Chapter 43
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
HUDSON
I never in a million years thought Wilde would be here, in my bed, thick, hairy thighs straddling my waist and steely gray eyes locked on me, like it’s giving him strength.
“You don’t have to,” I remind him, gently holding his hips. My dick is so fucking hard, enticingly close to his hole, and I want to sink inside him almost more than anything. But if he’s not into this, I’d prefer he said that.
Wilde grunts and reaches back for my dick. Even through the condom, his grip makes me tremble, and it takes all my damn power to hold still as he lines me up. “I know I don’t,” he says petulantly before pressing down onto me.
It’s torture, all that initial weight before my aching tip breaches him.
Wilde’s slow, giving himself all the time he needs, but little by little, his ass swallows me, sucking me into that gloriously tight warmth.
I keep my damn ass planted on the bed so that I don’t give in to the urge to thrust into him.
It’ll happen. It’s coming. I only need to be patient, dammit .
Every inch he takes is satisfying that gut-deep lust, and by the time he settles over me, I’m in heaven.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I say, voice deeper and huskier than I mean it to be.
Not that anyone could blame me. My cock is buried inside my tough, mysterious mountain man, and he’s looking at me like there’s nowhere else he wants to be.
Wilde might not be great with words, but I think I could learn to live with that if he always looks at me the way he is right now.
He shifts, grinding my cock inside him, and my eyes almost rock back in my skull. There’s nothing like having Wilde wrapped around me, his large, solid body towering over me, and that magnificent cock arching up toward his belly button, swollen and needy for more.
I release him with one hand and stroke his shaft gently.
“You good?”
“So good.” He rocks back onto me again.
I’m so fucking horny, and he has to be aware of how turned on I am. His gaze is burning into me, filling me with all the attention I crave, and with the way my skin is prickling all over, I’ve never felt this alive.
Wilde lifts and lowers himself again, the tentative movements giving me exactly what I need to stay on edge. He’s like a coiled animal of pure muscle, and the smoother and faster he moves, the closer I get to losing control.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive it.
His ass is squeezing around me, and I love the feel of his cock passing through my fist, but I’m greedy.
It’s not enough. I want to touch him all over.
To feel his hard pecs, and enjoy his hairy torso, and kiss and bite those lips that are finally visible beyond the beard.
His gray eyes shine down at me, full of lust and something deeper, and my free hand rests against his outer thigh.
“You’re doing so good. ”
His lips twitch like he catches himself before he can laugh. “Not a hardship on my end, that’s for sure.”
Thank fuck he’s enjoying it too. He sets a pace above me, and when I’m sure he’s comfortable, I join in too. Meeting his movements to grind up into him, loving the way my cock feels as it sinks into his body over and over and over.
All that towering strength, the way his thigh muscles move as he lifts up and down, how easily he’s rocking back onto me, it has my mind twisted up into the most overstimulating high I’ve ever experienced.
He’s here. After twenty-four hours of this crushing sadness, his presence is stitching my shattered heart back together one thread at a time. I can’t stop touching him, like the realer this feels, the more I’ll believe it.
Every scar on his body, that deep one through his eye, knowing the source is like this secret key I have to Wilde that no one else gets to see.
What he’s been through, what he’s lost …
it makes so much sense that he’d shut down.
Hide away. Focus on his people and never himself, but I refuse to let him keep doing that.
He’s so passionate, so faithful, and so deserving of having someone on his side. My thumb circles his tip as I jerk him off, and I’m rewarded with a full-body shudder. But it’s not enough. I need him closer. Need him wrapped around me.
I roll us so Wilde’s back hits the mattress, and I press back inside him again. My face hovers inches above his, and before I second-guess kissing him, Wilde’s fingers are in my hair, tugging my mouth down to his.
I groan deeply into the kiss, working my thrusts harder.
His knees come up on either side of my hips, and his free hand grabs my ass, digging bruises into the skin.
We move together, and I’ve never been this turned on, never sunk this deeply into the moment during sex.
Normally, I’m too focused on making sure it looks good and half-detached as Sutton rails me and takes what he needs.
With Wilde, I’m finally understanding what Kennedy talks about when he calls it making love.
We might not be in love, not yet at least, but this building emotion is one I never want to let get away.
Wilde’s panting heavily as he kisses along my jaw, grip on my hair tight, eyes struggling to stay open as I pound into him like I’m possessed. The flush that creeps from my toes to my scalp makes my bedroom a hundred degrees hotter, and the sweat building between our bodies only turns me on more.
There’s no way that we could resist this forever. No way there’s a future where we don’t share this again. I need him, and I’m scared to need him, but it helps knowing he feels the same.
What we’re going through, we’re going through together.
We won’t always get it right, but as long as we come back to this, to need and pleasure and remembering what we’re all about, we’ll be able to handle anything.
“Fuck, Hudson, touch me,” he commands. “Make me come.”
A shiver ripples along my spine. I’ll never get enough of him telling me what to do, and nothing will get me there faster than hearing him say my name in that uncontrollable rasp.
My hand dives between and closes over his cock. I match up my strokes with each thrust as he sucks his way along my throat. It’s sensory heavy, turning my limbs to jelly, and if I wasn’t so fucking determined to feel him tighten around my cock as he comes, I would have blown my load already.
But he’s close.
I can do this.
His sticky precum is building between our stomachs, and my balls are getting concerningly tight. I’m so checked out, unaware of anything but his mouth on my neck, his ass around my cock, and his heated shaft fucking the tight grip I have on him.
“I’m close,” I warn him.
His teeth sink into my neck as his hips shudder, and his release floods between us.
Fucking finally .
He clenches around me, my high mixing with my relief, and then it’s all too much.
I come hard, in a vision-shaking, limb-trembling high, and as I unload into Wilde’s ass, I remind myself that I get to do this again.
Whenever the fuck I want.
That thought is too much for me, that when I can think straight, I pull out of him and flop onto the side of the bed.
It’s funny how, when you’re that close to the edge, coming is more important than breathing, and I’m paying the price for it now. I lie there, trying to fill my lungs, satisfaction so deep it’s surging through my limbs, and every one of the shitty feelings I was wading through earlier has gone.
Well, almost all of them.
I still have to make things right with my brothers, but for all the faults the three of us have, we’ve never let an argument cause irreparable damage.
So for right now, I want to take a minute—maybe an hour—with Wilde and do something we’ve never done before.
I roll over onto my side, looking down at where he’s also catching his breath, and hesitantly set my hand on his chest. He doesn’t tense or get weird, so that’s a good start.
“I was good, wasn’t I?”
Wilde lifts his eyebrows. “Not bad for a city boy.”
For maybe the first time, those two words don’t sound like an insult. “Come on, admit it. I rocked your world. Fucked you good.” I lean over him with a teasing grin. “Took you to pound town.”
He grunts, face scrunched up, and instead of answering, he tugs me down until his lips claim mine. I want to point out that I know he’s trying to shut me up, but when he kisses me, it’s like the second hand stops, and we have all the time in the world. A million more endless moments.
“Ready to come home?” he asks.
Home.
It’s weird to think that when he says that, he means Wilde’s End, but then I think of the pine trees and the trails and our swimming hole, and there’s no other word for it.
I don’t know what it means for the future, but for now, it feels right.
“I never should have left.”