Chapter 8 #4
“There’s one way you could get me to shut up. But it’s not what I have in mind for you right now.”
A blast of cool air hits my warm flesh, and I realize he’s pulled my pants down just enough to leave me out in the open. Not undressed me all the way. No rose petals or candlelight from Wilder Amante. All that’s out is exactly what he needs to get what he wants.
Raw, dirty, do what needs to be done. Animalistic.
Somehow, it unhinges me. The idea of being treated like a fuck toy. Like all he needs is my pussy.
Wilder lifts my right leg up until my knee is on the desk, and I’m spread open, barely able to keep my balance. I’m completely at his mercy in this pose, held in place by my jeans banded around my thighs, the hold he has on me, and this awkward position.
It’s as I’m about to burst from the anticipation, not knowing if he’s putting on a condom to slide into me from behind, or what comes next, that I feel it.
His forearm wrapped around my hips, his fingers dipping into my entrance.
He moans in my ear, completely unembarrassed by the sound. “Shit, Boss. If I’d known you were this wet, I would’ve kicked everyone out hours ago. Made you the tasting instead. Up on the line, thighs spread around my ears as I fucked you with my tongue.”
Another wanton noise leaves my lips, my face flushed, nipples pebbled and begging for attention even through the bra and shirt still covering them. I’m too far gone to care what I look like, what I sound like. I let myself feel what he’s doing to me for once.
Wilder plays with the slickness around my opening, pulling it up to my clit and pinching me once. My thighs clench and squeeze together rapidly, but the desk holding my knee up doesn’t let me get away from the sensation.
Head dropping back onto his shoulder, his stubbled face comes down to my ear once more.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about getting you off. Fuck my fist every night thinking of your tits, dreaming of this cunt. Gonna have so much more to think about when I get home tonight. Now that I’ve felt heaven.”
The whimper I make turns into a howl when he plunges his fingers inside me. Is that two? Three? Fuck, he’s so big I can’t tell.
“Mmm, that’s it, bella,” he encourages. “Move your hips, ride my hand like it’s my cock.”
If this were any other moment, I wouldn’t listen to him. I would do the opposite of whatever he told me to do. Because I hate Wilder Amante and I want nothing more than to make his life miserable.
Except, maybe, possibly, to come on him, near him, by him, because of him.
So my hips obey, moving over his hand, circling, stretching as his fingers pull back and enter me once again, prepping me for the ride I’m about to get.
When he enters me again, two fingers spreading my folds as another two start exploring, I start moving.
Grinding on his hand, my ass moves against his hips and I feel just how hard he is behind me.
Just how large he is. And something about it doesn’t quite make sense, but I’m lost in the pleasure, all of my attention homed in on the nerve endings he’s serenading right now with his skillful touch.
The symphony he’s pulling out of me with every teasing stroke and pluck.
His thumb darts up to circle my clit and I hum at the feel of him. He applies more pressure, twisting his fingers and bending them at just the right spot that my vision turns white-hot.
The visual of what he must look like behind me, jaw clenched, dark eyes blown out in concentration as he skillfully wrenches an orgasm from me entirely too fast, it hits me and it turns me on even more.
“I hate you,” I pant out, hips still circling and jerking over his ministrations with more desperation the closer I get.
“Feels like you hate me,” he says, and I can feel his lips tilted up in a smile against my ear, which absolutely won’t do.
Bracing myself with both hands on the desk, I lift my foot that’s still on the floor and do my best to stomp it on top of his.
The dark chuckle in my ear tells me that wasn’t the thing to do, but I don’t listen to common sense. Clearly. Or I wouldn’t be getting finger banged by the guy I’m trying to run out of town.
Mixed messages much, Lex?
His throaty words send chills through my flesh. “Here’s the thing about me, Lexi. Your crazy doesn’t scare me off. It turns me on.”
Like he just spit some dirty filth in my ear, my body responds by surging closer to the finish line, pleasure winding through my nerve cells as he brings me nearer the edge I’m so desperate to fall over.
“Fight me all you want to,” he growls into my ear, his free arm banded around my stomach, holding me to him so I feel just what I do to him. “I can’t wait to show you exactly how much I like it when you let your crazy out.”
I can barely form a sentence with the release he’s so close to wringing from me, but I manage to get it out between sharp pants. “Are you really calling me crazy right now?”
“You’re the one getting off on it,” he murmurs, before biting my earlobe. Hard.
My core clenches in response, and my body jolts.
His teeth move down to my neck, and he bites down again, with even more force.
“Shit!” I scream out the curse and try to buckle forward, but he holds me upright, legs still spread, even though one leg is going numb from the knee down and I think my hip may never work right again.
It’ll have been worth it.
I’m gonna need a second pass from the owner for another free orgasm, because there’s no stopping this one.
His thumb presses harder against my clit, surging me past the finish line, and between his fingers pressing into that spot, a bit too much pressure against my most sensitive area, the way I’m still riding his wrist like he’s Seabiscuit, and a bit of the self-loathing I feel from being in this position in the first place, I explode.
I have issues, I know I do.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of telling him I’m coming or screaming his name. Instead, I pull a Lexi and try to piss him off one last time. “Randy!” I call, because it’s the first name I think of.
Of course it is, it’s the name of my favorite two-in-one vibrator, the one that usually gets the job done for me. It’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had at this point.
But Wilder, he doesn’t miss a beat, and he doesn’t hand me a single W. “You get me hot, too, bella.”
Breathing through the comedown, I shake my head and free myself from the awkward position, pulling up my pants as soon as his hand is out of them.
“I wasn’t saying I was randy, I was thinking of a guy named Randy.”
“Think of whoever you’d like, we both know who just made you scream.”
Ugh! He is impossible!
“Whatever,” I mutter, reaching for his waistband. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Wilder steps back, out of my reach, but I watch as his cock bobs through his chef pants from the motion.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, not in the mood for more games from him. I just want to suck him off and pretend this evening never happened.
Mostly.
Until I revisit it beneath the covers, when I’m back with Randy.
“Nothing,” he says, a grin on his face. “I got what I wanted.”
“What is this?” I ask, hands flying up to my face. “Are you just trying to rack up a bunch of IOUs with me? So you can humiliate me with them later? I’m already here, I’d rather just suck you off now and call it even.”
His head jerks to one side, face pulled in a grimace that’s more comical than upset. “I don’t think so, bella.”
My brows soar, eyes bulging. “Seriously? You don’t want me to take care of that problem for you?” I gesture toward his crotch with my eyes.
He palms the front of his pants with the hand that wasn’t just down mine, and I try not to swallow at the sight of him readjusting himself. He might as well be stroking himself for what the visual does to me.
“This?” His eyes flash back up to mine, a storm brewing in them. “You’re not getting my cock until you beg for it, Boss. Have a good night.”
Standing there, stunned, a scream working its way up from somewhere deep in my soul, Wilder leaves me somehow more off-kilter than I was before the mind-shattering orgasm.
And it’s as I’m gathering my belongings, closing up my computer for the night, some twenty minutes of staring (not screaming) into the void, that the call I’ve been unable to answer so many times recently comes in yet again.
Sighing, I look down and hit accept.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Princess! How’s everything going at our diner?”