Chapter Seven
The Morning Wood
Ingrid
Wilder kisses the side of my face, waking me in the dark room.
Ugh. We're officially getting on the road today.
Honestly, I'm shocked Queen Isla of the Decrepit and Feeble agreed to work my shift at Loretta's for the next two weeks. She must be hurting for money. Or she's trying to get in my good graces after watching from the shadows as Wilder installed my new doorknob. That actually locks.
Whatever, I'll take it.
I imagine Isla's mature lover makes decent money.
Then again, his house supposedly burned down.
That's... kind of sad. I feel bad for the guy.
I mean, I don't hate Professor Harvey the Student Impregnator.
I just hate that I have to listen to him engage in activities with my sister that are reprehensible, repulsive, and revolting.
“I'm tired,” I groan as Wilder's arm wraps around my midsection. He rubs his morning wood against me as he smirks. We're still naked from last night's sexcapade.
Despite the dread I feel traveling with my ex-boyfriend and current boyfriend, I smile. Wilder wants me.
This might sound strange, but I thought after a few months of dating, Wilder would get tired of me. Or bored. Or uninterested. I thought he'd want to go back to his old, philandering ways. I figured he'd want out eventually. He'd want to reintroduce Wild Cox to the dating pool.
But here he is a year later, still hard for me at four-thirty in the morning.
And they say romance is dead.
“What do you say?” Wilder coos in my ear as his fingertips slide along my thigh. “Should we give Isla and Grandpa Harvey a parting gift?”
Goosebumps pebble my skin from the low cadence of his voice. “And what exactly does that mean?”
“I'm thinking 'Harder, Wilder' sounds like a fitting present.” His voice is like summer honey. Deliciously sweet and sticky.
“I don't know,” I play coy. “I wouldn't want to wake the whole house up.”
Wilder's fingers slip between my thighs, gently caressing the swollen bundle of nerves there.
“You're so wet.” He smiles against my ear.
A blush creeps up my cheeks as I spread my legs, needing more contact.
“Ingrid,” he mumbles against my hair as his fingers trail a tantalizing path. I hold back a gasp as he plunges his fingers inside me, a soft sound filling the room.
“More,” I breathe out.
“Get on your hands and knees,” Wilder instructs as a spear of heat slips down my spine.
I flip onto my stomach before pushing myself up on all fours. I'm not sure if Harvey the Hobbling Senior Citizen will hear this without his hearing aids, but I hope Isla does. I hope she's as disgusted as I am every morning when she and her gray-haired paramour copulate loudly and inappropriately.
Wilder's hands grip my hips before he pushes into me, filling me until his body presses harder against mine.
At the same moment, we both sigh, and I relax despite the heaviness forcing my eyelids closed every few seconds.
The thrusts are long and slow as Wilder's thighs smack against mine. I don't know how much time passes, but every roll of his hips draws a throaty moan from my lips.
“Louder,” Wilder coaxes as his pace increases and his fingertips dig into the flesh on my backside. “I want Grandpa Harvey to hear you even without his hearing aids.”
I smile, biting back a laugh as he tilts my hips to the side, getting a better—deeper—angle.
The intensity of his cock slapping against the sensitive spot inside me makes my nipples harden and my legs shake.
“Louder,” he demands as another moan leaves my mouth.
My head spins and my breathing is shallower than before as Wilder lifts my ass, pulling my knees off the crumpled comforter and pushing himself further inside me.
“Wilder,” his name comes out in a strangled moan.
“Good girl,” he praises behind me as my hands dig into the mattress. “You're doing so good, Ingrid.”
The headboard slams against the wall as Wilder jack-hammers into me. I usually put a pillow behind it at Mom's request. Whoops. We might actually wake the whole house if we keep this up.
“Wilder,” I say again.
“You're so close,” he responds as his thumb strokes the inside of my thigh. “Give in. Give in to me, Ingrid.”
My eyes squeeze shut as my limbs tremble and my stomach quivers. Blood pumps through my ears as I let go and my back arches.
“Yes!” Wilder shouts as he keeps up the pace, his movements sloppy and loose.
I'm not sure how loud my moans or screams or whatever are, but my throat is hoarse when I say, “Fill me up, Wilder.”
Seconds later, he's stiff and rigid before dropping my hips and bending over me, his mouth pressing a chaste kiss to my shoulder as he unloads in me.
Warmth spreads between my thighs as we breathe hard, neither of us moving.
“You were so fucking loud,” Wilder proudly proclaims. “I'm pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard that.”
“It was kind of nice,” I manage to get out. “Not holding back.”
There's a sharp knock on my door. “Ingrid?”
No. That’s the last voice I want to hear after sex.
My eyes widen in horror. “Dad?”
“Can you please get dressed and come downstairs?” He sternly requests on the other side of the door. “Wilder, too.”
We. Are. Screwed.
I clear my throat. “Yep.”
Wilder chuckles as he pulls out of me and I collapse on the bed.
“You think Jason is going to ground us?” he laughs.
I shrug half-heartedly. “No, but he might start charging me rent.”
“For having sex with me?”
“For not putting a pillow behind the headboard,” I clarify.
“Cash isn't using his mansion,” Wilder jokes. “We could go live there for free, and you can scream as loud as you want.”
“That's not a bad idea,” I say as I prop myself up on my elbow. “There are so many rooms to defile in that place.”
“Twelve,” Wilder answers. “Twelve rooms.”
“Who needs twelve rooms?” I guffaw.
“People who don't like each other,” Wilder whispers, reaching for me.
He kisses me, and a scary thought crosses my mind. What if this trip changes everything?
What if sex is the only thing we have in common anymore?
Wilder's arms snake around me and he tugs me flush against him.
“My dad is going to kill me,” I groan into Wilder's neck.
“We’ll be gone for a week,” he reminds me. “That’s plenty of time for him to cool down.”
“We better...” I trail off as my phone lights up on my bedside table.
I'm sure that's a message from Dad.
“Get dressed,” Wilder finishes for me.
“Ugh,” I sigh as I roll off him, and search in the dark for clothes on my floor. When I find something soft that feels like sweatpants, I quickly put them on. “I'm going to run to the bathroom and clean up.”
I leave Wilder in my room and tiptoe down the hall. Isla's door is closed and there doesn't appear to be any light seeping out of the cracks around the edges. I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Quickly, I pee, brush my teeth, throw my blond hair into a messy bun, and make my way back to my room. Wilder's yawning and stretching in the doorway, but he reaches for me and pulls me in for a hug. The anxiety leaves my body as I listen to the sound of his heartbeat. Lup dup. Lup dup. Lup dup.
“You ready?” He ruins the moment with words.
“I'd rather be sleeping,” I reply sounding more snarky than I mean to. “Why didn't we plan on leaving after breakfast?”
“Because,” Wilder shakes his head, “road trips are supposed to start before dawn.”
“Says who?” I argue as we trudge down the stairs.
“Everyone.” Wilder scoffs. “Literally everyone.”
When I reach the living room, I let out the breath I've been holding. Dad must be in the kitchen. Which means he's drinking his morning coffee. Which also means he'll be in a semi-decent mood.
Sure enough, Dad's pouring himself a cup when we enter, the kitchen light bright and agitating.
“Ingrid.” Dad's voice is stern and cold.
Uh oh.
“Dad,” I reply with equal coolness.
“Wilder,” Wilder adds, including himself.
Dad turns and shoots Wilder a tense look. “You two have been busy this morning.”
“Uh...” My mind empties of all rational thought.
“Your road trip partner stopped by while you two were knocking boots,” Dad raises an eyebrow. “And walls.”
I swallow hard. “Cash was here?”
“He was until you two made a grown man blush in front of his youngest daughter's ex-boyfriend,” Dad says, letting out a perturbed exhale.
“Oh my gosh,” I say, dropping my head into my hands. This is excruciating. Cash was here? Cash heard... that?
“I'm sorry, Mr. Winthrop,” Wilder apologizes. “Won't happen again.”
I see Dad roll his eyes through the slots in my fingers. “Doubtful, but thanks for... for... I don't even know what.”
“Well.” I smack my lips together and lift my head. “We should get on the road.”
“I'm going to need you to leave a key for your room,” Dad says to me.
My face falls. “Why?”
There’s no way in hell Queen Isla of the Senile Subcontinent is going to get her greasy hands on my room.
“In case of emergency,” Dad defends himself, holding up both of his hands. “I won't let Isla in there.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” he answers as he grabs his coffee off the counter and takes a long sip.
“Anything else?” I ask.
Dad shakes his head. “Nope. Just remember to drive careful, have fun, and don't get lost.”
“Excellent advice, Mr. Winthrop,” Wilder quips, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
“Stop being a kiss ass,” Dad chides Wilder. “I'm not Jill. I don't care if you can fix a printer. Not after listening to...” Dad trails off as he shudders. “Whatever that was this morning.”
Rocking my world. That's what it was.
But I keep that thought to myself.
“Cash told me to tell you two nymphomaniacs he'll be waiting outside when you're ready to go,” Dad sighs.
“He called us nymphomaniacs?” Wilder tilts his dark head to the side, intrigued.
“No.” Dad runs a hand over his face. “He called you sexual deviants, but I thought nymphomaniac sounded less... judgmental.”
“Coming from the guy who didn't sleep with Blondie for four months,” Wilder huffs. “What a—”
But I shove an elbow into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. “We should get going. Thanks, Dad.”
I move to give Dad a kiss on the cheek, but he flinches a little.
“Sorry,” he offers. “Just... kind of hard to look at you or... well, you know.”
“Right,” I say as I swallow hard and step back. “We should go.”
“I love you,” Dad tries.
“I love you, too,” I tell him as Wilder's fingers slip into mine and he yanks me out of the kitchen.
A week on the road is starting to look better and better as the minutes pass.
“Why do I always say dumb shit around your dad?” Wilder whisper-yells as we rush up the stairs.
“Because,” I groan, “you want him to like you.”
Wilder scoffs. “Doesn’t he already?”
Honestly? I’m not sure.
So, I say nothing.
“Doesn’t he?” Wilder’s voice drops an octave.
I shake my head at him as we round the banister. “I don’t know, Wilder. Maybe.”
He goes to say something, but standing outside my door is a haggard-looking Queen Isla the Room Stealer.
“You two,” she grits out, shooting daggers at us with her eyes. “Why do you have to fuck so loud?”
“Why do you have to?” I snap back.
She places a hand over her mouth and closes her eyes.
She’s going to throw up, isn’t she?
“Next time,” she continues weakly, “keep it down please.”
Her face looks awfully pale. Like she might puke at a moment's notice.
“I'll keep it down when you do,” I retort, flashing my eyebrows at her.
“At last your boyfriend can stay hard,” she grumbles as she heads back to her room, steadying herself against the wall.
I didn’t need more info on her sex life.
“She looks rough,” Wilder smirks.
“It’s hard being queen,” I sigh.
Enjoy your parting gift, Queen Isla!