Page 38 of Last Chorus (A Perfect Song Duet #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

wilder

W ith a scream of rage, Evangeline swings the axe at the giant tree stump I use to chop firewood. She misses the standing log by at least four inches. It topples over as she wrestles the heel of the blade from the stump.

As she heaves and pants, she mutters under her breath. I can’t hear every word, but catch “motherfucker” and “fucking kill him.”

I’m not sure what it says about me that I’m hard as fuck right now, but I blame it on the sweat glistening on her face, chest, and arms. Then again, I was hard on her first swing, long before she pulled off her sweatshirt to reveal a black sports bra.

I shift against the tree I’m leaning on, adjusting myself discreetly. Evangeline catches the movement, sending a searing glance my way before righting the log and lining up for another swing.

Arms shaking, she lifts the heavy axe. Her form is shit, but I learned my lesson twenty minutes ago and keep my mouth shut.

I can’t help a small smile as she bellows her rage into the forest and swings again. I’m not happy about her pain, obviously, but I’m ecstatic that she’s expressing it. It means she feels safe to show me the full, messy range of her emotions.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” she snaps, hefting the axe and stumbling a little. “There’s nothing funny about this.”

My smile instantly dies. She’s right. There’s nothing funny about any of this, especially since Shelley got her hands on a few of the headlines publishing in less than forty-eight hours.

Her phone call is what woke me up so early, and I spent five minutes dry heaving over the toilet before I came downstairs.

I knew Clay was going to go for my jugular, but I thought—naively, I guess—that he’d leave Evangeline out of it.

He didn’t.

There are the expected, shock-value headlines like, Sex, Drugs, and Rock ’n’ Roll: Wilder Ashburn Exposed, and an assortment of others all implying I’m back on drugs and a literal monster.

Clay apparently found a handful of random industry people to support the narrative, no doubt individuals I’ve either pissed off or were all too happy to sacrifice morals for money.

Shelley even said there are a few publications touting so-called photo evidence.

I can only assume they’re passing off pictures of me mid-yawn as proof I’m loaded.

Either that, or they went straight AI and are hoping the public doesn’t notice.

But my literal worst nightmare is the main headline attached to Clay’s exclusive interview: Eva Marie: Mentally Unstable and Back with Abusive Ex-Lover. Estranged Fiancé Asks Public for Help.

Every word is bullshit, but it’s the kind of headline that plays to empathy and will trigger pitchforks. And Clay knows it. He’s preemptively pinning his sins on me, attempting to turn me into a straw man the world will light on fire while he stays safe in the smoke.

In his twisted head, I’m sure he believes Evangeline will eventually turn against me and come crawling back to him.

He really doesn’t know her at all.

“I’ll show him mentally unstable,” she snarls.

She swings the axe again and again, each progressively sloppier arc punctuated by insults .

“Saggy-balled—tiny-dicked—hair-plugged—fake-tanned— psychopath .”

She finally clips the edge of the standing log, sending it flying off the stump. The axe almost flies, too. I push off the tree, but she throws me a look that makes me freeze and lift my hands.

“Just here to make sure you don’t lose a hand.”

She bares her teeth. “Suck my dick, Wilder.”

Maybe I’m experiencing some weirdly euphoric version of shock, but I’ve never wanted her so badly in my life. “If you had one, baby, I’d drop to my knees right now.”

With a groan more amused than annoyed, she lets the axe fall to the ground and sits heavily on the stump.

Panting, she wipes damp hair off her forehead. “There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

I grin. “You love it.”

Sunlight cuts through the clearing, bisecting her flushed face and making her gray eye glow with predatory light. My mouth drops as she spreads her legs and arches an eyebrow.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

Four strides and I’m dropping, my knees slamming into dirt as I rip my T-shirt over my head. Evangeline’s pupils dilate, her breath stuttering, but she still manages a haughty sniff .

“I didn’t say anything about returning the favor.”

My chuckle is so full of dark promise that goosebumps lift on her chest and arms. “It’s to keep splinters from your ass, you brat. Stand up.”

She stands fast, betraying her eagerness.

My nose brushes her bare stomach, and I suck in the delicious fragrance of her sweat as I spread my T-shirt over the stump.

Then I grab her hips and lick from the waistband of her sweatpants to the edge of her sports bra.

She gasps, grabbing my shoulders to stay upright.

Finding a hard nipple through cotton, I flick it with my tongue before closing my mouth around it and sucking hard. She whimpers, rocking toward me. I take advantage, seizing the fabric under my fingers and yanking her pants down, baring her to the sunlight and fresh air.

“Oh, fuck, we’re really doing this?” she asks in a high voice. “Are you sure no one can see us?”

I gaze up at her. “I’d never do this if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was private.

This is the densest part of the property, the farthest from neighbors and the water.

I’m also not even close to the most famous person in the neighborhood, hence the giant walls and armed security.

But if you feel unsafe at all, we can absolutely go inside. ”

A smile teases her lips. “Get back to work. ”

I bite the closest nipple, grinning around her flesh when she smacks my head. There’s no power in the blow, probably because her arms are limp noodles from rage-chopping a stump that’s so old and hard it barely noticed.

“God, I love you,” I murmur, pulling up the band of her sports bra to expose her breasts.

I tongue her nipples until she’s panting again—for a different, better reason this time.

When her hips start moving in needy circles, I guide her down to the stump until she’s on her back, splayed out like a wicked offering.

“Fucking look at you.” Shadows play over her body, cool air dancing with warm beams of light. I pull her sweats over her sneakers and toss them to her. “For your head.”

As she tucks the fabric behind her neck, I shift forward until my knees hit the trunk before lowering to my heels.

Sliding my hands up her silky thighs, I spread them up and to the sides.

My cock jumps at the beautifully indecent way she’s bared to me.

Arousal shimmers on her pussy, gravity carrying lubricant exactly where I need it.

With a groan of appreciation, I kiss my way up one thigh before blowing over her center.

Her legs stiffen under my hands and I glance up, stilling when I register her closed-off expression. “What’s wrong? ”

She hesitates, then blurts, “How many women have been on this stump?”

I’m powerless over my slow, satisfied grin. “Why?”

She scowls. “Just answer.”

I bite the nearest skin, earning another feeble slap to my head. “You first. Why, Fairy?”

Her chin lifts, jaw set with defiance. “Because it’s suspiciously the perfect size and height for this.”

The effort of holding back a laugh makes my eyes water and my voice strangled. “You think I had a tree cut down in order to make a sex stump?”

Her face turns red, thighs tensing as she pushes against my hold. “Let me up. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Twenty-four hours ago, I would have obeyed without question. Now, I shake my head. “Too late. You’re a sacrifice to the sex stump.” Holding her straining thighs, I press a kiss to her clit.

“Wilder,” she hisses.

Tracing the tip of my tongue around the flushed, swollen bud, I roll my eyes up to see her livid expression war with equally potent lust. “No one’s been on the sex stump but you.

No one’s been in my bed or shower, bent over furniture or splayed out on my kitchen counter but you. Just you. Only you. ”

Expression softening, she sighs out her relief. “Suck me,” she whispers.

I cover her clit with my mouth. She groans, spine arching. I alternate deep, pulsing suction with taps of my tongue. Her fingers dig into my hair, fisting and yanking me closer so she can grind against my face. Her gasps and moans fill the clearing, making my hips rock and my cock throb and leak.

Content to let her use me for a minute, I pull out the items I stowed in my pocket before we left the house. Focusing isn’t easy, especially when her thighs are strangling me and I’m close to coming in my pants, but I manage to squirt lube on the silicone plug and turn on the vibration.

Evangeline’s head lifts at the sound, her thighs releasing my neck. I take advantage of the freedom, straightening to show her the toy. Her already blown pupils flare wider, belying her next, irate words.

“You’re not fucking my ass in the forest!”

My smile makes her shiver. “We both know you’d let me and love it, but I’m not going to—today. You are going to take this plug and wear it as you walk to the studio and find a soft surface.”

“But I’m so close,” she whines.

“Oh, I know.” I drag the slick, vibrating toy over her clit, enjoying the way her hips jerk. “Do you feel empty, baby?”

She nods and cups her breasts, teasing her nipple piercings. “Please make me come first?”

My smile sharpens. “Nice try. You’ll come when I let you. If you’re a good little slut for me, I’ll put another toy in your cunt while I’m in your ass.”

Her eyes glaze, her body shuddering. “Yes, Wilder.”

Her submission is an axe to my patience. I drop the toy to her ass and apply pressure. “Let me in. Good girl. Fuck, so pretty. Does it hurt?”

“No. Feels good.”

Releasing the base of the toy, I trail two fingers through her folds and tease the hot, silky entrance of her body. She whimpers and undulates in search of penetration.

“Ah-ah.” I slap her clit, making her arch with a cry. Her eyes close, breath stalling. “Don’t you dare come.”

She fights her body’s demand for several taut seconds, then relaxes, her chest heaving with the effort.

“Good job, baby. Ready to go?”

She nods, her soft, guileless smile almost undoing me. Before I lose the ability to resist her, I push to my feet and offer a hand. She stands up and gasps, swaying into me.

“You okay? ”

“Yes,” she says with a soft giggle. “Just feels weird. Kinda heavy.”

I smack her ass. She yelps, then groans. Tilting her chin, I give her a soft kiss and a parting nibble.

“I’m going to grab something from the house, then I’m coming for you.”

“Ladies first.” As soon as the words are out, she cringes.

My delighted laugh startles a pair of squirrels, sending them scampering up a nearby tree.

She glowers at me. “I’m deeply disappointed in myself.”

I reach out and gently tweak her nipple. “Get moving, Pun Queen.”

She unfurls a middle finger, then turns on a heel and takes a step, only to jerk to a stop. A soft, strained sound rides her heavy exhale.

“You can do it,” I say through my grin.

Both middle fingers float up as she begins walking carefully and very awkwardly toward the path leading to the studio. Once I’m confident she has the hang of it, I sprint to the house, barely making it inside before I fold over laughing.