Page 19 of Eight Seconds

It has led us to the open space of my living room, with said man pushing me against the narrow strip of wall as soon as we close the door, fingers diving into my hair and lips closing heatedly over mine.

“These fucking little ribbons.”

Wilder’s voice vibrates against the vein of my neck as he growls into my ear. He sounds on the edge, words laden with gravel and arousal as his fingers grasp the chiffon ribbon woven through the waves tangled in his touch. He pulls it tight, jerking my head back, exposing my throat as his other hand comes up to wrap around the tender flesh just above my collarbone, resting there.

“From the moment I saw—” he cuts himself off, letting the hard outline of his cock at my hip speak for him. I can’t keep the gasp from escaping when he relaxes his hold on my hair, only to smother me with another deep, bruising kiss. His fingers stroke teasingly, calloused pads running up and down, making my pulse jump, a reminder that all he has to do is squeeze. It makes his kiss sexier, dirtier, and I know my panties are soaking under my dress.

I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve been dreaming of him. Wilder has been patient with me over the last month and a half. Never pushing. Never expecting. He’s brought me coffee when we’ve been in the same city. Sent me good luck texts and talked about my races until we fall asleep when we’ve been apart. He’s been endlessly supportive, inquisitive, and charming as we’ve gotten to know each other. He’s peeled back parts of his cocky cowboy exterior to show me the genuine, kind, and funny man he is.

But in all of that, I have craved this man. The desire for him has seeped into my veins, filling the very marrow of my bones until I thought I would burst. The heated kisses we’ve stolen on the occasion our schedules overlapped did little more than leave me wanting more. Desperate for the time to explore, indulge, and learn every part of him without care or agenda. That was why I suggested we travel together. I wanted Wilder McCoy all to myself at the end of every day for the near week we’ll spend here.

When I give a playful nip at his bottom lip, he pulls back, eyes searching and his fingers fluttering at my throat. Not gripping but giving the barest hint of the thought. I lean into the touch, offering him the control, the trust to do what he pleases. His answering smile is wicked and sharp, but he gives a little shake of his head, adjusting to stand between my legs.

“No, baby, that’s not how I want this.” He drops his lips to replace his fingers, hot, sucking kisses branding me. I trail my hands over his broad shoulders and down his lean, muscular back. A flash of his teeth, biting playfully at the junction of my neck and shoulder, has me arching my hips to meet him. Wilder kisses the spot softly, gentling the sting there. “One day, there will be time for a quick and dirty fuck. I’ll take you because there are moments when your existence teases my very soul, and I feel like I can’t go another minute without touching you. But tonight?” He lifts his head, leaning into me, pressing my ass against the wall as he grinds into me. It’s a slow tease, the friction not nearly enough where I ache for him the most. “Tonight, I’m going to learn everything about this body. Learn what you need to shatter for me because I bet you’re so damn pretty when you come.” He presses his body into me. “And then I’m going to do it over and over again.”

I sigh as he draws out the thrusting motion against my clit. I close my eyes and tip my head back. It should be embarrassing that a few moments of heated kisses and dry humping have me soaking, on the edge of succumbing to the pleasure building low in my core. But I’ve spent countless nights in this very trailer, fingers inside myself, imagining what it would be like with him. To have him now; it’s almost too much.

“Fuck, Wild.” I barely get the words out. His hand coasts smoothly up the expanse of my thigh, under the hem of my dress, gathering it as he climbs. Inching his way up until he rubs against the drenched gusset of my panties, the material barely enough to be decent.

“Oh,baby,” he teases against my lips, a reflection of the precipice he’s putting me on. Another stroke of his fingers there, harder, more insistent, and the friction against my clit has my nipples straining for attention against the confines of my dress. “Did you get this wet just for me?”

“Yes.” I pull at the back of his neck, kissing him again. He doesn’t let me hold him there for long, unapologetic for how much I desire him. But we’re clearly working on his agenda, and I can’t help the pouty whine at the back of my throat when he breaks away from me, stepping back. The absence of his lips and touch have me stepping forward to give chase.

Wilder halts my progress when his deft fingers undo the checked shirt he wore tonight. Button by button, the tawny expanse of his chest is revealed. A fine dusting of hair, darker than what is on his head, spreads across his pecs and starts again just under his navel, leading into the waistband of his pants. A beacon, calling to me as I let my eyes wander. I barely focus on what the trail leads to, that bulge distending the front of his jeans, when the shirt is pulled off his broad shoulders, biceps flexing, when Wilder balls it up and flings it into the corner of the dining table.

“Protection?” he asks.

“I’m on the pill, but condoms are in the bathroom and nightstand,” I answer automatically. He nods in agreement. I’m hypnotized by his lithe form; long, lean muscles that ripple through his defined abs and obliques. There’s a smattering of scars decorating the beautiful landscape of his body, and I want to know the story behind every single one of them after I’ve kissed my way across them. I lick my lips as I catalog every inch on display. Unconsciously, my hand drifts to play with the skirt of my dress, bunching and pulling. I notice the moment it draws Wilder’s attention, his bright blue eyes zeroing in on the movement.

“I love that dress, Charlie, but I think I’m going to like it a lot more once it’s on the floor.”

I don’t hesitate to follow his command. I cross my arms, securing the hem in my hands, and pull it over my head. The first touch of air on my exposed breasts has my nipples tightening even more, their firm peaks almost painfully hard and begging for attention. I didn’t bother with a bra in this dress, a decision I’m happy about as I take in Wilder’s hungry expression while being left in a scrappy lace thong. He lets out a long groan, exhaling like he’ll be able to draw in more control with the next breath. Instead, he lifts his eyes to the ceiling, maybe invoking divine intervention, and reaches for his belt.

“You look like temptation and absolution rolled into one,” he tells me as the belt is pulled free. It makes a snapping sound as he removes it with force, wrapping it around one hand before dropping the coil to the floor with a thud. He pops the top button of his jeans, letting the denim hang loose and low on his hips. The two shallow grooves of his Adonis belt peek out from the waistband. The step forward he takes reminds me of a predator stalking its prey. I shuffle until the dining table is bumping against the back of my thighs.

“I don’t remember much from going to church when I was little. But they say your favorite sin is the one that will do you in,” I say conversationally, as if his very presence, masculine and confident, isn’t completely undoing me. Wilder smirks.

“Do they now?” His head cocks to the side. I grip the edge of the table behind me, pressing my legs together to ward off the throbbing of my clit. I nod, smirking back at him.

“So, I guess the question is, Cowboy, what’s your favorite sin?”

Wilder is close enough that his chest brushes against my hardened nipples, and I suck in a sharp breath. His eyes travel the length of my body, everywhere they look is a heated caress. I’m nearly shaking by the time the startling blues finish their journey, returning to lock with mine.

“You.” His voice delivers the answer like the strike of a whip, cracking with finality and an unexpected heat. He surges forward, capturing my lips again in a searing kiss, hooking his hands behind my thighs. I gasp when he deposits me on the cold tabletop. I shakily brace myself with my hands behind me as Wilder’s slide up my thigh to roll my panties down.

“You’re my favorite sin.”

It’s less than a second before his head dives between my thighs, spitting once before his broad tongue swipes through my folds with single-minded intensity. He gives a satisfied growl when he finishes before repeating the action, a single finger sliding up my inner thigh to barely touch my sensitive entrance. I wind my fingers through his shaggy hair, gripping tightly, encouraging him to do more. More with his mouth. More with his finger. I just want more.

“Atta girl,” Wilder encourages as he sucks at my clit lightly. The teasing taste of his ability isn’t nearly enough, even as his finger begins to thrust lazily in and out of me. The tip at first before going deeper past his knuckles until I can feel the rest of his hand bumping against me. Arousal coils tightly in my core. “Take what you need.” He sucks the sensitive nub again. Harder. When he adds a second finger, the slippery sounds of my arousal clearly make it sound easy. I twist his hair nearly to the roots as I grind against him. Chasing. Wanting. Begging. “I want you to soak me when you come.”

Wilder’s suction doubles as his fingers hook upward inside me, rubbing against a particularly sensitive spot. My supporting hand gives out as I collapse against the surface. I don’t stay still for long, Wilder’s efforts causing my back to bow off the table, head thrown back in ecstasy as he rips my orgasm from me with precision. It floats past my grasp, until the sting of his teeth scrapes against my clit. Stars explode in my vision as I hold onto him for dear life, the heady rush of pleasure almost more than I can bear.

“Holy. Fuck,” I pant out. It’s mumbled with a bunch of other unintelligible words and sounds, the sheer intensity and speed with which I climaxed shuttling coherent thoughts out of my brain. Wilder is licking me, humming satisfactorily, fingers slowing but helping me ride out the quieting aftershocks sparking in my blood. I didn’t expect things to go so quickly, but as my pussy gives the feeblest attempts of a second orgasm, I’m not upset. I’m not surprised Wilder was able to give me exactly what I needed—I’ve been hungry for his attention for weeks, too unsure of myself to go after it. Feeling returns to my fingers, and I relax my grip in his hair, gliding them through the strands in apology and to soothe any pain I inadvertently caused.

Wilder stands, holding one of my wrists and guiding my curious fingers down his chest and across his abs. He wipes his face with the back of his hand before sucking his fingers into his mouth, a delighted smile spreading around where he swallows the last of my arousal. I keep exploring, sliding the zipper of his jeans down before bringing myself to sit upright. I don’t get further than that when Wilder steps away.

“Just getting the condom, baby.” He stills when he sees the disappointment and fear on my face. I melt into his touch when he cups my cheek, offering reassurance before he kisses me long and slow. “I told you, I’m going to keep going until I know everything about your body. I have a lot more to learn.”

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