Page 38

CHAPTER 37

JUST LIKE THAT

CASS

I am a wild, feral thing, wiggling against the shaft of Wilder’s cock where it’s nestled between my pussy lips. I have no idea where we are exactly—my eyes are squeezed shut, and what attention isn’t on his hot cock is on our lips. My hands are splayed on each side of his face, mouths a seam, open wide, tongues deep. I hear the truck door shut, feel when he lets one ass cheek go so he can open the side door, then the slam when he kicks it shut again.

It isn’t until my bare ass hits the island countertop that I open my heavy lids. The room is dark but for the shafts of moonlight slanting in from the windows. Wilder is everywhere. His lips trail down my neck, his hips between my thighs, and I shift, whimpering, hoping to catch the tip. But still, he denies me, working his way down my chest to the neckline of my dress.

“Too many buttons,” he murmurs. And then, just like with my tights, he fists the fabric and pulls. Buttons fly off, pinging against the tile, my breasts jostling from the force before spilling out of the fabric.

His groan sends a hungry flex to my pussy.

“My dress,” I mutter halfheartedly.

“Fuck the dress,” he says, making his way up my body, cupping one breast, breath hot against my skin. “I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a fucking closet’s worth.”

When he draws my nipple into his mouth, it’s my turn to groan. His tongue flicks, his teeth grazing the tip—my hips twitch and flex from the contact.

“Please,” I moan, my hands scrabbling for his cock.

The motherfucker lets me go instead and steps back.

I reel, lust drunk and blinking. He’s cast in shadows, his brows low and chest heaving, his eyes drinking me in, from my tangled hair to my swollen lips, down to the ruins of my dress, my heavy breasts with their pebbled tips. My legs are still spread, and I can’t even imagine what my tights look like or how they frame my pussy. By the way he licks his lips, I imagine it’s quite the view.

This is confirmed when he fists his cock and strokes.

“Go get in bed, wife.”

The words are fire, eating up all the air. Breathlessly, I slide off the counter, but when my boots hit the ground, my knees almost give out. As I walk to the bedroom, I undo enough buttons that what’s left of my dress slides off my hips and down my legs. When I step over it, I offer Wilder a look, thinking I’m sly. But he’s stalking behind me, his cock still in hand, and I realize that I have no power here. It all belongs to him.

Doesn’t mean I can’t tease him a little though.

I crawl onto the bed and stay just like that—on all fours, bare pussy pointed right at him.

“Like this?” I ask breathlessly, unable to mask the challenge in my voice.

His eyes lock between my legs as he approaches, grabbing an ass cheek in each hand to squeeze, spread, stroke.

And then it’s his lips on my lower back as his finger slips into me, then out, soaked and circling my clit.

“On your back,” he orders, but I don’t move until his hand disappears.

Panting, I lay down and he grabs my ankles, dragging me toward him until my ass is on the edge. But he only lets one leg go, turning his attention to the one still in his hand.

“When I woke up this morning, I didn’t think my day would end inside you,” he says, untying my boot and loosening the laces. “I didn’t think I’d taste you on my lips or hear the sound of you coming.” He grabs one heel and pulls, and my boot hits the ground with a heavy thump, the sound nearly as loud as my pulse as I watch him hinge to pick up my other ankle and get to work. “I didn’t think I’d get to lose myself in your pussy, didn’t even once consider I’d hear you say you changed your mind .”

Off comes the other boot with that deep, solid thump. And I watch hungrily as he kicks off his boots, reaches over his shoulder to grab his shirt and pull it off. When he rids himself of his jeans, he meets my eyes, I feel the thundering of my heart skitter across my skin, the vibration rippling out from deep in my chest.

He forces my legs apart with his, reaches to hook his fingers in the waistband of my tights, and I lift so he can pull them off, slipping them down my legs with tender care.

I can barely breathe. There are no words outside of the words that leave his mouth

“In my wildest dreams, I always have you. But never in my wildest dreams did I think you’d be mine.”

The tender way he says it pricks my nose and the corner of my eyes, squeezing my throat. He’s standing between my knees when he drops to his, hooking the backs and pulling until my ass hangs off the bed. A rough, calloused hand skims the crook of my thigh, then across my hood, where he strokes.

“You take care of everybody, Cass. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.” He’s descending, so close now that the words brush the rippling flesh only a beat before his lips close over my clit.

There’s no time to argue his point or beg him to let me take care of him. Because as he devours me, I slowly come unraveled. Second by second, by lick and by suck, I feel myself let go. Give in. My resolve floats away, and I breathe for the first time, freed by the safety and care of the man who’d been here all this time, waiting for me.

I shift and wriggle against his relentless tongue, the pressure crushing and building and racing toward his lips. But he doesn’t stop, not until I’m moaning and writhing, his head clamped between my thighs, locked tight so he’ll finish what he started. The hot rise of it sizzles against my awareness, eating it up until there’s nothing left but the pleasure and pressure and persistence of my orgasm.

The detonation consumes me as I come in his mouth, all over his lips, against his wicked tongue before he releases my pussy from his hold.

I’m panting, my breasts heaving in the moonlight, and he’s kissing the inside of my thigh, inside my hip, his hands skimming across my ribs toward my back.

“Come here, babe,” he whispers, and my banging heart skips a painful beat. The bed is low enough that when I manage to drag myself upright, I fold him easily into my arms, sliding into his. Our lips and tongues and breaths meet in a slow, hot kiss. The iron heat of his cock brushes my leg, and I hook my legs around his, using the leverage to get closer to it.

He breaks the kiss. Peers into my face with wonder. Brushes my hair from my cheek with a gentle sweep of his hand, his eyes following the motion. Our gazes meet for a silent, still moment, unspoken words hanging between us in the night.

When he kisses me, he says them all, pouring them into me. Deeper, our tongues seek, hard and urgent until we’re breathless and noisy and insistent, his shaft nestled between the lips of my pussy. With a masterful shift, the tip of his cock presses the slick center of me, nudging and nuzzling and teasing until, still on his knees, he pumps his hips, his cock sliding into me.

I break the kiss with a gasp, my mouth hanging open. My jaw rests in his hand, his lips trailing down my neck, but I can’t catch my breath. I am too full of Wilder to breathe, desperately relieved, undeniably urgent, the length of him stretching and pressing and choking me from within.

The memory of this feeling becomes knowledge, a hundred flickering images of the past drawing together to meet right here, right now.

And he hasn’t even moved yet.

His thumb slips into my mouth, and my lids flutter closed as his cock retreats, advancing again with a thrust. Twin moans rumble from our throats. He fucks me slowly, the world glassy and shimmery and far away, and somewhere inside, I’m lost in the drive of his hips, the heat of his lips. I don’t know how long it’s been when he drives into me and stays there, picking me up once secured by his massive arm. I gasp my surprise into his mouth and feel him smile against mine as he turns to sit on the edge of the bed.

His lips brush my collarbone, his cock deep inside me. I rock, hips swaying, and he pulses, constrained by the sheath of my pussy.

“Mmm,” I hum. From my seat in his lap, I can feel every heartbeat, every flutter of his cock. “I feel you throb inside me.”

He growls, nipping my shoulder. “Because you feel so fucking good.”

Another throb, and my pussy flexes in answer. “We should have left the carnival hours ago.”

His quiet chuckle is hot against my skin. My breast filling his hand, he answers by lowering his lips to lave my nipple.

The grind of my hips deepens on their own, needing him more, the feel of him too much, not enough.

“God I love the sounds you make when I fuck you,” he says roughly, lapping and nipping at my nipple again. “This time, I want you breathing in my ear when I make you come.”

When I angle my hips just right, his shaft kisses and teases my aching clit, his words electric.

His eyes are hooded when he looks up at me, his fingers rolling and squeezing my sensitive nipple.

“Close your eyes,” he commands, draping one of my arms over his shoulder.

Smiling, I obey, draping the other.

“Tell me what you feel,” he says, using his arm to hold me tighter, giving me more pressure.

For a second, I don’t know a single word, too brainless and preoccupied with the feeling of him everywhere, amplified by my lack of sight. I ride him slow, a little cry escaping me when he pinches my nipple hard enough to sting. My hips buck in answer.

“Answer me.”

“Mmm, sharp. Again.” When he does, I hiss. “Like a shock straight to my pussy.”

He pumps purposely, holding my ass still so his pelvis can kiss my tender clit. “What else?”

“My clit. I like when it meets your cock like— oh! ” I breathe when he thrusts to meet me exactly where I want him. “Yes. You’re…I’m so full , Wilder.”

“Because you’re so fucking tight. There’s nowhere to go when I come.”

The thought of him coming almost undoes me. “I just…I want to…”

“What? Tell me what you want,” he soothes, kissing my nipple again.

The harder I grind, the fuller I am, tightening around him as he swells. “I want to feel you come. I want to see your face and know it’s for me. Only for me.”

“I can give that to you,” he says, shifting to lay me on the bed, separating us in the process. I mewl my disappointment, but he’s already climbing up after me. “But first, I want yours.” I watch his cock bob, wet and shining as he spreads his knees, spreading my thighs with them. And then my view disappears, but before I can complain, I’m blessed with the full weight of his body, heavy and strong, crushing me into the bed.

He’s everywhere, kissing me, caging me. Pulling my knee to tuck my leg into his side, spreading me open, his other hand braced in the mattress. In the space between us, we watch his hips shift, and I’m hypnotized by the sight of the tip of his cock meeting the rippling flesh of my pussy, then disappearing into me, inch by sublime inch.

He swallows my moan and pumps his hips with the intent to fucking end me once and for all. I am electric, my orgasm zinging with every jolt as he coaxes and teases and demands it from me. As if he owns my pleasure along with my heart and my soul and my body.

I gave them all to him long, long ago.

“That’s right,” he whispers. “I want it from you. It’s mine. ”

I try to speak but it’s gibberish, my skin on fire.

“Every fucking whimper and moan. Every rush that wets your thighs. Every time you come, it’s mine, ” he pants, fucking me into oblivion. “Look at me,” he demands.

I peel my heavy lids back, my vision dark and sparking. But he’s in the middle of the whole fucking universe, looking down at me like he owns me.

“Give me what’s mine, wife. ”

The flare of pleasure explodes in waves driven by the timbre of his voice, by the certainty with which he orders me to come. From deep inside me, from a place no one has ever touched, the orgasm comes and comes and comes, and I writhe against him, pressed into the bed, clinging to his broad back like he might save me.

Maybe he already did.

He could have every orgasm for all eternity if they’re all like this.

By the time I slide back into my body, we’ve slowed, his lips busy with the column of my neck, the line of my jaw, then my lips, the kiss soft and hard and possessive.

When he breaks away, I whisper, “My turn.”

I draw my thighs up, his gaze dragging down my body, locking on the point where his cock is buried in me. He watches his length appear slowly, wet and shining, then disappear again. My hips rise to meet his.

“Now I want yours. Tell me what I do to you.”

“Drive me crazy,” he mumbles against my lips.

“What else?” My pussy is still clenching around him. His pace quickens just a beat.

“You make me so fucking hard, I feel like a fucking teenager—out of control, desperate. Like I’d fucking burn down the world just to get inside you. And when I tasted you after all this time…” I feel his moan all the way down to my tippy toes. “I could live and die in your pussy, Cass. I could?—”

Whatever he was going to say is choked off by his Adam’s apple, and it works as if to free the words, but they’re lost. The veins in his chest and neck thicken with every thrust. He swells inside me, and I gasp at the slick friction.

My pulse gallops, my hands roaming, wishing I could read his mind, wishing I knew exactly what he wants so I can give it to him. But there is only that one, vital thing he needs, and I can supply it.

“Show me,” I whisper. “I want to see.” The depth and weight of every thrust, the pressure I can see reaching the top tells me everything I need to know. “Come inside me, husband. ”

A hiss becomes a groan, his lashes fluttering, jaw flexed, teeth bared—with a deep drive of his cock, he slams into me, staying there for only a heartbeat. His lips part in a silent cry, his face tensing in pain and pleasure, and he comes like thunder, pumping and fucking and emptying himself into me until everything in me is him.

Never has anyone been mine but him.

And no one but him has ever deserved to possess me.

When he collapses, drawing me into his trembling arms, the last ten years of my life disappear.

I just wish they’d stay gone.