An hour and three delicious orgasms later, we’re in the kitchen, and I’m sitting on Wilder’s lap, our half-eaten breakfast still on the table.
“Gonna be late,” he murmurs against my lips before kissing me again, his tongue tangling with mine. He tastes like coffee and the icing from the cinnamon roll he just inhaled.
My lip juts out in a mock pout, and he chuckles. “Fuck, you’re cute.”
“So maybe…” I wiggle my hips back and forth in his lap, and he chokes out a groan. “You can reschedule your meeting?” I’m well aware that he can’t and that he probably wouldn’t, even ifhe could, but teasing him is just so fun. “I’m sure Coach Taylor would understand.”
Wilder’s fingers curl into the soft spot at my hip, halting my movements, but I feel him already hard against my ass. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d understand that I’m canceling the meeting so I can stay home and give my college girlfriend my cock because she’s desperate and needy for it.”
Jesus, I’m going to combust.
“Girlfriend, huh?”
He lifts a shoulder. “You’re mine, Sunshine. However you wanna label that shit, you’re still mine. Call it whatever you want.”
“Mmmm, this needs celeb—” I start, but I’m interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. It vibrates beneath me in his pocket, and Wilder sighs.
Begrudgingly, I hop down from his lap and press my lips quickly to his. “Go do your coach things. I’m going to yoga, and then I have class until three.”
For a beat, he doesn’t move to answer his ringing phone or say anything at all, and I’m pretty sure it’s because he’sactuallyconsidering canceling the meeting.
The thought makes me grin.
This morning has felt so… domestic. Waking up with him, brushing our teeth side by side, having breakfast together.
God, I like it so much.
I walk over to the counter to start picking up the mess from breakfast when I hear him grunt from behind me, “What the fuck?”
I turn, and he’s staring down at his phone, his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping it.
His easy, relaxed demeanor from only moments ago is completely gone.
Now, he’s tense, his jaw impossibly tight, his shoulders coiled like a snake ready to strike.
“What’s wrong?”
Silence meets my question.
I set the pot holder back on the counter and cross the room to Wilder, but when I put my hand on his arm, he jerks away.
It startles me, so I jump back.
Only then does he look at me, glancing up from his phone for me to see pure rage shining in his stormy eyes.
“Wilder,” I whisper, my throat working nervously. “What’s going on? What happened?”
“My fucking piece-of-shit mother. That’s what happened,” he grits out, and I notice how quickly his chest is rising and falling, his nostrils flaring.
A menacing energy begins to seep out of him until it’s crackling through the air around us.
I step closer and look over at this phone screen, but I can’t see what’s happening.
“Fuck!” he bellows, his phone suddenly tossed down onto the kitchen table. “Motherfucker!”
“Wilder! Talk to me. What happened?” I yell back, which I realize may not help the situation, but I don’t understand what’s going on.
Has she reached out to him?
