Page 20 of And Forever (The Riders and Rings Duology #2)

CHARLOTTE

COEUR D’ALENE, IDAHO — AUGUST

W ilder shuffles on his knees between my legs, centering himself in front of my dripping core.

The daybed swing sways with the motion, but it’s large enough I don’t worry that we’ll fall off.

His cock stands painfully erect, a bead of pre-cum on the tip as he holds it in one hand, stroking slowly.

I lick my lips, wishing I could taste him, but right now I’m impatient to have him inside me.

The way he talked about my body, destroying every insecurity and moment of shyness I had with kisses and compliments, left me desperate.

It hasn’t been easy to be confident this last month, and it’s only my own mind that has led me to believe that Wilder cared about the changes having Winona brought.

I shouldn’t have let them catch up with me tonight—not on a night when we’ve started to bare our souls as much as ourselves—but I couldn’t help it when he stripped me and stared.

Now, as Wilder slides his shaft between my folds, coating himself in my arousal, I know he’s prepared to erase all those thoughts. The first brush of him against me practically has my toes curling. I try to reach for him, but he’s too far away.

“Squeeze those gorgeous tits for me, baby.” His direction is exactly what I need to keep myself from crawling out of my skin from anticipation. Wilder looks to where he’s still gliding along my sensitive flesh. “Always so wet and ready for me.”

“Yes,” I breathe, lifting my hips to try and get him where I need him.

With a smile, he gives me what I want, notching at my entrance and thrusting forward with agonizing self-control.

The usual stretch feels more intense when Wilder leans over me, caging my body in with his own.

He captures my lips with a searing kiss just as he bottoms out, and the fullness in my body and my heart nearly overwhelms me.

I wrap my legs around him, holding him inside me, and thread my fingers through his hair.

We exist in the kiss that’s slowed to reflect the affection and devotion we have for each other.

“Going to move now,” Wilder whispers against my lips, and I nod enthusiastically, dropping my feet to give him room.

“I love you, Charlotte,” he says, pulling his hips back and pushing forward again, setting a lazy pace.

We both groan at the delicious friction, and I gasp when the base of his cock rubs against my sensitive clit.

“Right there,” he drops his head to the crook of my neck, whispering dirty words and praise, coiling the heat low in my belly tighter.

“God, I want to stay inside you forever. Fill you again and again. Need to see it next time.”

His thrusts pick up. Harder. Faster. I grip his shoulders and lift to match each of his downward movements, the implication of Wilder’s words building my orgasm more rapidly than ever before. He recognizes the change, bracing on his elbows to look at me.

“Do you like that idea as much as I do?” I nearly shudder at the dark look in his eyes and the crooked grin he gives me.

I nod, not trusting my voice. The sound that escapes him is more primal growl than pleasured moan.

“Yeah, going to fucking give you another baby. Watch the way you grow round this time.” He adds that unique circle of his hips at the end of his thrusts to grind against my clit.

I can feel the flutters in my pussy and know I’m close.

But as I listen to Wilder’s breathing become punctuated by grunts, I know he is, too.

“Yes, Wild, please,” I encourage, barely holding back, my legs shaking from the effort. But I won’t let go until he does. I need us to fall apart together. “I want that. Need all of you.”

“Fuck, Charlie, I’m going to fucking come.” He’s watching me closely, waiting for the exact moment I tip over the edge. “Be so deep you’ll feel me tomorrow. Come with me, baby. Let me feel you wring every drop from this cock. Going to give you all of it.”

We explode in shouts of completions and a shower of sparks at the corner of my vision.

I float in the feeling, wrapping my arms around him, pulling him closer.

His body is a pleasant weight on me, but he manages to keep from crushing me by staying aloft on his elbows.

His head collapses on my shoulder, kissing me there gently.

He imprints words of love into my skin between each touch of his lips.

I can barely make out what he says, but they probably match the nonsensical declarations I whisper into his ear between shuddering breaths.

Delicately, Wilder rises and extracts himself from my hold.

Despite the boneless high I want to stay in, reality comes back in waves, and I recognize we likely need to get off the porch.

The pillows that filled the swing are now scattered along the deck, and I’m only just accepting that the swoopy feeling in my stomach might be due to the motion of the swing.

I lift to my own elbows but freeze when I see Wilder unmoving and staring at me, a soft smile on his face.

“What is it?”

“I know it’s highly unlikely, and there are more than a few conversations to have, but I wasn’t lying.

” His clear blue eyes flick between my face and where I can feel us leak out from between my legs.

“If you ever want to, I really would love to have more kids with you. It’s part of what I see when I close my eyes. ”

Suddenly, trying to get into the house and cleaning up are the last things on my mind. Instead, I stretch my arms out, needing every inch of Wilder’s skin against mine again.

Idaho summers are something I didn’t know I missed.

The dappled sunlight through the trees on our walks around the property.

The cool evening breeze. The endless blanket of stars in the night sky.

They’re the same ones I see in Montana, but here, they feel like mine.

As Wilder comes down the stairs, black joggers and wet hair from the shower, I smile and amend my thought: they feel like ours.

In the two days we’ve been here, our little family has settled into a comfortable, easy routine.

Wilder’s shown us every part of the property, and he’s smiled through sharing ideas of what he wants to add.

Hearing how he wants to incorporate a play structure and playhouse off the back porch for Winona only adds to my conviction that I’m making the right decision to lean into this.

My parents might not be happy with me for leaving the ranch again, but I’m not afraid of it this time. I’m not running from it; from the oppressive obligation and the unbearable guilt I carried as a teenager. This time, I’m running to something.

Someone.

“She’s finally asleep.” Wilder waves the monitor as he crosses into the cozy living room where I’m seated on the plush stone-colored couch.

He drops down into the soft comfort, depositing the speaker on the coffee table.

“Took a few extra stories tonight, and lots of cuddles, but she finally gave in.”

“This is really exciting for her,” I offer, trying to understand Winona’s resistance to bedtime.

We spent the bulk of the day painting flowers on the side of the barn while Wilder worked inside, then took a long walk out to the pond and back.

She should be just as exhausted as I am, but toddler energy reserves never cease to amaze me .

“It’s all right, I don’t mind the extra work.” He stretches his arms over his head, the hem of his shirt riding up enough to flash a sliver of skin. It’s hard not to feel drawn to it, but I rationalize that we can keep our hands to ourselves for one night.

Wilder catches me looking and gives me a cocky grin.

I hit him with the throw pillow. “Hey!” He bats it away, taking hold of my wrists and pulling me down to lie across his chest. I don’t fight it, content to relax in his arms, drawing nonsensical patterns over his ribs when he releases his hold.

“We probably should have at least brought Rooney, though. The horses always keep her busy and help her fall asleep.”

“If Rooney came, Vesper would have had to as well. He just isn’t the same without her,” I sigh, thinking about the pair.

When I first came home and gave up rodeoing, I considered selling Vesper.

Not because I didn’t love her, but because she wasn’t ever truly mine .

Not in the way Rooney was. She showed up at a time in my life I wasn’t expecting her.

Even when I quickly came to recognize how much I needed her, she also reminded me so much of Wilder that it ached.

They shared an effervescent attitude, a quiet determination, and an ease of living I didn’t have—that Rooney didn’t have.

But in that long winter of loneliness, I learned that she and Rooney made each other better.

So I kept them together, giving them the happy ending I thought I could never have.

Wilder’s hand comes up to stroke along the back of my head, his fingers threading through the loose strands of my hair. It’s soothing, and I hum happily at his touch. “I understand how he feels.” He chases the sweet words with a kiss to my crown.

Our quiet bubble is interrupted by the vibration of my phone on the end table.

Wilder reaches over his shoulder to hand it to me.

It’s not so late that I’m surprised to be hearing from anyone—even if I’ve already spoken to my parents and Ada today—but the message sitting on the screen is from the last person I expect.

UNCLE TIM

Hear you’re in Coeur D’Alene from your mom. Got a rodeo happening tomorrow night. Thought you might want to show that little pipsqueak of yours what you used to get up to. Wouldn’t mind seeing you myself. I’ll leave your name at the entrance, come find me if you decide to show up.

“Huh,” I manage to say, sitting up next to Wilder with uncertainty and curiosity churning my gut.

“What is it?”

“Tim’s got a rodeo in town tomorrow night. He’s leaving me tickets if I want to go.” As I turn the screen so Wilder can read the message, he pales slightly, but tries to cover it with a quick grin.

“Win ever been to one before?” His voice is tight, but he keeps the smile on his face.

I shake my head. “She’s talked about it—asked a few times.”

“Then I’ll finally get to be here for one of her firsts! Let’s do it, baby.”

I don’t trust the false cheer in his tone.

The only other time I’ve seen Wilder look this uncomfortable, this full of unease, was during our third episode of Murder, We Heard on the way to Calgary.

He looks like the horrible events in those stories are happening right in front of his eyes.

I drop my phone next to the monitor and slide myself as close to him as I can.

“Have you been to one since Vegas?” I ask quietly, taking one of his rough, calloused hands between mine. It’s clammy and tense.

“No,” he confesses, blowing out a pained exhale. “I’ve talked about it with Adam, in our sessions, but I haven’t set foot on any rodeo grounds since…”

“Yeah,” I offer, saving him from finishing the sentence. “We don’t have to go.”

“It’s okay,” Wilder begins, and I squeeze his hand, looking at him with concern. He leans forward, a rough kiss landing on my forehead, right where my eyebrows pinch. “Really, Charlie. I can do this. I want to take Win.”

Before I can say anything else, he shuffles us into a lounged position among the cushions. He runs his hand up and down my back in a motion that I can’t decide whether it's meant to soothe me or reassure himself.

We haven’t spoken about Travis Frost. Now, as I lie with Wilder, my eyes travel across the room to the hook behind the front door. A brown Resistol hat that hangs there, and I know we can’t avoid this much longer.