Page 47 of Wild Ride

Yes.

Two of his fingers slide through my folds, swirling my clit before they dip inside of me. I’m still sore from the last timeI was with him, and the time before, and the time before. I’ve never had this much sex ever in my whole life, and that means combined and totaled up completely.

That’s how into this man I am.

I need to pack my bags and get the hell out of here before I get in another fight with that woman who thinks she's got some sort of claim on him. She doesn’t, and I shouldn’t even care. I should have walked away from her the moment she started talking to me, but this man riles me up like nothing and nobody ever has before.

He curls his fingers inside of me, working them in a come-hither motion, his thumb finding my clit and making firm circles. My eyes slide closed as he continues his ministrations. I open my mouth, letting out a heavy sigh as my hips jerk, then roll, and they continue to roll as my body instinctually searches for release.

I know that this is the man who can give me that, who can make my body scream with a deliciously perfect release. His other hand wraps around the front of my throat, his palm against the center, his fingers curled around the side, and I whimper as I bite down on my lip as my body climbs higher and higher.

“Please,” I whisper.

He growls but doesn’t speed up or apply any more pressure. He stays exactly as is. Then his thumb moves from my clit and he replaces it with his palm. God. Perfection.

“Say my name,” he murmurs.

“Bullet,” I exhale.

He snorts. “Say my fucking name, Dakota.”

I’m so close that my body aches. No, it freaking hurts. I need to come. It’s not a want right now. It’s a need, and only this man with his hands between my legs can make that happen. So when he demands that I say his fucking name, I say his fucking name.

My eyes meet his, and with all the determination I have left in my whole physically exhausted and aching body, I hiss his name.

“Bishop.”

“From now on, you call me by my fucking name, baby,” he says with a grunt.

Then he gives me what I need.

And when he does, I open my mouth, but not a single sound escapes. Every muscle in my entire body freezes, and I come. The relief I feel is short-lived, though, because as soon as my body finds its moment to just accept all that he’s offered, my shorts are gone, and he’s inside of me.

Opening my eyes again, lifting my hands, I grip his shoulders. Bullet’s hand is still very much wrapped around the front of my throat, his fingers gently flexing as he moves inside of me. It’s not slow and easy. It’s not a roll of the hips.

He fucks me.

It’s hard and fast.

It’s perfect… but it’s also outside in the open during broad daylight against a building.

And that realization washes over me about the time he comes deep inside of me. Burying himself there as his cock twitches and I feel his cum fill my body. Again, without protection and with zero birth control.

I am playing Russian Roulette with my body in about a million different ways. But when Bishop shifts forward and touches his lips to mine, when he kisses me so thoroughly that my brain short circuits, it almost feels worth it.

I know it shouldn’t.

But it does.

And that is why I’m here again, with him buried deep inside of me, his cum filling me.

BULLET

I should not be fucking her on the outside wall of Ivy’s office, in the daylight, in the absolute fucking middle of town. But here I am, balls deep inside of her, kissing her. Only when I hear a car in the distance honk do I slip out of her and right my jeans.

She does the same with her shorts, pulling them on and smoothing out her shirt, her gaze looking everywhere but at me while she does it. Reaching out, I pinch her chin with my finger and thumb to gently guide her head from being tipped down so she can look up into my eyes.

“I’m serious,” I say.

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