Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
WILDER
“This is humiliating,” Scottie says.
“For all these people driving by us know, we have a flat tire,” I say as we turn into a Stewart’s gas station.
“I really thought we would be better at this.”
“I think the problem is you have no balance,” I say while we push the tandem bike up against the gas station’s wall. I unclip my helmet and fluff out my hair as I turn toward her.
“I had plenty of balance,” she grumbles.
My brow quirks up. “Pips, it’s insulting that you think you can blatantly lie to me.”
She huffs. “It was just different. I didn’t think you were going to be so…large.”
“Come on now. You’ve seen me with my clothes off. You know how large I really am.”
Her expression falls flat. “Really, Wilder?”
“Uh, we were told to flirt. I am flirting.”
“That is not flirting.”
“Would it have helped if I wiggled my brows while saying it?”
“No,” she answers like the grump she knows how to be. “Are we going to push the bike back to camp?”
“I mean, it’s not that far away, so we can try biking again.”
“Yeah, we can, I guess.”
“But first, I think we need some ice cream,” I say and then take her hand, pulling her toward the gas station. “Have you ever been into a Stewart’s before?”
“Uh, I don’t think so,” she says while I open the door for her.
“Pips, they have the best ice cream.”
Her face contorts in confusion when we get to the ice cream counter. “This gas station has hand-scooped ice cream?”
“Yup, one of the great things about Stewart’s. And you can even buy cartons of it if there is a flavor you really like. My dad, before his accident, would come home from work on Fridays during the summer, and he’d bring home a carton of ice cream.”
“Really? That’s sweet. What was his favorite flavor?”
“Crumbs Along the Mohawk,” I answer. “It was everyone’s favorite.”
“What’s in that one?”
“It’s graham cracker–flavored ice cream, caramel swirl, and graham cracker pieces.”
“Ooo, that sounds good. I think I want to get that.”
I smile. “Cup or cone?”
“Cone.”
“Good girl.” I wink and then pull out my wallet and walk up to the counter, where I put in our order and pay. I hand her the first cone, grab some napkins, and head out toward where we parked the bike.
We both take a seat on a bench, and I loop my arm around her while she takes her first lick.
From the sight of her tongue running against the ice cream, I feel my mouth go dry, envisioning what her tongue did to me last night.
Then she moans, her eyes closing. “Mmmm.”
That moan immediately sends me into a tailspin of desire.
“So good,” she whispers and then licks again, but this time, she moves her tongue over the top, like she’s rimming it.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask as I shift in my seat.
A grin spreads over those delicious lips as she says, “I thought we were supposed to flirt.”
“That is not flirting,” I say seriously. “That is taunting.”
“Are you saying you can’t handle a little ice cream licking?”
“I’m saying I can’t handle you rimming your ice cream like you’re running your tongue over my goddamn piercings.”
She chuckles. “Quite the imagination on you.”
“Oh, you know what you were doing. Should I flick my ice cream like I flicked your clit last night?”
“Have at it. Show me what you’ve got.”
I purse my lips, studying her. “You know what? No, I’m not about to give you a free show.”
“That’s your choice, and I respect it.” She smirks and then starts rimming her ice cream again…while moaning.
“Stop that.”
She laughs and leans deeper into my chest.
“In all seriousness, this is really good.”
“I know,” I say as I take a bite, the flavor bringing me back to summer Fridays when we’d eat ice cream out on the porch and bird-watch with my dad. “God, I haven’t had this in a while. It’s reminding me of my dad.”
“Do you want to talk about him?” she asks. “What kind of guy was he?”
“He was a great guy,” I say, thinking back to when he was around…and mentally present. “He was a jokester, always teasing me and Mika. He was infatuated with our mom, treated her like she was a queen. He would stand up for what was right and never partook in what was wrong. He made sure that Mika and I had the same morals. He loved being outdoors and bird-watching. That’s where I found a love for it.”
“He sounds very familiar,” she says as she leans back and kisses my neck.
I squeeze her tighter. “Yeah, I look like him too. Same eyes. Same hair. Same bone structure. Almost a copy-and-paste situation. But he spent a lot of time with me and Mika. He loved being a dad. Every weekend, we could count on him doing something with us, whether it was hiking, playing in the backyard, or taking us to a movie. There was always something.”
“I love that. You must have the best memories with him.”
“I do,” I say softly. “I think his later days sometimes outweigh those earlier memories, because when he was in a wheelchair, it was really hard. We were all sort of caregivers for him, especially when Mom wasn’t home. Those days were difficult. I remember this one time though, maybe a month or so before he passed, it was a cool summer day, Mom was at work, and Mika was with friends. I took my dad outside and set up a blanket in the backyard with pillows. I took him out of his wheelchair and propped him up so he could see the trees, and then I held binoculars up to his eyes, and we bird-watched. I told him all the birds we were seeing and recited everything he told me growing up. He had vocal cord paralysis as well, so he couldn’t talk with us, but that day, he looked me in the eyes, and he cried.” I shake my head, remembering that moment. “I knew he was telling me he was proud in that moment.”
Scottie lifts up and turns toward me. “God, Wilder.” She presses her hand to her heart. “That…that makes me so sad.”
“Nah, there is no need to be sad. It was a good moment, a moment I needed from him, because there were times when my frustration for the situation sometimes outweighed my patience. But that day, I was able to slow down. I was able to have a moment with him. A moment like we had when I was younger. And I always cherished it. I actually carry a picture of that day in my wallet.”
I pull out my wallet, and with my ice cream in one hand and my wallet in the other, I remove the picture and show it to her. She takes it and stares at the picture for a few seconds before she says, “Wow, you really do look like him. Just missing the lip ring.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, my dad would have hated that.”
“Really?” she asks, handing me the picture back so I can stick it in my wallet again.
“Yeah. He didn’t like piercings or tattoos or anything that could alter your appearance.”
“So why did you get a tattoo and piercings?”
“I think it was a way of dealing with my pain. If I marked myself up somewhere else, maybe I wouldn’t hurt as much inside.”
“Did it help?” she asks.
“No. Shocking revelation, you actually have to talk about your pain in order to heal. Can’t keep it all bottled inside.”
“So I’m assuming you went to therapy, then?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “After piercing my dick, I thought, maybe this self-mutilation thing isn’t working. So I went to therapy, and that’s where I learned to forgive my mom—for the most part—there’s still some animosity that I’m working through. I learned to grieve my father’s death, and I learned some coping techniques for how to help Mika. He actually sees my therapist as well.”
“Were you the one who got him to go into therapy?”
“I did,” I say, thinking back to that horrible day when he told me he wasn’t doing well. It was one of the worst days of my life.
‘Wil, I don’t think I can do life anymore. I’m sorry. My heart is just too broken, and I’ve just got no fucks to give…’
And when he started asking for my forgiveness for not being able to stay around, I knew I had to get to him.
It was the most terrifying twenty-four hours of my life, traveling without knowing if he’d still be there when I made it to his home.
“I stayed with him for a while, living in the same apartment. I think you were in Ohio at that point.”
“Yeah, I remember when he told me that you were staying with him. I didn’t know you, but I was grateful. He needed someone watching over him.”
“I babysat him for a while, didn’t let him go anywhere without me. It wasn’t until I started to see a shift in his demeanor that I started to believe that he was going to be okay. I wasn’t going to lose my father and my brother. Thankfully, I had the ability to be by his side at all times.”
“I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I’m glad you were there for him.”
“That’s how Dad raised us. He said no matter what happens in life, we’re supposed to have each other. Because there would be a day when he and Mom were no longer around, and we had to take care of each other. Well, that time came sooner than we expected. I would never let anything happen to Mika at this point. He’s my number one in this world.”
“You’re such a good man, Wilder.”
“I try to be,” I answer. “I really try.”
“Pedal,” I say to Scottie.
“I am. I think there’s something wrong with this bike.”
“No, babe, I think there’s something wrong with you.” I stop the bike and set my legs on the ground, straddling the bike. I look over my shoulder, where Scottie is looking all kinds of disgruntled.
“It is not me. It’s the bike.”
Chuckling, I step off the bike. “Look, there’s a path that leads to the lake. Let’s take a break for a moment, gather ourselves, and then we can get back on.”
“Or we can walk it back, because that is the devil’s form of transportation, and I’d rather not take part in his form of torture again.”
“Whatever you want.”
We move the bike off the road and up against a tree before unsnapping our helmets. We hang them on the bike handles, and then I take her hand and help her down the narrow, rocky trail to a clearing that overlooks the lake.
I clear a spot on the ground, and then I take a seat and pull her down in front of me, allowing her to lean her back against my chest.
“Is it kind of weird that we only have a few days left here?” she asks as I loop my hand around her stomach.
“Yeah. Feels like we were just checking in the other day and marking up a golf ball with a Sharpie about our nonexistent relationship. And then opening our prize to be shocked by dildos and cock rings. Kind of wish I didn’t go on a tirade and toss those to all your coworkers now.”
“As if you would have used them,” she scoffs.
“Uh, Pips, you’re damn right I would have used them. If I had known that we’d be hooking up in the sex cabin, I would have kept every single thing, even the nipple picture.”
She laughs. “You know, I kind of miss the nipple picture.”
“So do I. Also, what the hell happened to the porn videos? Weren’t we supposed to get those every night?”
She pauses to think about it. “Were we?”
“I don’t know. I thought we were.”
“Maybe they didn’t send because we were fighting, and they saw the room all cleared out. I bet you they checked on our room every day to ask the walls if we were doing it. You know how Sanders is. He probably told everyone to hold with the sex until we were actually ready for the sex.”
“So does that mean there could be a video tonight?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Do you want a video?”
“I want to watch one with you,” I say honestly. “I think it would be hot as hell, seeing you get turned on, letting me play with you while you watch.”
“You’d like that?”
“Fuck yes, Pips. I’d love to fuck you with my tongue while you were turned on by someone else getting off. You don’t think that sounds hot?”
“I mean…I never thought of things like that before. My sex life was very bland with Matt. There wasn’t much that we did other than the regular things because he felt comfortable doing that. So watching someone else get off while I was getting off, I don’t know…maybe that does sound thrilling.”
I move my hand under her shirt and say, “Well, if they don’t send us a video, then we can do it when we get back to the city.”
I feel her stiffen. “Back to the city?” she asks.
“Uh, yeah. Do you think this is over when camp is over?”
“I don’t know.” She turns to look at me. “I thought that maybe this was just a here thing.”
I lift my brows. “Do you want it to just be a here thing?” She wets her lips, and I can see she’s about to say “I don’t know,” so I cut her off. “Tell me the truth. Don’t tell me that you don’t know. Don’t beat around the bush because you’re scared of what I might say or do. Tell me what you want.”
She looks down and takes a few seconds but then says, “I don’t want to get hurt. Matt hurt me…badly. And being here with you, that’s helped me so much with dissecting those feelings and finding closure. But I know where you stand when it comes to relationships, so…I don’t want to grow too attached, you know? I think fooling around here, having some fun, I think that’s fine. But I don’t know what that means for after camp.”
I get it.
I really do.
She’s strong but she’s also incredibly fragile. I understand that feeling of not wanting to get hurt, and it’s not like I’ve given her any indication that I’d be ready and willing to be in a relationship. Hell, I don’t even know where I stand with all that.
I do know that I like Scottie. A lot. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. She intrigues me. She keeps my attention. She challenges me. She makes me laugh. She’s fucking fun to be around, and if that wasn’t enough, she drives me fucking wild with need, and I’ve never felt that before. I’ve never felt this unfiltered urge to claim someone, to make them mine. But the second her lips met mine, there was something inside me that snapped, popped, that woke me the fuck up and told me to pay attention.
And now that I am paying attention, I know one thing for certain: I don’t think I want this to end in a few days. I want to keep seeing her, but given the doubt she carries in her chest thanks to her ex, I don’t think me coming out and saying I want to try things out with her will go over well. I know that doubt would creep in, especially after I told her I wasn’t ready for a relationship. So maybe I need to handle this a little differently.
“I respect that,” I say. “But I need you to know something, Scottie.” I smooth my palm over her stomach. “I have no intention of hurting you. Ever.”
“I know that. I’ve found that out quickly while being here with you.”
“And I like you…a lot. Okay. And I don’t need you to respond or really say anything about what life is going to look like after we leave camp, but I do need you to sit on those two facts. I would never hurt you. And I like you. Can you do that for me?”
She nods her head. “Yes, I can do that.”
“Good,” I answer and then bring my hand down to the waistband of her shorts. “Now, spread your legs.”
“What?” she asks.
I lean in close to her ear and whisper, “Spread your legs.” I undo the button and zipper on her jean shorts and then pull her shirt up and over her head, leaving her in just her bra.
“Wilder,” she says in shock.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” I say. “You have all the control, Pips.” I kiss the side of her cheek. “Tell me no.” I drag my hand up to her breasts, where I wait for her to stop me, for her to ask for her shirt back, but when she doesn’t, I pull on the cup of her bra and release one of her breasts. I stare down at her over her shoulder and marvel at her hardened nipple. “These fucking tits. I’m addicted.”
I pass my thumb over the hard nub a few times while my other hand runs along the waistline of her underwear. Her body sinks into mine, and I love the comfort she finds in being with me. The trust she has that I was able to win because of my care, because of my patience.
With my index finger and my thumb, I roll her nipple, pinching ever so slightly and causing her to lift her chest and moan.
“Yes, Wilder.”
“Fuck, I love how responsive you are.” I bring my lips to her neck, and I suck on the spot below her ear while I continue to play with her nipple, circling around it, flicking it, and then pinching it. She brings her hand to the back of my neck, and she holds on as she raises her chest and then lets it fall, her breath taking control.
“More,” she says.
“You wet?”
“Yes,” she groans.
“Prove it.”
She pauses and then on a whisper asks, “How?”
“Touch yourself, Pips, and bring your fingers to my mouth.”
She’s hesitant at first, but then she carefully slides her hand between her legs.
“Don’t pull out right away. Play with your clit. Rub it for me.”
Her teeth pull on her lip before I watch her hand start to work between her legs, the jean fabric shielding me from viewing her touch herself.
“That’s it, Pips. Rub that clit. Play with yourself. Pretend it’s me playing with you.”
“I wish it was,” she groans. “You’re so much better.”
Smiling, I say, “Then bring your fingers to my mouth and prove that you’re ready for me.”
She pulls her hand from between her legs and lifts her hand to my mouth. I suck her fingers past my lips and taste her, the first hit of the day, and she tastes just as good as she did last night. Fuck, why didn’t I fuck her with my tongue this morning? Big mistake.
“That’s a good girl.” I then push down on her shorts, because I know my hand won’t fit properly under them, and she sheds them to the side, leaving her in a pair of green bikini briefs. They rise high on her hip but cover her entire ass, and I have never found anything so sexy in my life. She’s not dressing in a thong every day. No, she wears comfortable yet sexy underwear, and I’m so goddamn obsessed. “Spread your legs and bring them up.”
She listens so well and drapes her legs over mine, keeping them wide and in place.
I take out her other breast, and then with both hands, I start playing with her. I drag my fingers around and around her nipples, making circles and watching as they grow impossibly hard.
“Please, Wilder,” she begs, the sound so euphoric. “Please touch me.”
“Patience,” I whisper and lightly dance my right hand across the elastic of her underwear, teasing her, then moving my fingers back to her breasts with a featherlight touch, barely caressing her skin.
When I catch a wave of goose bumps breaking out over her body, I do it again, passing my fingers over her skin with such light pressure that she attempts to lift her body for a deeper sensation.
“Patience,” I whisper again and bring my fingers to her taut nipples, where I lightly roll them.
“Fuck,” she drags out, her head pressing into my shoulder. “Harder.”
God, she could get her nipples pierced, the way she reacts to my touch. I bet she’d fucking love it. I pinch her nipples harder, and she lets out a long moan.
“Uhnnnn, yes.”
From that one sound, my dick presses into her back, aching for relief, wanting to play, but this is about her. So I drag my fingers back down her stomach, floating them over her underwear, teasing, playing, never going near where she wants me.
“God, please,” she says, her legs spreading. “I’m so wet.”
“Mm,” I growl into her ear. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
I keep one hand on her breast while slipping the other beneath her underwear, sliding my fingers over her slit. I love how aroused she is.
“Motherfucker,” I say as I nibble her neck, only to kiss the spot. “You’re so fucking wet, Pips.”
I slide my fingers over her hard clit and marvel at how her legs fall open even farther, how she relaxes into me, and how she tilts her head to the side, granting me more access to her neck.
I take advantage and start nibbling up the column and back down while I circle her clit and her nipple at the same time. I get lost in the feel of her, in the way I can so easily bring her to a point of arousal that has her begging, pleading for me to bring her relief.
I love it.
I fucking need it.
I bite down on her shoulder, and she yelps as I slide my fingers farther and inside her.
“Yes, Wilder. Right there,” she says as I move my fingers in and out of her while my thumb plays with her clit.
Her breathing grows heavier, nearly erratic. Her hand clamps over mine, keeping me in place, and her body tenses as her orgasm climbs.
“Fuck, yes, right there. Please don’t stop.”
“Never, baby,” I whisper as I bite down on her again, causing her walls to contract around my fingers.
“God, yes. Please. Again.”
I bite one more time and follow it with a lick of my tongue. She cries out my name and encourages me to move faster with my thumb. So I circle her clit, over and over and over again until her legs start to clamp around me, her hand tightens over mine, and her mouth falls open.
“Fuck,” she yells just before she tilts over the edge and starts calling out my name while her orgasm takes her over. “Oh God, Wilder. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”
I relentlessly play with her, loving how she closes around my fingers, pulsing. I envision it being my dick inside her and how great it would feel. How great it felt last night and this morning. Seriously, her mouth is a sin, but that cunt of hers, what I wouldn’t fucking give to be deep inside her right now.
When she finally catches her breath, I lick my fingers clean.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” I whisper.
She lifts up and turns around to face me. Her face is flushed, her hair is ragged from thrashing against me, and her tits are still out of her bra as she kneels between my legs and starts undoing my pants.
I stop her and say, “Scottie, you don’t have to?—”
“Don’t tell me what I don’t have to do. I need your cock in my mouth.”
Well, I’m not going to stop her when she says shit like that. So I allow her to undo my pants, and then I lift up so she can drag them down along with my briefs. My cock stretches upward, and a satisfied smile spreads across her lips before she grips the base of my length and starts slowly squeezing. Short pumps of her hand, just squeezing while her mouth hovers over the head. And the anticipation, it’s fucking killing me. Because I know what that mouth feels like. I know how that tongue can dance over my piercings. I know what that throat can do.
“Babe,” I whisper. “Keep doing that, and I’ll come.”
“Good.”
“No, I want you to swallow me.”
She looks up at me, grins, and says, “I want it more than you.” Then she peeks out her tongue and starts dancing the tip over my piercings, and I swear to fuck, she knows how much it drives me crazy.
One of the reasons I got the piercings was because I thought it would distract me. I got the ones that I did because the sensation of playing with them and fucking with them is so much stronger.
“Jesus,” I breathe out as I push her hair out of her face and cup her cheek softly. “Keep…keep doing that.”
Precum wets the tip of my dick, and without even a second thought, she licks it right up.
Then she looks up at me and says, “I want more.”
“Then let me fuck your mouth.”
Grinning, she moves to the side and lies down. Seeing what she wants, I sit up and straddle her before bringing my cock to her mouth and running the piercings over her lips. Her tongue peeks out, playing, teasing, and I let it happen even though I need to be inside her mouth. I’m waiting for her to take charge.
And she fucking does because as she’s playing with my piercings, her hand moves between my legs and grips my balls.
My body falls forward from the light squeeze, and I prop myself up with my hands.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, realizing that this has to be some of the greatest pleasure I’ve ever experienced. No one has ever played with my balls as much as she has, and I’m realizing that this is a necessity in my life.
Her thumb drags between them, tugging just hard enough for me to enjoy it.
And as I start to get comfortable with the feel of her hand and the pressure of her tongue, she brings her finger to the spot just behind my balls, and she presses down.
My fist punches the ground in surprise as I buck my hips and yell, “Fuck me!” as a shock wave of pleasure flies up my spine. “Holy fuck.”
I have no time to adjust as she opens her mouth wide and takes me inside her warmth. And that about does it. I lose control and start thrusting into her mouth. Her tongue slides against the underside of my cock, her throat gags when I hit the back of it, and she continues to play with my balls, rolling them and lightly squeezing, firing me off in all aspects.
“Fuck me…fuck…uhhhhh,” I groan as she handles me like she’s been doing it for years. “Fuck, baby, you’re so good. So fucking good.”
I thrust over and over, and she starts to swallow when I hit the back of her throat, causing my eyes to roll in the back of my head.
It’s too much.
Too fucking much.
My balls start to tighten, my muscles bunch at the base of my spine, and my cock swells just as she swallows one more time.
I pull out of her mouth, grip my cock, and say, “Open.”
She keeps her mouth open, and I finish all over her tongue, watching drop after drop hit her until my orgasm wears off.
“Shit,” I mutter as I try to catch my breath.
I watch with hungry eyes as she swallows me. Then I bend down, and I bring my lips to hers to kiss her softly and whisper, “You’re too perfect. Everything about you. Too fucking perfect.”