Page 65 of Wilder Heart

Cash nodded slowly, crawling over. Wilder’s legs parted for him at once, accepting him on top of him easily.

“Is that surprising?” Wilder asked tentatively.

“No,” Cash said, kissing him softly. “I know there are clichés about prison, but,” he tapped the knife tattoo on Wilder’s neck, “I also believe you crafted this reputation while you were in there for a reason.”

All the air rushed from Wilder’s lungs. “I did. But it’s not all a lie, y’know. I really did kill people. Not just… the one that got me in there in the first place.”

Cash shrugged one shoulder, fingers combing idly through Wilder’s chestnut brown hair. “I believe you. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. If you ever want to tell me about it, I’ll listen. You may have done some bad things, but you’re not a bad man. You’ll never convince me of that. You’ll never convince me you did those things just because you felt like it. I think you’ve always been a survivor, and that’s exactly what you did, even in prison. You found a way to survive.”

Wilder’s eyes burned. “Jesus Christ.” He wiped his eyes. “How do you do that?”

Cash kissed him sweetly. “Learning you has been one of the greatest pleasures of my life. I don’t know how many times I have to say I think you’re incredible before you start to believe me.”

Wilder’s mouth curled into a reluctant smile. “A few more, at least.”

They got lost in each other’s mouths after that, tongues tangling and bodies rocking. When they finally parted, they were both breathless.

“Would you rather do it the other way around this time?” Cash offered.

Wilder bit his lip. The idea of being inside Cash was appealing, but… “No, I want this. I want it to be you, and I want it to be tonight.”

Cash’s smile was like moonlight, glowing and beautiful. “We’ll go slow.”

“I trust you.” Terrifying, exhilarating, and the most honest he could ever remember being.

His hands shook as Cash kissed his way down his body. Nerves gave way to pleasure as Cash’s mouth expertly took his length, and he barely noticed when the first slick finger entered his body. Heat shot through him as a second finger squeezed inside. The stretch burned, but it was a good pain. A healing pain. He needed Cash more than air.

Cash took his time, guiding him almost to the brink again and again, stretching him open with gentle care. By the time Cash declared him ready, he was mindless with need, a puddle of sensation on the mattress, pliant and willing for anything.

Cash pushed his knees up, pressing their lips together as he lined himself up and eased inside. A strangled sound got caught in Wilder’s throat as Cash’s thick cock split him open. He was so, so grateful this hadn’t happened in prison, couldn’t imagine anyone else taking what he was giving Cash now.

“You okay, baby?” Cash asked as another inch sank inside.

Wilder nodded, despite his trembling body and watering eyes. “I’m fine. I’m good. Don’t stop.”

Cash watched his face as he flexed his hips, wiping the tears away as he pushed all the way to the root. “Am I hurting you?”

He shook his head, then realized it was a lie. “It’s a good pain.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, yes, please…”

“Okay, okay,” Cash soothed, kissing him quiet. “Just breathe. That’s it.”

They breathed together for a few moments, and then Cash moved, pulling out just slightly and pushing back in, drawing a moan from them both.

“Still okay?”

“So good,” Wilder moaned. “More, please.”

“Absolutely.”

He widened his pace, driving in and out of Wilder with slow, measured purpose. Every press inside hit him at just the right angle, sending sparks of pleasure hurtling up his spine. He clung to Cash’s back, his quiet sounds building until desperate cries spilled unhindered past his lips. He lost himself to the hot glide of their bodies, forgetting all but the sensation of Cash filling him up.

When Cash slipped a hand between their bodies to take his neglected length in hand, he hissed, thighs tightening around Cash’s thick waist.

“Oh, Cash, ‘m gonna come,” he moaned, throwing his head back.

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