard. I feel like there’s more to it with this kind of reaction. “If I think of it… ugh,” he groans at the thought.

“Don’t think about it then,” I offer simply – still somewhat in awe of everything I’m witnessing. Wyatt’s eyes are bleary and unfocused as he removes his fists. The now free hand moves to my hair and he pulls through it in such a way that I think I’ll fall asleep if he does it again.

“Yeah, not really that simple,” he replies. “See what I mean about not thinking right? There’s just this gut reaction inside me that’s like, ‘No, I found him; I get to keep him’.”

The fact that Wyatt even wants me around at all is a huge surprise. There have been many moments over the past two days – more than I can count – that it felt like I was nothing but a tremendous, pack-ruining burden. But right now as I half-lay on his chest and stare down at him, I think just how lonely he must be; enough that even though he’s not used to physical contact, he lets me use his body as a comforting pillow.

All I know is that looking at such a tormented face sends reckless impulses through me left and right. I want to say anything to make it better.

“Finders keepers,” I joke, and it effectively lifts his beard into a light smile. I fight some tight knots in my stomach before continuing. “You’re just saying this because you feel lonely. You’ll get sick of me,” I guarantee.

“Probably,” he agrees – though I’m pretty sure he’s joking.

Once again his hand massages into my scalp and I lower my head to his chest and relax into his touch. It feels so good that I find that I don’t care how Wyatt sees me – puppy or bitch – when he pets me like a dog it’s the absolute greatest feeling in the world. At least, compared to the near constant pain and stress of a critical leg injury.

“I want to pet you too,” I say out of nowhere; the thought had just run through my mind when it forced its way out of my mouth.

Wyatt blinks hard.

The look on his face is almost as if he had no idea he was petting me in the first place, and is surprised to find his hand in my hair. Then he’s completely amused. “I dare you,” he challenges with a terrible grin.

I’m not prepared for how hard my heart starts pounding. There’s an immediate, alluring effect of that mischievous smile. The scope and focus on my small cabin world narrows completely to Wyatt and it’s like I have tunnel vision as I cautiously stretch out my arm. Honestly, it shouldn’t be a big deal. I combed through Wyatt’s beard less than an hour into meeting him. Yet, I’m reminded of the way I pet Canuck today – the feeling is similar to the immense anticipation I felt… it makes me shaky and my fingers twitch as I get close to his choppy brown locks.

At the very last moment, Wyatt turns his face to my arm and makes aggressive, dog-like noises. It’s not quite snarling or growling, but an odd combination of both and his mouth digs into my wrist as if he’s biting me.

It’s so completely unexpected that I actually shout with fear.

His teeth grind at my wrist like he’s ripping out the tendons and I can’t help the knee-jerk like reflex to try and rip it from him. In my attempts to get free, I sit up; but his hand has a strong grip on me and he keeps it to his mouth, shaking back and forth like Canuck.

If my heart was pounding before, it’s now hammering like mad from the sudden scare. At my uneasy look, he simply smiles and it clicks that he’s being playful.

Wyatt pounces. My wrist is still in his grip as he rolls me underneath him and pins me.

“W-wait, Wyatt!”

“I’m not Wyatt,” he sings. “I’m a big bad wolf.”

I choke out a nervous laugh because even though he’s definitely joking, he does look kind of wild as he exposes his teeth. Even though I know it’s useless, there’s no helping the instinct to struggle out of his hold as he hovers menacingly on top of me. Not only is my heart still having a severe attack, but I’m also extremely aware of my position underneath him.

It’s like I’m about to be made into his bitch a second time.

And incredibly, this thought renders me frozen stiff.

For the first time in my life, I experience my mind blanking. There’s just the image of Wyatt’s beard closing in on my throat and the alcohol-induced spinning made worse by how hard my heart is pumping blood through my body.

He’s still playing – there are actually no tongues or teeth but he digs his beard to my neck in that way he does when he tickles me and I gasp and laugh so hard that tears roll down the side of my face. I can’t concentrate on anything; I can’t even speak or try to tell him to stop.

Wyatt lifts up and gives me a satisfied look. “Gotcha.”

I stare blankly at him, panting to catch my breath. There’s no response from me as I simply try to collect myself. Then the way Wyatt suddenly looks concerned helps bring me back to the twisted reality I now live in.

“Hey, you okay, Calix? It was just a joke…”


“Too soon?”

These words are heavy and hard to process but after a few steady breaths, my brain turns back on.

“I’m – okay,” I confirm.

Wyatt doesn’t look like he believes me very much. He removes the grip on my wrists and unpins me, but makes no effort to climb off. Instead, he tilts his chin up a bit to expose his partially bearded neck. “You wanna get even?” he offers.

A swarm of butterflies release from the pit of my stomach and it’s unlike anything I’ve felt before. The swirling, nervous excitement is similar to doing too many backflips in a row on a trampoline. I can’t even fathom what he’s saying; it’s just too incredible.

My mouth? Near Wyatt’s neck?

“I-I can?” I ask, just to be sure, however I don’t wait for confirmation too long before starting to move.

“Less puppy, more wolf,” Wyatt laughs at my pleading stare. He must be stupidly drunk… but so am I. There are no inhibitions – no thoughts, worries, or impending consequences of following through on Wyatt’s offer.

And I really want to.

There’s no identifying reason… just a lot of little factors, like getting my pride back, that lead me to sit up and make an effort to push Wyatt’s hard body into the mattress.

He’s keeping up with his end of the joke, though. Normally there wouldn’t be enough strength in the world that I could muster to move him an inch – the fact that he allows me to even attempt pinning him shows just how committed he is to the game.

I look down at Wyatt as smugly as possible, but his grin still carries something dark with it.

“Go for it, I dare you,” he challenges again with another lift of his bearded chin.

A nauseating spin has me worried for a brief second. The brief, vivid image of going in for Wyatt’s throat - only to have him attack it last second – is enough to make me hesitate.

“C’mon,” he encourages, really emphasizing it as his throat stretches back enough that his Adam’s apple is practically bulging out.

It’s just a game.

There’s no way - even if he is tricking me - that he’d end up actually hurting me. So with this resumed confidence I give a short laugh – as evil as I can make it.

“Muahahaha, I’m the alpha now,” I boldly declare, steadying my leg as I adjust it over Wyatt’s torso. I put all of my weight on him to relieve some of the tension in the injured limb and bare my teeth in the same way he did to me. “And you’re going to be mybitch.”

“No, it’s so scary! I don’t waaaant to be your bitch!” His playful voice is as high-pitched as he can make it, and I almost break character to burst out laughing at the way his wrists pretend to struggle under my hold. I realize he’s mocking me, but I can’t take offense. I just use it as an opportunity to mock him right back.

“Shut up!” I growl as menacingly as I can – narrowing my eyes. “It’s going to happen whether you like it or not."

Wyatt laughs so hard he has to turn away for a second and I’m smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. I made him laugh. There’s something amazing about seeing him like this. He becomes impossibly good looking even when he snorts a bit. If he was attractive to begin with, then the alcohol has only enhanced all of his features. It’s not even an odd thought - just a fact; he’s really handsome.

I can’t stop staring as Wyatt regains composure from his giggling fit. There must be an awestruck kind of look on my face because he just rolls his eyes.

“Earth to Calix – this happening or what?”

The smallest bit of authoritative tone in his voice is enough to snap me back into character. With the butterflies and nerves from before essentially gone, I act on the opportunity before I can overthink it anymore - opening my mouth wide and leaning in.

I draw closer and closer to a bearded neck – expecting Wyatt to trick me last second. When my teeth are basically pressed against his jugular, he’s completely still and I’m not sure what to do. I’d been sure he would have stopped me…

At the idea he’s actually giving me the green light, an excited rush sweeps over me and my teeth bite down a little before I can think about it.

“Ow,” he says – but for some reason that just makes me want to sink my teeth in even more. I adjust my jaw, stretching a little to reach the sensitive, un-bearded flesh under his ear, and bite down again. “Ow – fuck!” he repeats – though he’s still not making any effort to stop me. If he wanted to, I’m sure he would be able to shot-put me across the room. “Take it easy, Calix.”

I can’t help snickering into his neck. I’m probably completely crazy with power, but honestly, getting even is much better than I expected. Even if it’s pretend, there’s an immense satisfaction in taking advantage of his lowered guard.

“What are you going to do about it, bitch?” I tease, lifting up slightly so I can see his reaction.

His lips are in a very tight, firm line and his blue eyes have a fire sparked behind them. I can tell immediately he’s not happy, and his expression is so challenging I want to keep testing him. Deep down I want to end this game the only way that’s right, which is for Wyatt to win. So I’ll keep on pushing his buttons until it happens.

“That’s what I thought,” I finish, going in for the other side of his neck.

He doesn’t try to stop me. In fact, he helps by turning his chin and giving me access. This time, as my teeth connect with his flesh, I can feel his pulse hammering behind the enamel. As I apply soft bites, I can’t help but notice Wyatt’s being incredibly silent. Plus, there’s a sort of electricity in the air that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

I must have missed something.

But I’m too drunk to figure it out.

I give one final, hard bite to the spot above Wyatt’s collarbone before he finally snaps.

“That one hurt,” he growls, sitting up so easily that I almost topple off him. Thankfully he’s not angry enough to let me go flying to the floor and he wraps an arm around my back to keep me steady in his lap.

I offer him an apologetic look – as puppy dog as I can make it – and watch the fire in his eyes simmer a bit. It’s incredible how I never noticed this weakness. I’d been too busy fighting how much he treats me like a dog – when in fact, I should have been holding onto it and using it to combat his crazy alpha-ness.

A terrible impulse encourages me to start now.

“I’ll make it better,” I promise, going in for his neck before he can stop me. There’s really no thought to it. I run my tongue along the hard bite and feel Wyatt tense underneath me. Just in case he tries to pry me off, I wrap my arms around him and start lapping at the wound with all I have.

“That’s… enough Calix,” he says – but in a weak kind of murmur that holds absolutely no power.

It’s really exciting.

My head spins when I think I’m making Wyatt lose his composure. The need to do more is overwhelming and I hold on tighter; flattening my tongue along his throat over and over. His skin has a distinct taste – kind of salty but also kind of sweet – it reminds me of the first night; how he carried me on his back… smelling something similar…

I’ve gone way too far and it’s made clear as Wyatt grips my arms and pulls them off with an excessively strong hold.

"I said enough. Game’s over.”

These words trigger the heaviest sinking feeling I’ve ever experienced. I don’t even try to pull my arms out of Wyatt’s hold; I simply frown and attempt to read his expression. It’s hard-set, but also carries something with it I can’t put my finger on. Plus, he’s not really moving me off him – or saying anything else for that matter.

“Are you mad?”

“You’ll know when I am.”

That’s true enough so I relax slightly and try wiggling my arms to test the wicked grip he has on me. Wyatt’s face is still kind of red but whether he’s embarrassed, drunk, or hot under the collar, I can’t be sure. All I can relate it to is the way he tongue-raped my throat yesterday and how heated I got too. Enough to get hard and lose myself a bit…

Maybe just a taste of being alpha has gone to my head. There’s no conscious decision to do it as I slide forward in his lap and test his current condition with a small grind.

“You’re gross,” I tease, smiling wide for emphasis as I press down on his tented crotch. Those butterflies release again and each one sends a warm thrill down to my toes – back up to my head – as I watch Wyatt’s face pull into a wince. “Been a long time or what?”

I’m given a sharp, dangerous look from him – but I don’t want to bother with it. His parted lips and flushed face entice me to stir him up even more… get totally even… but not just that – take complete control of him.

Another small grind is all it takes for him to break a little.

“Shit,” he mutters, releasing my arms and letting his back hit the mattress again. I’m left straddling him from above and there’s a massive sweep of satisfaction at the way he gives in. It’s all I can focus on.

“What’s up? You like this?” I torment with a very cruel twist of my hips – eyes focused on Wyatt. I don’t want to miss so much as one blink from him and sure enough he hisses at the way I rub our denim together.

When I give a laugh at his silence, he stares up at me and that’s all it takes to ground me a little. What started as an impulse to put Wyatt in his place basically sent me straight through the roof with power hungry greed. Suddenly, with a wave of vodka making me dizzy, I wonder just what the hell I’m doing on top of him like this.

I go to swing my good leg off but Wyatt catches me last second. Both of his hands settle on my hips and he gives a rough pull to ensure I’m sliding against his erection again.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” he asks, voice so husky it sends a terrifying hot flash through my body. Even worse is the way that he’s angling my pelvis so my crotch makes contact with his.

“Wait – I-I was just playing around,” I begin with a squeak as his hips lift. The effect of the friction is immediate, and my own dick is stirring to life with a rush of blood.

He doesn’t seem to care for my explanation. Bushy eyebrows sink in a serious kind of way, making his blue eyes pop as he grips tighter and tries to rock me back and forth.

“Stop… Wyatt I –”

“Shut up and start moving,” he interrupts.

I know – as husky as his voice is – that his tone is a serious one. I work through another dizzying spin, shaking a suddenly light head at the outrageous demand. Wyatt doesn’t see it anyway; his eyes are zeroed in on our crotches. One particularly hard grind has a noise escaping from me, and Wyatt’s teeth rip at his bottom lip.

"Move,” he repeats again and my body acts on his command before my mind can debate it. In fact, I’ve stopped thinking altogether. “You’re gonna finish what you started.” The harder I grind into him, the hornier I get and it’s a dangerous combination of heat, alcohol and hormones that make me suddenly desperate for pleasure; overlooking any will to question just what the hell we’re doing.

At my cooperation, Wyatt loosens the grip he has on me. His hands slide under my shirt – thumbing the waistline of my jeans – and the direct touch is explosive.

“You? Alpha? Gimme a break.”

I completely forget to breathe.

His bare hands are so rough. They’re calloused and hard from labour; they almost hurt as he runs them up my body. There’s no way I can tell him to stop though. I don’t have that authority. The way he’s touching – the way he’s tilting his head slightly like Canuck as he admires my skin – it’s almost like he’s doing this experimentally with complete fascination.

As my head gets lighter and lighter, it’s hard to keep upright. I have to press my hands into Wyatt’s chest for balance and when my vision swims, I momentarily stop moving. Before I can voice how I can’t keep going, Wyatt tightens his hold and switches our places effortlessly. I experience a terrible spin as I’m flipped over, but with my back on the mattress now, gravity isn’t pulling me down and making me weaker than I already am.

I stare up at Wyatt through my lashes and doing so makes me melt. He turns me into useless goo at the way he’s looking down at me. Blue eyes – intense as ever – are in sharp contrast to his rosy cheeks as he hovers over me, unmoving.

Even though it should be impossible to get any hotter, there’s a really sick heat building in my crotch – dick throbbing and trying to take over again. I can’t wait any longer, so I lift my chin up; prompting Wyatt to do his worst.

He takes the bait. In a second, he’s at my throat like an animal again and Wyatt’s beard is igniting my oversensitive skin as he digs in and starts mouthing. I can barely keep up with all the thrills and sensations shooting to my member; it’s absolutely unbearable without the contact of grinding and it’s only getting worse the way Wyatt sucks in my ear and bites.

Plus, his knee is disappointingly far away. I can’t even attempt to rub myself on it, so I settle for pressing my palm onto my hardening bulge for some fucking badly needed relief.

It’s apparently way too much. The intense pleasure of my own contact makes me gasp – for a moment I am dead sure I came in my jeans. There’s a pulsing, sort of wet, sensation filling my underwear but it can’t be right. I’m still hard, horny and desperate for more.

“You’re gross,” Wyatt hisses into my bitten ear, echoing my tease from earlier. The warm breath does absolutely nothing but make me leak even more precum and I use my free hand to pull Wyatt’s neck and draw him into me. I want his mouth on my neck – ear – lips – all over my fucking body. “Stop – liking it – so much,” he murmurs between open mouthed kisses he trails along my jaw.

“But… it feels – good, Wy-att,” I manage.

I’m rewarded with his rough hand on my body again. It makes me squirm underneath him as he runs it up to my chest – grabbing at my tight skin as if trying to find breasts.

“Feels good to be such a bitch?” he asks.


There’s no offense taken because I don’t care anymore. If it means I get Wyatt’s attention – if it means I can cum – I’ll say or do anything he wants. I just want to make him happy. I just want him to like me. Even a little bit. I just want to drown myself in his affection.

My obedience sets him off.

Wyatt lifts off me and I can’t help the way I dig fingers into his neck to try and stop him. He simply tosses my hand away and gives me enough space to follow through on his next command.

“Turn over.”

I scramble onto my stomach as fast as I can manage with my injured leg. My cock appreciates the contact with the mattress, but I am still so overwhelmed with heat and desire, I can barely process what I’ve actually done until Wyatt pulls down my jeans with a sharp tug; they don’t stand a chance against his strength.

He doesn’t pull them off completely, just lowers them enough to expose the tight briefs I’m wearing.

By the time he lowers some of his weight on top of me, I’ve totally lost myself.

I’m not Calix.

Calix wouldn’t let this happen.

Calix wouldn’t lift his ass up so easily and let another man press a bulge against it; he wouldn’t let out a whine as his dick becomes so unbearably hard he has to reach a hand underneath him and jack-off.

Thankfully I don’t spend a lot of time debating what true Calix would or wouldn’t do. I’m totally focused on how absolutely amazing the heat of Wyatt’s crotch feels as he stirs a hard dick against the fabric of my underwear.

"Mmgh fuuuck Calix… you’re making me crazy… you know that?”

“Y-you were… crazy before…”

But he’s gone totally crazy this time - and he’s taken me with him as he grinds his dick against me with a ruthless kind of lust. I inhale sharply and can’t resist stroking the outline of my cock through my underwear; making things way too sticky but getting so close to a glorious climax I can practically feel it coming.

“W-Wyatt,” I say, shaking like a leaf as he really starts grinding. At his name, he leans over to kiss the back of my neck. The feeling of him sucking so softly combined with his ticklish beard sends millions of goosebumps all over my body… it’s really to die for.

Whether he knows it or not, he’s steadily rolling his hips and groaning into my neck. I release the tension and relax completely, letting him hump at my body like it’s all I’m good for. It’s not even weird – it’s actually the best feeling in the world; the feeling ofbeing wanted.

“Fuck… Calix… I’m gonna cum,” he growls in a low voice, almost like he’s amazed at this fact. Wyatt slams his hips against me so hard I can practically feel the length of his cock as it slides along my ass.

It makes my head swim and balls tighten as a beautiful pleasure – more powerful than I’ve ever experienced – washes over and brings me to the brink of orgasm. The only thoughts are reckless ones coming from somewhere deep and primal; like wantingWyatt to cum on me – wanting him to feel as amazing as I do no matter the cost.

“M-me… too.”

My climax is so forceful that I’m only aware my whole body is shaking when Wyatt grips my ass and holds it still so he can dry-fuck it as much as he wants to. I close my eyes and see stars as cum shoots through my dick and fills my underwear in waves, each more intense than the last.

The pleasure wipes my mind of everything and I let a spinning darkness take hold.

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