Chapter Three #2
“T-thank you?” I squeak, my skin prickling with heat.
His lips follow the path his eyes just traced. Down my throat. Across my collarbone. Lower.
I gasp when his mouth finds my breast, my fingers tangling in his hair as an electric sensation explodes through me.
“Wilder…” I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice.
He hums against my skin, and the vibration makes me arch toward him without thinking.
His hands move lower, undoing my jeans with practiced ease. The sound of the zipper is loud in the quiet room. I should feel embarrassed. But I don’t.
I feel wanted. Tangible…for the first time in my life.
He slides my panties off next, and I find myself lifting my hips to give him easier access. Then one of his fingers nudges into my folds, and I forget how to breathe, my body coiling in anticipation.
“Do you know what I’m about to do to you, baby girl?” he asks, the pad of his thumb lightly grazing over my clit.
I press my legs together to relieve some of the ache building in my core. My face heats, my heart pounding.
“N-no,” I stutter.
“I’m about to make you come with my fingers,” Wilder says, lowering his mouth to my neck again. He’s using his tongue now, slowly trailing a path to my shoulder. “I’m going to touch you all over, learn you, and know what pleasures you most…” he murmurs, his mouth gliding back up toward my ear.
He palms my breast and gives it a slow, sensuous squeeze. His finger on my clit presses inward just a little, creating a quick, electric stab of pleasure.
“Are you ready?” He slides his toward my entrance, teasing me, making my whole body tingle with unbelievable need.
“Yes…yes, please,” I say quickly. Even I can hear the desperation in my voice, but I don’t care at this point. I want it—everything he has to offer.
“Okay, baby girl,” he murmurs as his finger dips slightly into my pussy then withdraws, making me gasp.
“Wilder!” I gasp sharply, shocked by the immense wave of desire that shoots through me.
His mouth grazes my ear. “You smell delicious, sweetheart. I just want to eat you up.”
And then he strokes my clit once, slowly. Deliberately.
My hips snap forward, and his finger slides down again, penetrating further this time. I moan then gasp as his other hand moves to my breasts, teasing them both with palpable hunger.
I jerk in his arms as the pleasure spikes. His finger doesn’t linger in me, he returns it to my clit and starts circling it again. He presses harder, now rolling the slick little ball under the pads of three fingers.
He drags his mouth to my ear. He sucks on my lobe, murmuring huskily, “You’re so wet here.” He abandons my clit to slide into my pussy with two fingers this time. I gasp loudly, the sound echoing against the walls.
“So wet for me,” he growls, pumping his fingers, curling them inside me. I whimper.
He switches back and forth for a while, rubbing my clit until my body starts to tremble. Then he increases his pace, his eyes boring darkly into mine, holding me hostage to the desire swirling in their depths.
My walls tighten involuntarily around his fingers, my body overwhelmed with a rush of sensations. He keeps murmuring in my ear, his voice dark and velvety. I’m panting now, gasping for breath, my body thrumming from head to toe.
“You’re tight,” he growls. “I can almost feel your little pussy gripping my cock. Stretching around me. Sopping wet...” He grinds against me as he says it.
His teeth graze my shoulder, free hand rising to circle my throat very lightly.
“I want to press you up against the wall and fuck you right here,” he says in a guttural, almost bestial voice.
“I want to feel you come on my cock. Make you scream with it.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I moan, grinding my hips in rhythm to his thrusts.
I don’t know why I said that, but the word does something to him.
His fingers curve inside of me, pushing deeper.
I gasp, my body jerking involuntarily beneath him.
Tears slide down the side of my face. Not from pain—but from feeling too much.
The sensation of his hands and mouth…the feeling of his cock pressing into my stomach… everything.
It’s too much yet nearly not enough.
Just when I think I’m going to come, he withdraws his fingers and returns to my clit, teasing and taunting the sensitive bud.
I gasp, raising myself slightly off the bed to see what he’s doing to me. The sight of his fingers—coated with my juices and gliding over my clit—is insanely erotic and just what I need to push me over the edge.
I cry out, low and ragged, bucking in his hold, gripping the sheets as I thrust against his still-moving fingers.
The pleasure is unbelievable, and I sob with its intensity, begging wordlessly for more. Grinding against his hand in total, shameless abandon.
“Look at me,” he says softly.
I do.
His eyes are dark now, almost black. Focused.
“Good girl. Who am I?”
“Wilder.”
“No, who am I?”
“Daddy…”
The movement of his hand stops, his body going rigid.
And just when I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong, I feel his cock twitch violently against me.
Then warmth spreads through the fabric where he’s pressed against my stomach.
I glance down at the damp evidence of his release and back up into his handsome face with a mixture of awe and curiosity.
Wilder lets out one last deep groan then shifts his body slightly so he’s lying on the bed. He pulls me against him, his arms tightening around my waist as I melt into him. The silence that follows is comforting. We don’t need words between us.
Just as I start to drift asleep, I feel the mattress dip and Wilder slowly pull away. A faint thread of panic flickers through my foggy brain. Unbidden. But I don’t react. I listen, heaving a small sigh of relief when I hear the bathroom door open, then the soft rush of water.
He comes back a moment later. The bed dips again as he kneels beside me before something warm brushes gently over my thigh.
I stir.
“Shh,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you, baby girl,” he adds, gently cleaning me with the soft cloth. Something lodges in my throat, a tightness that I can’t define.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Cleaning you up.”
Just that. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world. No one has ever cared for me this much—not even my mother.
When he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and pulls the covers over me. The mattress shifts as he slides back into bed, and a second later, his arm comes around my waist.
I melt into him like it’s second nature. His chest is warm against my back. Solid. Safe.
His hand settles low on my stomach, heavy and possessive, and he brushes his lips against my temple.
“Goodnight, baby girl.”
“Goodnight, Daddy,” I murmur, already drifting off.
My last thought before I lose grasp of reality is how warm and safe he feels…
Like home.