Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
LEXI
Me
Open your door
Wilder Amante
Anything for you, Boss
I’m not sure when my mind changed.
It might’ve been during girls’ night earlier tonight, when I toasted to good dick and the girls all pressed me on what I knew about good dick lately. I’m tired of the honest answer being nothing.
Or it might’ve been when I watched Amelia leave in Weston’s arms, and my heart hurt for everything she’s gone through and the way he cares for her. It softened me in a way that’s rare.
Maybe it’s liquid courage overriding my determination to keep hating this man, to not let him win by getting me in his bed. Exhausted of the way I have to lie to myself day in and day out to pretend he disgusts me, that his body is as repulsive as his smug personality is.
The text Gracie got from her husband during girls’ night that said Wilder nearly took some teeth in my honor might have something to do with it.
Whatever it is, it has me swallowing my pride—it got lodged in my throat on the way down, but I’m trying—and showing up at Wilder’s.
I just need tonight. One filthy, fulfilling night that abates my curiosity, and I can go back to my toy collection and stop wondering what it would be like with my arrogant chef who’s way too young for me.
He’s staying in the basement apartment in one of the townhomes that runs parallel to downtown. It’s about a two-minute walk from the back alley behind Heights Bites, but tipsy as I was leaving Smoky Sips, it took me a little longer to make it here.
The summer wreath slaps against the white door when it swings open. On the other side of the threshold, Wilder’s sure smirk tells me he knows exactly why I’m here.
The burning in his black eyes sends a pulse through my system, stirring my curiosity, yet again wondering what this would be like. Something inside me purrs at the thought of finding out.
The way my cells spark from his nearness, how my thighs shift at the sensation, I know I’m not turning back. That realization solidifies my strength to park my dignity to the side for just long enough to experience him just once.
As long as we never talk about it again.
“You ready to beg for it?” he asks, those full, sensual lips pulled up at one side.
Wordless, utterly silent, I lower to my knees, first one, then the other, in his doorway, like I’ve been hyping myself up for my entire trek here. Until I can stare up at him beneath heavy lids, watch those dark eyes burn like coals at the sight of me.
“Is this enough for you?” My words come out husky, breathless, but my heart pounds a rhythm that has never felt more alive. “Or do you need to hear me say it?”
I pause, licking my lips, and watching his gaze follow the motion.
“This is me begging for your cock, Wilder,” I breathe out.
The sight of him towering above me, his silver chain hanging overtop an oversized tee, these cotton shorts that have his muscled thighs exposed at my eyeline, the tattoos there begging me to trace them with my tongue, I’m wet in an instant.
I’ve never seen something sluttier on a man, and I let my want show through for once. Eyes wide on his, my tongue traces my lower lip deliberately, until he lets out a growl.
“Fucking Christ, Lexi. Get up here.”
Lunging forward, one giant, rough hand wraps behind my skull and pulls, lifting me up back onto my feet and he crushes my body into his.
The door closes, but I’m not sure how because all I can see, smell, feel, is Wilder.
He overtakes all of my senses as he presses me up against the back of the door, consuming me with his overpowering presence, his massive form, the way he absorbs all the air in the room and sucks it from my lungs with his nearness.
His head dips to my neck, lips tracing my collarbone with the faintest of pressure that makes me gasp. “About time,” he breathes into my neck before his lips press into me urgently.
His teeth nip at my collarbone, tweaking the skin in a manner that’s anything but gentle as he moves down, into the deep V of the stiff poplin shirt I’m wearing, with puffy short sleeves that just seem to be in his way right now.
Wilder uses his teeth to yank the fabric off one shoulder, pulling a complaint from me.
“Don’t rip it,” I gasp out.
“Don’t start,” he bites out, then peels down the other sleeve with his mouth. “You made me wait long enough. I’ll do what I fucking want tonight.”
Tingles rush through my center, dipping down for my core, and a swarm of heat follows that begs for attention. Throwing my head back against the door, I moan as he continues his torture.
With both sleeves pulled down, the entire top of my chest is exposed, shirt only covering from about my nipples down.
Wilder pulls his head back just enough to take in the sight before pressing his lower body flush against mine, trapping me against the door with the pressure of his large, muscled body.
But it’s the extra hardness there that has me moaning. Something that feels long and impossibly thick that nudges my stomach as he brings his head back down, tongue out, tracing all the flesh he just exposed.
Licking a path from my neck down in between my breasts, he swirls his tongue over the swell of one breast, then the other.
“Missed these,” he says against the skin, then takes it between his teeth and bites for seconds that seem endless.
The way his onyx eyes go molten at the sight of it—like liquid black diamonds, flickering with something new in the low light—confirms my theory.
“Are you marking me?” I ask, breathless, motionless with the way he’s holding me in place, but desperate to get to participate. My hips rock impatiently, mindlessly.
“Making sure you can’t pretend this never happened,” he murmurs against the other breast, and then his mouth is closing around the globe of it that’s exposed, teeth pressing into me so hard I yelp.
He smirks at the sound. “You’re going to see just what I did to you, no matter how hard you try to pretend tonight didn’t happen.”
They’re simple words, but they make my stomach dip. Not just his filthy undertones, that raspy growl that’s in every single word he spews when he’s this turned on, but it’s how well he knows me. It’s unsettling. He’s observed me so much closer than I’ve given him credit for.
While he’s distracted, using his tongue to memorize the exact curve and dip of each breast—using so much pressure he manages to pop one nipple out—I pry one arm free from his hold and yank on his drawstring shorts. I need what’s inside them.
His mouth doesn’t abandon its mission, but his hands come back down to pin mine in place once again and he tsks against my skin.
He takes his time, worshipping the bare skin beneath his mouth as I whimper at the unfairness.
Next time he pulls back, he speaks. “You really think you’ve earned my cock already, bella?”
That bossy tone shouldn’t be turning me on, but the slickness between my thighs is hard to excuse away.
Not sure I’ve met someone who’s more dominant than me in most situations, but my memory is quick to come up empty when I try to recall if I’ve ever been with a partner who managed to dominate me in the bedroom.
Might be my size, my brashness, but I’ve intimated almost every guy I’ve hooked up with.
Wilder?
Not. Intimidated.
“After how mean you’ve been to me, Lexi, you’re gonna have to try harder than that to earn your reward.”
Is his cock my reward?
Sucking him off is my treat in this scenario, not his?
Does that make the way he’s tonguing my nipple the punishment?
My head swims and spins with sensation, lost in the ways he’s making me feel.
“You like it when I’m mean to you,” I pant out. “You’re fucked up like that.”
He murmurs a noise of agreement, sucking the top of my breast in his mouth so hard it’s going to leave some damage, and then lets it pop out with a smacking sound.
“Everything you do turns me on. You should try being nice to me and see what that does.”
My head rolls from side to side against the door. “Too far. Give me a safe word, because that crossed the line. This is a hate fuck and nothing more.”
“No safe words. Only thing I wanna hear outta your mouth tonight is ‘yes, Chef.’”
I nod, not sure he can see me with his head buried between my breasts, but maybe he feels the motion because he speaks.
“Answer me. You think you’ve earned my cock?”
“Yes.” A growl rumbles in his chest, making me gasp before adding, “Chef.”
His grip on me lessens as he purrs in delight, clearly enjoying my submission. The weight of his large frame lifts from my front, leaving tracks of saliva, countless red marks and imprints of his teeth along every inch of flesh that’s visible above my shirt.
I can feel his heavy gaze admiring his handiwork as one of his hands reaches down and he strokes his length through his shorts.
Watching his hand mold to the shape, it’s even larger than I thought.
His eyes spark with unspent energy, and it vibrates the particles in the room. Like a single spark leaping between us could start a fire that consumes everything in the space.
“I want it,” I repeat, letting the desperation leak through my words.
That voice of his is always deep, but it’s especially guttural when he speaks again. “Show me.”
Wilder grabs my hand, dwarfing mine in his massive grip, and my thighs clench remembering how it felt to have his thick fingers inside of me.
Those rough pads of his fingers exploring until they found exactly the right spot.
How he filled me so easily, stretched me around him as he worked me deep and hard.
I need more from him now.
Dragging me through the small apartment, he drops my arm when we get to the bedroom he’s staying in, and the second I’m free my hands find the hem of my shirt, and I yank it up and over my head until I’m free from the constraints of it.
My bra is next and his eyes follow every movement, taking in my curves as they’re revealed to him, inch by inch.