Wild Ones
OLLIE
SEPTEMBER
Holy. Fucking. Shit. I’d always known Cash Mooney had a mouth on him, but I never even dreamed his mouth could do this.
Each lap of his tongue, every suck of my clit sent me skyrocketing toward an orgasm.
His calloused hands dug into my ass as he held me in place, his grip punishing, painful almost, and so fucking addicting.
Breaking and entering. Hooking up in the middle of the fucking arena. Begging me to ride that fucking porn stache of his like the little whore I was.
As if the cocky, hot as hell asshole couldn’t be any more perfect.
I should have known. I mean, I think a part of me had known. Seeing truly was believing. Not that I’d ever admit that aloud to him.
My skin felt too tight for my body, my nerves set aflame. Even my blood felt like it was boiling within my veins. I rolled my hips against his mouth, a moan ripping out of my throat as he speared his tongue into my wet cunt. Soaking, I was soaking fucking wet. For him.
“Fuck…Cash…” I was so close, poised right on the precipice. Teetering back and forth right on the edge of my desire.
I don’t even fully understand what he did, but the glorious, borderline painful pressure he put on my clit as he rolled it between his teeth felt like lightning flashing through me. My head fell back, my body shuddering as a scream wrenched from me. I came. Hard and fast.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Hopefully no one heard. Or hell, let them.
Let them come to investigate and see the show.
I didn’t care. He swirled his tongue and lapped at me until I felt like I might tear apart at the seams. But even as I eased off of him and melted onto the table cloth beside him, I wasn’t done.
I hadn’t had my fill of him yet. Honestly, something told me I might not ever.
Which was terrifying as all hell, but there was also a challenge that I wanted to explore.
Cash panted at my side, still recovering as I undid his belt buckle and jeans before reaching beneath the waistband of his underwear to grip his cock. A groan escaped him as I pumped my hand up and down. Fuck, well at least he lived up to the name.
“Fuck, sugar…that feels so fuckin’ good.”
I stopped only long enough to unbutton his shirt, exposing his ripped, chiseled chest and abs. Dear God, had he been cut from marble or something? I knew he had a killer body, but this was some Adonis level shit.
This man was going to absolutely wreck me… And I couldn’t wait.
“Show me why they call you Big Daddy,” I murmured, rising up beside him. “Show me what it’s like to be fucked by the great.” I kissed his abdomen. “Cash.” I moved onto his lips before straddling him. “Mooney.”
The look on his face was purely molten. And if that didn’t make desire pool low in my core, I don’t know what did. But ever the gentleman, he paused. “Hold on, I—”
I cut him off, already sensing where he was going. “I can’t get pregnant. Now shut the hell up and fuck me like one of your buckle bunny whores.”
Even in the darkness, the smile on his face was positively radiant. “Yes ma’am,” he murmured, before grabbing my hips and pulling me down onto his cock in one fell swoop.
My eyes practically rolled back in my head, a moan so low and vicious tearing out of me as I took him in his entirety.
Fuck. He didn’t go slow or soft. He didn’t take his time.
Each thrust of his hips was punishing, grueling, like a hurricane beating against the shore.
And I met him, stroke for stroke, rock for rock, reveling in the grandeur of this fucking man.
His calloused hands found their way to my hips before scraping up, up, up along my curves before settling on my tits.
“Fuck, sugar, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a set so fuckin’ perfect.” He leaned up, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking with an intensity that made me see stars.
If he kept doing that I was going to come again. I already felt that weightlessness that accompanied an orgasm, raising me higher and higher toward release. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted this to last forever.
I all but purred at his words. I wasn’t normally so much of a praise bitch, but knowing that he thought so highly of my rack sent a resounding ripple of lust through me. Was I going soft? Was I losing my edge?
He thrust into me again, so fucking hard I all but melted into him. You know what, fuck it, I didn’t care if I was or not. Not when fucking Cash Mooney felt like flying.
He released his unrelenting hold on my tit and I leaned down to kiss him. Grabbing the back of my neck, his fingers slid into my hair and tugged tight. Pain prickled across my scalp and I smiled against his lips.
“You like that?” he murmured.
I nipped at his bottom lip and nodded.
He pulled tighter and I couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled out of me.
“Look at you, Big Daddy’s little whore.” He smiled against my lips before kissing me once.
Twice more. And then, he flipped me over with far more ease than I’d have thought possible and bent me over before him.
He was inside me again before I could even mourn the loss of him, his hands drifting to my hips.
Right over the skeleton hands tattooed on each side.
Yes. Oh, fuck yes.
But he didn’t thrust. He didn’t move an inch for a long moment until I heard him mutter the familiar words tattooed right at the base of my back.
“Hold on tight.” A laugh rumbled through him like rolling thunder.
Fingers biting into my hips, he pumped his cock into me.
Hard. Fast. “Goddamn, sugar, you’re so fuckin’ perfect. ”
Glancing over my shoulder at him, I flashed him a feral grin and crooned, “Is that all you got, Big Daddy?”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair once more and tugged me back against him, his hot breath fanning against my neck while his free hand drifted to my tit.
He squeezed and kneaded, sending me closer to the edge.
His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming wilder, reckless.
He was close. So was I. Barely hanging on by a fucking thread.
And I wanted nothing more than for it to break.
As if he knew that, as if he was a goddamn mind reader, Cash Mooney clamped down on the base of my throat, right above my collar bone and sucked.
“That’s it, sugar. Come for me,” he murmured in my ear, thrusting his hips in a way that made me fall back against him as my orgasm hit me with the weight of a fucking freight train.
He thrust into me once, twice, a third time, and then his own release rocked through him.
Cash’s grip on my hair loosened before settling on my shoulder, his hold on my tit drifting to my hip as he sat back, pulling me into his arms so that he cradled me against him.
Our bodies rose and fell in tandem, our breaths labored from what we’d just done.
Cash nuzzled my neck where he bit it earlier. “Well, if you thought I claimed you before, you’re gonna be pissed now.”
Probably. But somehow I couldn’t really bring myself to care at the moment.
Not when my bones felt like they’d turned to putty and his touch filled me with a sense of calm I so rarely felt.
My life was all chaos and uphill battles—usually of my own making—and while it didn’t seem possible that someone as wild and reckless as Cash could even muster up the idea of peace, right now in his arms, there was a stillness, a contentedness that for the first time in my life I wished would never end.
I had no words for him. Not a snarky comment or even a smirk or playful glare.
There was a tightness in my chest as he leaned back, tugging me down onto him, but it wasn’t the bad kind.
Basking in the afterglow of something like what we’d just done wasn’t usually my cup of tea.
I was a love ‘em and leave ‘em type. No need for sweet nothings and soft kisses. I wasn’t soft.
I was rough waters and jagged edges. I was harsh deserts and haunted forests.
But if I was that, then Cash was open fields and rolling plains.
He was sunset beaches and big blue skies.
And for the first time in my life, I wanted to revel in the quiet stillness of this moment.
Snuggling into the crook of his arm, I listened to the sound of his breathing, his heart thumping a slow, steady rhythm in his chest.
I don’t know how much time passed—enough for my eyelids to feel like they weighed a million pounds. His voice was low, almost hesitant as he asked, “What’s Ollie short for?”
I stilled. I hated my real name. Hated more where it came from. Who it came from. “Who’s to say it’s short for anything?”
“Is it?” he asked, running his fingers through my hair. Fuck, that felt nice.
I inhaled deeply, holding the breath in for a long moment before exhaling, all the while trying to decide how much or how little about myself I wanted to reveal to him.
Mystery and secrets were my greatest weapons in this ruthless game of romance.
And yet I found myself biting out, “It’s short for Olina. ”
He tested out the name, that low, deep drawl of his rolling over me as he said, “Olina.”
It didn’t make me hate the name any less, but the way he said it sent a shiver spiderwebbing through me. I couldn’t help but look up at him, noting the softness on his face, the warmth glowing in his gaze.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured.
“I hate it.” Rolling my eyes, I let out a huff and settled deeper into his embrace, busying myself with trailing my fingertips over the hills and valleys of his cut physique. His muscles flexed and tightened beneath me.
A low chuckle escaped him. “That tickles.”
I sat up and looked down at him, a grin coming to my lips, grateful for the change in subject. “What?” I gasped. “Big Daddy has a flaw? He’s not as perfect as he seems?”
He reached up and grabbed my chin. “You think I’m perfect?” The confidence was there—it always was—but there was an unfamiliar earnestness as well.
I pinched my lips together, trying and failing to hold back the smirk forming there. “No one’s perfect.”
He sat up, a wide grin illuminating his ridiculously handsome face. “But I’m pretty damn close, ain’t I, sugar?”
I laughed, pushing him playfully as I replied, “Hardly.”
“Now, I know you’re lyin’,” he growled, pulling me down and flipping me over so I rested beneath him. The look in his eyes was sharp enough to cut glass, and yet the kiss he brushed against my lips was feather-soft.
“If you’re so sure of yourself, then why does it matter what I think?” I crooned, loving the way his body pressed into me.
“Cuz I like you, sugar.”
Warning bells rang in the back of my mind, red flags flying everywhere. “You better not be falling in love with me.” I meant to say it with more fire. More bite. But the words came out more breathy than anything else.
“Don’t worry, Olina. I remember our deal. And I guarantee you, if anyone’s gonna fall, it’s gonna be you.”
I thought of the story of Icarus once more. Of flying too close to the sun. I hoped when all of this was over—because all good things eventually came to an end—that I didn’t crash and burn completely.
Because if anyone had the power to make me fall in love… I think it might be him.