Page 76 of Stay Wild Darlin’

All I could think about was that thick cock, what it would feel like this time—seeing it, touching it, tasting it.

I wanted my boss desperately. Maybe that would ruin everything, but in that moment, my body was driving me forward, my thoughts taking a back seat.

The door shut behind me with a heavy click, and the second we were alone, his presence wrapped around me like a second skin.

“Cora . . .”

He didn’t even blink. Already pulling out his phone, he typed quickly and hit Send.

“Texted Fable. She’s asleep.” His eyes flicked back to mine, full of heat. “You’re mine.”

I didn’t have time to respond before his hands were on me. Gripping my waist. Sliding under my top like he owned my body already. His fingers weren’t gentle—they were hungry.

“I’ve been thinking about this all fucking day,” he growled against my neck. “That tank top. No bra. Do you even know what you did to me?”

His fingers curled at the hem and tugged the fabric up. “Tell me, Poppy. If I pull this up . . . am I gonna find you bare underneath?”

I gasped, heat flooding between my thighs.

“Because I wanna see it,” he murmured. “Wanna feel it. I want your tits in my mouth. Let me taste you, darlin’. Let me ruin you right here.”

My knees nearly gave out.

He slid one hand around to my front, fingertips brushing over my stomach, lower. I was already trembling.

“I-I have small breasts, Dalton,” I breathed, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He stopped instantly.

“Don’t you ever say that shit to me again.” He warned me. “Your body is perfect. Mine. Your tits? I’m gonna worship them. Suck them. Bite them. Watch you squirm and beg me to stop, then beg me to keep going.” He gripped my chin and tilted my face up to his. “Show me, Poppy. Show me what a good girl you are.” He dropped his hands to my hips. “Pull your top down. Make my dream come true. Let me see you walk around in my fucking hat with nothing underneath like a needy little slut.”

My whole body lit on fire.

I slid the tank top straps down my shoulders, past my hips. My nipples tightened instantly. His eyes darkened like I’d stripped the whole fucking world away.

“Darlin’,” he groaned, like the sight hurt.

One moment, he was frozen, the next, he was reaching out, hands rough and sure, tugging at my nipples. He dipped his head, his mouth ghosting over one breast, and I watched as the man I’d called my boss for months dropped to his knees in front of me.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my leggings.

“Let me cherish you,” he murmured. “Let me worship at your altar. You deserve it, Poppy—for everything you do. For everything you are.”

Tears burned my eyes.

No one had ever said anything like that to me.

I couldn’t even speak, so I nodded and let him pull the leggings down—my underwear with them—until I stood before him, completely exposed.

“I—uh,” I started, flustered. “I didn’t shave. Or wax. I wasn’t . . . I didn’t know we were gonna⁠—”

He cut me off with a sound that was pure hunger.

“Fucking hell.” He gripped my hips. “You think I give a damn about that?”

He dipped forward, his mouth grazing me like I was the only thing that could satisfy whatever had been clawing inside him all night. I gasped, my knees almost buckling.

He groaned, then lifted my leg over his shoulder.