Page 58 of Wicked & Wildflower

I sigh. “And… I breastfed. My… They’re not…” My breasts don’t look like they belong to a twenty-nine-year-old. One of them is permanently bigger than the other, and they’re definitely not as perky as I think most would expect to see from a woman my age. Plus, I have stretch marks and veins and ripples.

“Don’t finish that sentence.” He sits up straighter, as if he wishes he could reach through the phone and grab my face, force my focus to his eyes. “It is infuriating to me how blind you are to your own beauty.” I drop my gaze to the floor, feeling the flush run up my neck. “Look at me, Dahlia.” He doesn’t speak again until I listen. “I’m going to make sure you understand how pretty I find you. Every single piece of you. Every part of your body that made you who you are. All of it is beautiful to me.”

There is such ferocity in his brown eyes, such intent, and I can’t bear to do anything other than nod.

He settles back, getting comfortable again. “When I tell you how beautiful you are, you’re not going to argue with me about it. You’re going to thank me, and you’re going to fucking listen. Am I understood?”

I nod again, but his face is still hard as he says, “Now, I’m going to ask you to take off your shirt and show me those tits I’ve been dreaming about. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Dahlia, but I’m begging you to let me see that body, baby. Show me what you’re afraid of, and watch me fucking worship it.”

I don’t know if this man took a class on how to say exactly the right thing at the right moment, or if he’s just somehow inherently wired to know what I need, but those words have me sitting up on my knees and pulling my t-shirt over my head. Knowing I’m not wearing a bra, I toss it to the side, keeping my eyes closed as I hear Everett’s breath hitch. My entire body is on display for him now—save for the lace underwear that leave essentially nothing to the imagination.

I crack one eye open, terrified to see the expression on his face. I try not to be ashamed of my body. I mean, it made an entire human fucking being. But at the end of the day, you don’t see stretch marks, cellulite, or misshapen boobs on models. You don’t see it on perfect people like my sister, or I’m sure any number of the women Everett’s been with.

But when I do look at him again, it’s pure captivation I see on his face. His eyes rapidly roam across my body, like he doesn’t know where to look, like he needs to soak all of it in before it disappears. His arm begins moving again, and he lets out a groan that echoes inside my ear, letting me know he’s fisting his length.

“Dahlia,” he rasps, eyes meeting mine. “I speak three fucking languages—three—and when I tell you that there is not one word in any of them to describe the way you look right now. You’re beyond beauty. You’re beyond comparison to anything in this plane of existence. You’re something beyond comprehension. Unreal.”

“Everett,” I whisper. I’ve never been told something like that before. I’ve never heard words uttered with such raw emotion, like they’re flying straight through his chest and out his mouth. I’ve forgotten where our conversation was going, what we were supposed to be doing.

All I know is that I’m sitting on my bedroom floor, nearly naked, staring into the eyes of a man who just sputtered poetry without thought because he saw my breasts for the first time.

As if realizing it too, Everett shakes his head and clears his throat. “Do you want to see what you do to me, Dahlia? Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes.” The words come out as a high-pitched squeal, and I will myself to quiet, at risk of waking up my child—or worse, my sister—and having them walk in on the current scene.

Everett smiles knowingly. “Lay against the bed and take off those panties, baby.” I listen immediately, falling back and kicking my legs out in front of me. I lift my hips and slip the lace down my legs before kicking it to the other side of my room. “Can you see yourself in the mirror, Wildflower?”

I nod.

“Good. Now, spread those legs and show us both how pretty that pussy is.”

His words rush through me, anticipation coiling in my stomach and snapping tight. The buzzing at the center of my thighs has my skin on fire, desperate with the need to touch myself, the need to feel him touch me too. I slowly widen myknees, displaying my sex for us. We both look at where I’m spread, the wetness at my center apparent in the low light.

“Me moriría de sed por ahogarme en ti,” he rasps, and I know he can see the way my body trembles at the words I can’t understand but somehow still feel inside me. “Tell me how beautiful it is, Wildflower. Tell me you know how pretty that dripping pussy is.”

A whimper erupts from my throat, and I can’t stop myself as I run a finger through my slit, my arousal coating my hand. “You told me I only had to say thank you.”

His laugh is rich and taunting. “Fine. I’m going to tell you how pretty you are, then. Your perfect little cunt is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Is it all wet for me, baby?”

“Yes,” I moan. “Thank you.”

He laughs again. “Show me what makes you lose yourself. Show me what makes you explode the way you did all over my cock.”

I bite my lip, feeling the flush rise to my cheeks and spread throughout the entirety of my body. I feel that coil tightening around me, my body begging for release, for sensation. I hold myself still, though, keeping two fingers just above my clit. “You said you’d show me first.”

“Fuck.” His voice is so deep, it’s a near growl. I watch as his camera turns around, and I’m suddenly met with his intimidating length. Strong, muscular thighs are partially covered by a dark blue blanket, his room accented in the same low light as mine. His cock—so massive, I’m unable to believe it fit inside me—is standing erect, his beautiful, tattooed hand fisting his length hard and fast. “Do you see this, Dahlia? This is all you, baby. Only you on my mind every time I fuck myself since the night I met you.”

I bite my lip, hard enough to taste the tang of my blood as I hold back a moan. I slowly lower my hand between my legs anddip two fingers inside myself, curving them to hit just the right spot on my innermost wall, pressing my palm against my clit.

“That’s right, baby. Show me what feels good so I know what to do next time.”

“You already know what to do,” I whisper breathlessly as I move my fingers in and out of myself, picking up speed with each pump. My eyes dart back and forth between watching myself in the mirror and watching his cock on my phone’s screen.

His laugh is rough, skating down my skin like a teasing touch. “You mean when I bent you in half and fucked you against that door?”

I let out a hum, watching both our hands as they pick up speed, as we climb toward that peak—toward the freefall into ecstasy.

“But next time, I’m going to do so much more than just fuck you, Wildflower. I’m going to make you forget your own name, forget how to walk straight, forget anything except what it feels like to be filled by me. I’m going to make you gush all over my hand. Flood my face.” I cover my mouth to muffle the cries that his words wring from me. I press my hand harder against my clit, increasing the pressure at the center of my thighs as I pump into my core, curling my fingers and hitting the spot I know will make me explode. “Then,” Everett continues, voice strained as he grips his cock harder, “I’m going spread that pretty cunt and fuck you until you’re screaming my name, until you squirt all over my cock again.”

---