Chapter 27
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
HUDSON
I ’d been prepared to leave—with a lot of whining and pain—but Wilde doesn’t take that option. Is it cocky of me to say that I knew he never would?
Maybe we should be talking more or sorting through the landslide of issues that exists between us, but talking can come later when I’m able to concentrate on anything other than how good this feels.
His confidence and the way he knows exactly what he wants and isn’t worried about demanding it does things to me that I probably shouldn’t feel, but I’m not going to fight it. Not when my dick is so enticingly hard.
Wilde maybe has an inch on me, if that, so we’re almost eye to eye as we breathe through this intense arousal, and I watch his face for any sign of doubt.
He’s backing me up, hands a steady presence on my hips as we head back toward the shore. Our cocks skim under the water, and all it does is tease me harder .
“I think I hate your beard as much as you hate my eyelashes,” I tell him.
Wilde pauses where the water reaches mid-shin and briefly squeezes his hold tighter. “Lie down.”
I do as I’m told, half on the rocky shoreline while the water laps at my calves. Wilde’s big body covers mine, and the heat of the day and light brush of the breeze mean nothing with his body warmth taking over.
He dips his mouth by my ear. “One day, when my beard is scraping your inner thighs, I’ll ask you what you think of it then.”
Just the thought of it sends phantom ripples along my legs and into my balls.
Wilde buried between my thighs sounds like heaven, and I’m tempted to ask for it now—even if it means crawling all over this fucking place—but then he thrusts slowly on top of me, and that need settles.
His body against mine, our wet cocks rubbing together, the way his biceps bulge from where he’s holding himself up on his forearms … this is what I need.
“Look at us, face-to-face,” I tease, trying to pull his attention to me. His eyes stay locked to the ground beside my head. “Didn’t even need to force you this time. You’re addicted already, aren’t you?”
“Can I get through one orgasm without hearing your voice?”
“Never. I know it gets you good and riled up.”
He thrusts down harder, one hand taking my leg and hitching it up to give him more room to move. Our wet bodies slide together easily, and the weight pressing me into the ground, combined with the gentle water lapping at our legs, makes this feel like a fever dream.
I take hold of his sides, hands running up to his shoulders and back down his back.
His skin is almost dry from the sun, burning up and addictive under my palms. I reach the dip in his lower back before moving on to his ass.
It’s all muscle. Steady muscle from days of hard work that flexes sluttily in my grip with every roll of his hips.
“Fuck …” I breathe into his ear.
I think this is the first time we’ve been completely naked together, and having him flush against me is heating my blood.
His beard scratches at my cheek and neck, and for all my taunting, it only nudges my senses higher.
Makes my brain wander to the thought of kissing him and how it would feel.
Would my lips end up reddened, like a walking advertisement to everything we’re doing, or would it be soft enough to avoid leaving me raw?
Wilde’s never shown interest in wanting to kiss me though, so I’ll never know, which is a pity since I find kissing so fucking hot. Being in control is important to him, and while I’ll push him with some things, I’m okay with letting Wilde take the lead.
His steely cock ruts against mine, our balls pressing together, making the whole area alive with want. It’s bliss, and I could lie here all day having Wilde move on top of me like this, but there’s an itching need that’s become impossible to ignore.
He hasn’t looked at me once, and I crave his attention more than I crave blowing my load.
Before Wilde can stop me, I grab hold of him and flip us so Wilde’s back meets the rock, and then I settle up on top of him.
There’s confusion and unasked questions in his gaze, but I ignore them as I sit on his thick thighs, cock to cock, skin prickling tighter under his heavy focus.
Our eyes meet as I spit into my palm and then wrap it around us both.
He’s trying to look unaffected, but every tightening of his throat, every time his lips part or his hips thrust up into my fist, seeking friction, I see the control chip away bit by bit .
“Do you like what you see?” I ask, fucking my fist, frustrated that I can’t get a good grip in my left, but it’s only dragging this on longer.
Keeping my need skimming along the surface, holding out for that moment until the wave collides and it’s over.
With our beyond-rocky relationship, I want to hold on to these moments for as long as I can, hoping they’ll drug us with endorphins and ensure there’s no end in sight.
The more we do it, the more I’m finding my attraction to him growing.
It’s not just the danger and wanting to best him; it’s the scent of pine trees and salt water that clings to his skin.
It’s those deep gray eyes that try to hide what’s going on behind them and failing.
It’s the road map of scars that tells a story he’s keeping close to his chest.
I’ve never met anyone like Wilde, and I have no idea yet whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing.
I just know that this is another one of those stupid choices I’m so good at making.
This will either end with an all-out town war or me leaving once my job here is done.
As long as we stay in it only for the sex, that works for me, but when Wilde lifts a large, calloused hand and sets it over my pec before dragging it down my torso, it brings my whole body alive.
This euphoric high that I can’t get enough of.
I want him to look, to touch, to burn me from the inside out. I want to be Wilde’s sole focus. I want to consume his thoughts, all day, all night, like he’s been doing to me. My balls tighten with the idea of him becoming addicted. With him needing me.
“You didn’t answer,” I push. He’s bucking underneath me, seeking the relief I am. “Do you like what you see?”
I’m not expecting an answer, so he surprises me with his deep rasp. “You’re too fucking sexy for words.”
Lust shivers down my spine .
Wilde’s thumb flicks over the stiff peak of my nipple. “If I could reach, I’d sink my teeth into this sexy nipple.”
“You like my nipples?” I ask as they prickle tighter under his praise.
“I unwillingly like every fucking inch of you. How can one man be so irritating and look so fucking …”
I lean forward, planting my hand near his head, and Wilde wraps his hand around us. My left hand gets caught in his grip, and he crushes our cocks together in a way that almost makes me come.
“So fucking what?” I manage to choke out.
His teeth clench together.
“What were you going to say?”
“Nothing. It’s the orgasm talking.”
“Then let it talk.” I lean my face in closer.
It takes a whole minute of panting before Wilde pulls his stare to mine. “So fucking perfect .”
The praise, the appreciation, it’s too much for my little mind.
I fuck his grip like I’m losing control, and I can feel him unraveling beneath me.
With every second of desperate hunger that passes between us, I’m expecting him to look away.
I wait for the connection to drop. For me to lose his attention.
But those gunmetal eyes are locked on mine, gaze focused and penetrating. Our labored breathing meets in the few inches between us, and I don’t know what Wilde sees when he looks at me, but for those few razor-sharp seconds, he lets me see too much.
Something tugs deeper inside my chest than I’ve ever felt before, but it doesn’t last long.
The pleasure rippling at the base of my spine takes over, and I’m done for.
I fuck our fists, lost in the glide of our precum as my balls tighten almost painfully, teasingly, and then …
the release I need hits. The orgasm melts away ev ery thought I’ve ever had as I sink into the high and finally have the relief I’ve craved all week.
Wilde follows me over the edge, and feeling his cock pulse against mine is something I want to experience for too many more moments to count.
Before I can follow that thought too far along, I roll off him, back against the hot rocks, water on my legs feeling cool against my overheated skin.
Wilde’s chest is rising and falling as fast as mine, and when my gaze dips lower, I’m treated to the view of our cum mixed together in the hair sprinkled over his torso.
He doesn’t look at me, so I have all the time I want to look at him. He’s … unpolished. It’s not something I ever thought I’d find hot, but on him, it feels raw and honest in a way I’ve never considered before. The only thing out of place is his sleeve of tattoos.
“You don’t strike me as a tattoo kind of guy” is the first thing I say.
He goes on staring at the sky, ignoring me, before he extends that arm between us, tilting it over so I get a good view of his inner arm. And the scar that runs almost from wrist to elbow.
I don’t waste my breath asking about it, just roll onto my side to get a better look.
It’s an old one, probably as old as the smaller ones that cover his torso.
Most of them are uniform, like little nicks, but here and there, one is deeper, more twisted.
Whatever happened, his arm caught most of it.
He got his tattoos to hide it. The twisted linework does well to incorporate the milky skin into the design.
And Wilde willingly shared that with me.
“I like it.”
He tugs his arm away, then pushes to his feet. “I’m going to clean up.”
I watch him stride into the water, gaze locked on his broad back, wondering about all the things he won’t talk about. There’s more to him than the growly mountain man I first encountered, but I have a good feeling I’ll never get those answers.
I join him in the water, not in a hurry to leave and, for once, not having much to say. It’s a weird sort of silence, heavy with curiosity, but peaceful too.
It lasts until we both get dressed and leave.