Page 112 of Wicked & Wildflower

“Yours.”

With each thrust of his body into my own, he whispers against my lips.

“I.”

“Love.”

“You.”

“Dahlia.”

An unexpected orgasm slams into me as those words filter their way into my being, etched into the fabric of my soul, tattooing themselves across my heart. My hands fly off the handlebars, grasping behind his back to hold him closer to me as I unravel. The wave crests, pure ecstasy washing over me as stars cloud my vision and my body goes taut.

“Everett,” I cry. “Everett. Everett.”

I cling to him, feeling his cock pulsate inside me as ripple after ripple of pleasure rises and crashes, sparks dancing along my skin. I can’t see or think or comprehend. There is only this moment. Only him. Only those four words and the connection of our bodies. The binding of our souls.

“Dahlia,” he whimpers, bringing me back to reality. I realize he’s gone still, his hips straining in an attempt at pulling back, but the lock I have around his waist isn’t letting him move. “Baby, I’m going to—”

I loosen my legs, and he pulls back, fisting his cock in one hand. “Can I—” His voice is strained, cutting off his words.

The feral look in his eye tells me what he wants—what he needs. I sit up, pulling the straps of my dress down my arms and lowering it entirely to my waist. I press my breasts together, nodding at him in silent submission.

Claim me. Mark me. I’m yours.

I don’t say the words out loud, but I know my eyes send the message he’s looking for when his head falls back, a moan loud enough to rock the mountain we sit upon tearing from his throat as he loses himself.

Ropes of cum shoot across my chest, painting me in his release. “Fuck,” he groans, chest heaving, legs trembling as he falls against the back of his bike to hold himself up.

A moment of silence passes as we both float back to Earth, catching our breath. When he lifts his head, those brown eyes are hooded and satisfied—alight with love and awe.

He reaches out, fingers dancing along the hollow of my throat and smearing the release spread across my skin. “You look so pretty with a pearl necklace.”

Shocks shoot through my core at his words, eliciting a moan from me. He takes the opportunity to slide two fingers past my parted lips, forcing me to suck his cum away.

His smile is fierce as he slowly pulls out of my mouth, reaching into the backpack and grabbing a spare t-shirt. He softly wipes the remnants of his climax from my chest before throwing it back inside.

Everett wraps a hand around the back of my neck, bringing my mouth to his as he kisses me hard. “My plan was to fuck you from behind so you could watch the sunset.” He laughs, and I just realize that it’s now near dark.

“This view was better, anyway.” I smile.

38

Wicked

She’s My Peace

We arrive back atmy brother’s house much later than expected. My plan was to get Dahlia off that mountain before the sunset so she could watch it at my back as we took the Pacific Highway home.

It was far too easy to lose track of time, though, even as I watched the sun sink low in the sky, when she was wrapped up in my arms and we were lost inside those wildflowers. I didn’t want to rush the gift—offering her a bakery of her own. I’m not sure I fully conveyed what it means to me, and to my brother, to invite her into that. If she goes on this adventure with us, she’s truly solidifying herself as part of our family. Opening that cafe means that she has to stay here in Pacific Shores, that she’s going to stay close to me.

In my head, it answered the prayer I’ve been pleading for since I met her: she’s mine.

When she agreed, the sun setting like a golden halo around her shoulders, she was so earth-shatteringly beautiful that I lost myself. I didn’t intend on taking her right there on the ridge, but when she looked at me with those smoldering blue eyes—brighter than the sea behind her head—it felt kismet, laying her back and showing her just what she is to me right then and there.

Mine.

Yours.

---