Chapter 27
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
MAISIE
I think I could actually come like this.
From just the feel of Wilder’s rough palms gripping my hips, fingers digging into the globes of my ass, the way his gaze moves over me, his eyes so dark, so intense, so hungry that I can feel my clit throbbing like it’s a second heartbeat.
I didn’t think it was possible for me to be able to… come so easily.
I’ve tried with my fingers when I was alone, and I think I’ve gotten close, but each time it felt within reach, it slipped away.
That feeling that I’m experiencing right now.
I want Wilder to touch me in the place he’s staring at like he wants to devour.
I want him to spread me out in front of him and actually devour me.
I want to experience all of the things I’ve only ever read about in romance books. The pleasure, the multiple mind-blowing orgasms, the intimacy that you share with another person who can read your body like a map with their eyes closed.
Wilder shifts beneath me, his erection brushing against my already sensitive, aching core.
I suck in a breath as my fingers curl into the front of his hoodie.
“I want you,” I murmur against his lips, pressing another tiny kiss to the corner, to the bottom of his lip. “Touch me.”
But his hands don’t leave where they’re curved around my waist.
And I want to scream in frustration. I’ve waited for this exact moment for weeks.
I pull back to stare down at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Wilder says, but hesitation passes over his face.
It makes my confidence falter, and I suddenly feel… I don’t know, silly for basically throwing myself at him.
Is this a repeat of what happened in his office? I can’t help but think that. That he’s yet again going to push me away, to tell me that it was a mistake that should never have happened. I can’t take that again.
“Whatever you’re thinking in that pretty little head of yours, stop,” he grunts as he tips a finger beneath my chin and draws my eyes back on him.
“What am I supposed to think? I’m basically offering myself to you on a silver platter, writhing on your lap, and you won’t even touch me. I’m beginning to think that you don’t want me at all, Wilder.” I hate how my voice sounds, small and unsure.
His eyes bounce between mine, and I watch the muscle of his jaw flex. It’s like he’s always fighting… something.
“You think I don’t want you? That I don’t want this?
” Each word is punctuated with intensity, his fingers moving to ghost along the front of my panties, brushing right over the damp lace where I’m so wet for him.
“You think that I don’t want to tear this tiny strap of fabric off of you and eat your cunt until your cum is running down my face?
Or fuck you so hard that you’ll be sore for days?
Leave my marks on all of your skin? Fill you with my cum until it’s leaking out of you for the next week? ”
Holy fucking shit.
His heated stare is so intense that I can feel it seared into me as physically as I can his fingers thrumming across my panties, teasing the peak of my clit that pushes against the fabric.
I’m so hot for him that I’m burning.
“You have no idea the things that I want to do to you.”
I rock my hips, chasing his touch. “Then tell me. Show me.”
He laughs, a raspy sound filled with nothing humorous. “Maisie, correct me if I’m wrong, and we both know that I’m not, but until the night you coated my cock with your blood, you were a virgin.”
His thick brow arches, silently telling me to dispute that.
And he’s right. We both know that I can’t.
“Might be making an assumption here, but I’m thinking you’re probably a bit… inexperienced when it comes to this, yeah?”
Heat floods my cheeks. Not because I’m ashamed of it, but because I didn’t realize that it was that obvious. I nod, tearing my gaze from his and glancing down at a spot on his shirt.
“Don’t do that,” he mutters as he tips my chin once again. I feel the weight of his gaze so heavily that I might buckle beneath the intensity of it. “We’re going to talk about the fact that I’m the only man you’ve ever fucked.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
His thumb brushes along my jaw, a steady, torturous motion that makes me squirm in his lap. He slides his hand to my nape, where he curls his palm, holding me still.
“Am I the only man who’s ever touched you, Maisie?”
A beat passes.
And another.
Finally, I nod.
“Fucking hell,” he rasps, and his grip tightens, fingers gathering the silky strands of my hair and twisting where they rest along my nape. “So that night? It was the only night you’ve… done anything, at all?”
Another nod.
“It was a first for anything, outside of a kiss.”
A tortured sound sounds somewhere deep in his throat, his eyes snapping shut as he takes a long, deep breath.
When he peels his eyes back open, they’re bottomless.
Deep, murky pools of brown.
“I’m an even bigger piece of shit than I thought.”
I stiffen, every muscle in my body pulling taut.
“No.” I shake my head, and this time, my fingers slip beneath his chin, the hair of his beard coarse as I grip it tightly in my hands and force his attention to me.
“You don’t get to regret that night. You don’t get to make me feel like it’s something that I should regret either, Wilder.
I wanted everything that happened, exactly the way it happened, and I’m not ever going to look back on it and wish it was any different. ”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his gaze pinning me where I sit. “I shouldn’t have been so rough. I should—”
I cut him off with my other hand, slamming it over his mouth and silencing him.
“Stop. Don’t you dare treat me like some fragile, incapable… naive little girl.”
His lips move beneath my hand, but I press harder, my gaze narrowing. “No. God, you just do not understand. I am so tired of being treated as if I’m perfect. Like I’m just the good girl who can never do anything improper because my father’s a preacher.”
Wilder’s eyes widen, and suddenly, his fingers are circling my wrist, tugging it away from his mouth.
“You’re a preacher’s daughter, Maisie?”
My eyes roll.
“I’m going straight to hell.”
“See!” I groan. “This is exactly what I mean. Pretend that I didn’t even tell you that.”
His arm slips around my waist, and he hauls me closer, a hint of a rare grin tugging at his lips, one that makes my heart flip in my chest.
“Even more scandalous now.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, so close to his full lips that I can nearly taste them.
“We’re never going to talk about it again.
The point is…” I flatten my palms against his chest and push back slightly so I can speak—no, think—without him invading every one of my senses.
“I don’t want you to hold back. I don’t want to be treated like the girl who was just a virgin, or like I’m not capable of handling whatever you have to give. ”
“Do you have any idea what you’re asking for?” His voice has gone low and hoarse, the syllables washing over me like I’m being doused in accelerant and causing the fire inside to turn into a blaze.
“I’m telling you that I want you to fuck me, use me the same way I want to use you. Make me come like crazy. I want it all, Wilder. And I don’t want to be handled like I’m too inexperienced or… I don’t know, innocent. That’s patronizing. “
His fingers curl into my hair, tugging my hair back roughly. “You wanna be a good girl for me, Maisie? Stop being a little brat that needs her ass spanked and do as you’re told, when you’re told?”
Oh God.
Do I want that?
Absolutely. One hundred percent if it means he keeps talking to me in that low, commanding tone.
“Yes.” The word is completely breathless; it sounds needy and wanton, but I don’t even care.
If this is what it took to push him over the edge, to finally touch me, I think I’d do just about anything.
I’m so wet right now that I can feel it slick against my thighs. I feel like I could… combust into actual flames, and he’s barely even touched me.
I may be inexperienced, as in never having actually experienced sexual things before, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t know exactly what turns me on, what makes me wet.
I’ve spent my entire life reading thousands of different love stories, of different ways to get pleasure and to… give it.
Wilder’s hands move to the hem of his hoodie where it kisses the top of my thighs, slipping beneath the oversized fabric. The contact of his rough palms gliding up my sides has my nipples hardening and goose bumps dusting my arms.
In a single breath, he pulls his hoodie up and over my head, leaving me completely bare for him, aside from my panties, which are a wet, sopping mess.
He lets out a low grunt when his back hits the couch behind him, and he drinks me in, hungry eyes flaring as they move over my chest and my taut nipples, which are turned up and so sensitive that the air kissing them might make me come.
My skin is nearly vibrating from the caress of his gaze, but when I reach for him, he captures my wrists midair, halting me.
“Good girls do as they’re told, Maisie.”
My breath hitches.
Slowly, he lowers my hands back to my sides, and he leans back.
God, why won’t he touch me? I’m going out of my mind with need.
I try to quell the ache, to stifle the throbbing in my core by pressing my thighs together, but his hips are in the way.
“Don’t interrupt me while I’m fucking finally able to appreciate every inch of what I’m looking at.”