Chapter 37 #2
I quickly nod, even though I’m suddenly not sure I am good.
Something about the way we’re wrapped together, his breath on my neck, warm skin pressed flush with mine, feels so different from all the other times.
It’s not until Wilde’s fingers press to my hole, already covered with lube, that I realize I checked out for a second.
Like I’m trying to separate from all the emotions swimming inside me.
I relax into his intrusion, loving the feel of his thick fingers entering me. It’s not hurried or rough, just a gentle stretch as he adds a third that I take easier than I normally would, thanks to starting the prep before him.
He doesn’t seem in any hurry, alternating between stroking my entrance and sinking his fingers in deep. He’s stretching them open, teasing that spot that sends tingles racing through to my balls, and then he does something that makes my heart fucking stop.
He presses his lips to my shoulder.
It’s so unexpectedly tender that I turn to look as he does it again. It brings us nose to nose, close enough that his exhale plays over my lips, tingling with the need to meet his. Wilde’s eyes dance between mine, frown pulled tight like he’s as caught off guard by this moment as I am.
I inch forward, expecting him to retreat, but after a terrifyingly long second, Wilde leans in. Our mouths meet and the contact sends zaps shooting through my gut.
His lips are soft, his beard scratchy, and he kisses like he’s testing me. Like he’s curious if he’ll want more. My curiosity disappeared the second his lips touched mine, because I definitely want more, and I show him how much.
My tongue swipes his lips, and they crack open, just enough for me to take the chance.
I push forward, creating room to let out all these unwanted emotions, wanting to feed them into Wilde instead of me, but the moment our tongues connect, those emotions explode.
This crater fills my chest, digs in deep, a knuckling, scrappy, happy pain that has me kissing him deeper like I’m mining for more.
Wilde’s fingers leave me empty, and then his cock is pressing against my hole. I’m ready for him, and the whole time he’s pushing inside, he’s peeling me open and leaving me exposed.
I don’t need this because I’m horny.
It’s a new, fresh type of need that horny comes second to, and when he snaps his hips forward and fills me to the brim, the hammock shudders beneath us, rocking us together and making everything feel so damn right.
My kiss deepens, a desperate frenzy to hold on to this connection we’ve never forged before. He fucks me slow and deep, careful not to move against the hammock, and the gentle spearing, the pressure on my prostate, it’s bringing my orgasm alive.
He’s a hot weight pressed flush to my back, coarse leg hair bristling against mine, arms a heavy anchor as he wraps them around me and holds me tight, like any small gap between us would be a disaster.
Wilde deepens the kiss, spearing in my ass, deep and lingering in an almost uncontrolled way. His whole body is coiled tight like he’s holding back, and his strength has me leaking.
I give in to the need to touch myself, lapping up every one of Wilde’s moans as I press back onto him and then thrust into my hand. We’re tangled together, and I’ve lost all details other than naked skin and a propelling high.
He’s consuming me, all my senses overwhelmed as he fucks me into a coma.
I’m so used to fast and dirty quickies that this slow, sensual pounding is rearranging my brain chemistry.
We kiss until my jaw aches and my neck twinges.
We writhe together until I wouldn’t be surprised to see the sun kissing the horizon.
I have no idea how long we’re cocooned in this hammock, have no idea how long our bodies seek each other out, his cock dipping in and out, until I’m a frustrated, panting, sweating bundle of need.
My balls tighten, and the groan I feed him is unhinged.
“I’m close,” I rasp against his lips.
Wilde growls, and his feral need really does something for me.
“Come,” he demands, shallow thrusts speeding up. He buries his face in my neck. “Fuck, Hudson, please come.”
Who would have thought that Wilde begging could be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed? I strangle my cock, jerking myself hard and fast, needing to get there. My balls are aching for release, and I need that little more. That little nudge closer … closer …
Like he knows exactly how close I am, Wilde reaches up and pinches one of my nipples. The simmering pressure releases, a burst of pleasure, rolling through my shoulders, out to my limbs, causing my back to arch as my cock throbs out my load into my waiting hand.
I’m so shiveringly checked out that Wilde’s hard thrusts and deep grunts take a second to reach me.
“So tight … fuck … it’s fucking beautiful … the way … you come on my cock.”
It’s more affirmation than I’ve ever heard from him, and he stills, muscles locking up as he twitches behind me and milks out the last of his orgasm.
He slumps against my back, head bowed forward on my shoulder, damp hair twisted into tighter curls, and eyes closed as he catches his breath. I reach back and stroke my fingers through his hair before I realize what I’m doing, and Wilde arches into my touch before he picks up on it either.
I know the moment between us is fragile. That we’re kissing the edges of what we are, dangerously close to ruining everything. But if this is what ruin feels like, maybe I want it.
Maybe I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“I’m staying here tonight,” I whisper.
Wilde doesn’t respond.
But for the first time, I can understand his silence.
Yes .