“It might hurt.”
“I think that’s part of the fun.”
I run my fingertips along the left strap. They’re not as tight as I thought they’d be. I pull it back and give it a playful snap, butthey just kind of spring back into place harmlessly. I try again, pulling harder, but it’s like the more tension I give it, the less violently it reacts.
“What are these made out of?” I ask.
“I have no idea,” he says with a laugh. “Not enough elastic, obviously.”
I claw one off his shoulder frantically and then go for the other. He’s supporting himself on his right arm, and I can’t get it off fast enough. I unclip it from his pants instead. I shimmy down, running my hands along his hard abs and savoring the feel of his silky skin over all that hard muscle.
His pants surprise me all over again with how soft they are. I get the button undone easily and then glide the loooooonnnnngggggg zipper down. I get it down halfway and stick my hand in, just to make sure I’m not going to cause an accident with any of Wilder’s bits and, err, bags, when I’m unzipping. I’m glad I paused because it’s clear I was right about him not wearing underwear.
“That’s quite naughty.” I can’t force my voice into something that comes across as properly scandalized in a bad way.
“Going without is quite freeing. I’m enjoying making it a habit.”
I carefully unzip his pants the rest of the way. He shifts, gets a knee between my legs to brace himself, and lets me maneuver them down. When I tug a little bit too hard, he wavers above me.
“We should readjust,” I say.
“Boss me around. Tell me what you want. I’m at your service.”
He’s about to be serviced. By me. Because I want to so freaking badly that I’m going to lose my mind. I’m two seconds away from being out of control. I like the heady feeling. I’m not the kind of person who finds it easy to give up the hard fought battle with control, and letting my guard down is difficult at best. But here I am, craving it and needing it. It’s exhilarating. I need more.
“Flip us around.” I want to be manhandled by him again. “So I’m the one on top.” His hands position themselves on my hips, but I have another idea. “Actually, can you let me up? I really want to be on my knees for this.”
He groans. “I think we both know I have a hair-trigger reflex when it comes to this.”
“That’s okay. You can come on me, or down my throat, or wherever you want. Just please do. I need you.”
“You don’t have to do that for me,” he rasps.
“I’m doing it for you, but I’m also doing it for me. I want to drive myself right to the brink before I take you inside me.”
“God. Jesus. Hold on. I’m going to need a second.”
“Can you take the second while I get on my knees?”
The noise he makes sounds like a gator in some kind of distress, but he shifts off me and offers his hand like a gentleman to help me up. There’s a good chance I have no notion of any noises gators make, distressed or otherwise.
I don’t think I have to return a favor or that he’s one up on me in the oral department. That’s not why I’m arranging myself down here on the floor in front of him, reaching into his pants as he stands, and taking out his engorged cock. From the bottom of my wildest dreams and extremely out-of-control hormones, I truly want to do this. I just hope I do it right. I know I’m older than him, but it’s not like I have a wealth of experience when it comes to this. I don’t want it to be like a science experiment that I try to figure out as I go.
I bring my face close to his groin, my other hand bracing by curling around to grasp his ass. I breathe him in deeply, stroking my hand down his length. The tip of his cock looks like how I feel. Swollen, painful, and seriously needy. I tip my face up and look into his. The storm of emotion there, the immediate way his features soften, the slight blush on his cheekbones, the dimple that appears as he smiles slowly but deeply—all of it speakssafety to me. It doesn’t matter if I’m bad at this. He’s going to enjoy the hell out of it because it’s me. It’s the most intimate thing two people can do for each other. Be naked and vulnerable and let someone else have control of your body to please you. In my case, I had no idea half the things Wilder did to me last time were even possible.
I want more of it. More discovery with him, more safety, more homecoming, more of a perfect fit, and more surprises. We’re the last thing we ever thought could work, but I want it to.
I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything, even in all the past iterations of my wanting him. None of it compares to this moment right now. This one is real. We’re real. We’re genuine. We’re true. We both might have to fight like hell to make it work, but I’m no longer afraid. I’ll make it work. End of. It’s just him and me right now. It hasn’t always been, and maybe it won’t always be, but we have this moment and all the other moments we care to create, and that’s more than enough.
Chapter fourteen
Wilder
“You’re not wearing any underwear again,” Carissa whispers from down on her knees, her face tipped back, her hair spilling over her shoulder, and her eyes blown wide. “Have you developed an aversion to them?”
She holds the base of my cock so gently. Even when she strokes up the length of me with her hand clenched tight, she’s still careful. Not tentative. Almost… reverent.
“I like the irony of not wearing them.”
