Page 42 of Made for Wilde

His fingers move faster, harder, and something inside me shatters.

The orgasm crashes over me and I cry out his name, my body clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washes through me.

When I finally come down, trembling and gasping, Koda's looking at me with something like awe. He withdraws his hand slowly and presses a kiss to my forehead.

"That was so hot," he whispers against my skin.

I'm boneless, barely able to form coherent thoughts. A small smile tugs at Koda’s lips. He lifts me off the counter in one smooth motion. I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs still weak, and he carries me down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

His eyes meet mine, dark with promise.

"I’m taking you to my bed."

NINE

KODA

The weightof Charlotte Palmer in my arms feels right in ways that should terrify me.

She’s half my age, she’s my best friend’s daughter.

But as I carry her down the hallway to my bedroom, I can’t bring myself to care.

I’ll deal with Jason later. Right now, all I can think about is Charlotte’s soft weight in my arms, the way her fingers tangle in my hair, and the little breathy sounds she makes against my neck.

I kick the bedroom door open and lay her on my bed. She looks up at me with those blue eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. My sheets will smell like her tomorrow. The thought sends a surge of possessiveness through me that I have no right to feel.

“Baby, are you sure about this?” I ask.

Charlotte nods. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That’s all it takes. The last thread of my control snaps. I peel off my shirt, watching her eyes widen as she takes in my chest, the scars, the tattoos. Her gaze is hungry, appreciative in a way that makes me feel both powerful and humbled.

I take my time undressing her, savoring each new inch of skin revealed. I slide her sweatshirt—my sweatshirt—up and over her head, groaning at the sight of her perfect breasts. They’re small and perky, with rosy nipples that harden under my gaze.

“Fucking beautiful,” I murmur, cupping one in my palm. “Been thinking about these since I saw you at the bar.”

I roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she arches into my touch.

Her voice is breathy and disbelieving. “You have?”

“Every night.” I lower my head to taste her, circling one nipple with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth. “Touching myself, imagining it was your hand wrapped around my cock.”

She moans, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

I move to her other breast, giving it the same attention while my hands work at the button of her jeans. When I pull them down her legs along with her panties, she tries to close her thighs, suddenly shy.

“Don’t,” I growl, gently but firmly spreading her legs. “Let me see you.”

The sight of her bare pussy, pink and glistening, nearly makes me come in my jeans like a fucking teenager. I have to close my eyes for a second, get myself under control.

“Fuck, look at you,” I breathe when I open them again. “So pretty. So wet for me.”

Charlotte squirms under my gaze, a blush spreading from her cheeks down to her chest.

“You like that?” I ask, my voice dropping lower. “Like when I tell you how fucking perfect your pussy is?”