Page 68 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
“Well, we only have one condom, so you’d better not screw up again,” I teased.
“I’ll have more air-dropped tomorrow after the storm,” he promised before kissing me hard again.
I pulled back. “Really? You can do that?”
“If necessary. We’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now, let’s open the one we have—even my first phase instructors in SEALs training didn’t dole out torture like this… and they were fucking sadists.”
Crawling off of Wilder so we could both undress, I ripped open the foil packet—carefully—and rolled the condom onto him.
Thankfully, whoever put it in the first aid kit selected the extra-large variety because Wilder was built to scale—size-matched all over.
Puberty hadn’t beengoodto him—it had been extraextragood.
In fact, I was getting a little scared.
Once it was on, he flipped me over and began another tender assault of insatiable kisses.
Working his way down my body, he kissed and nibbled and licked until excitement vibrated through every part of me and I was ready for anything and everything he could possibly throw my way.
I didn’t care if there was a condom or no condom, if he was the size of a golf pencil or a Pringles can—I had to have him inside of me.
He nudged at my entrance, careful not to go too fast.
Any worries I had disappeared as he pushed inside. I was so turned on there was no pain at all, only tightness and an almost incandescent sense of joy that it was finally happening.
And Wilder… well he looked like he might be having an out of body experience.
I loved the way his eyelids went heavy and the hazel irises beneath them glazed over with pleasure.
Then his eyes closed completely, and he dropped his damp forehead to my shoulder.
“So good,” he panted. “You feel so good, I… I think we’re gonna need that air-drop, hummingbird. Cause there’s no way this is gonna last long.”
The passionate confession touched my heart, and I kissed his neck, the top of his chest, anything I could reach. Petting his back, I slid my hands lower to pull him more deeply into me.
“It’s good for me, too… just like this,” I assured him. “Just having you inside me is all I need.”
However, the moment he started thrusting, I was right back in the game. The combination of his thickness pressing against the inside of me and his lean abdomen pressing against the outside had me on the verge of another orgasm within minutes.
“Don’t go slow,” I urged him. “Don’t be careful.”
That was all Wilder needed. His pace picked up, and he buried himself in me again and again, using his powerful thighs and hips to drive me to a shattering climax.
Then locking his lips with mine, he thrust upward once more and shuddered.
* * *
Making love with Wilder had been sweet, and surprising, exciting, and emotional. And absolutely worth the wait.
Afterward we lay tangled together, drowsily stroking each other and exchanging sleepy murmurs about the sound of the wind outside, the past we’d shared long ago, and the pleasure we’d shared moments ago.
And I reflected on the night he burst into my closet to find me naked and terrified, realizing I was actually grateful to that psycho stalker, whoever and wherever he was.
It might have been stupid, but I hoped he’d manage to elude the police for at least a little while longer.
Because hidden away on a remote island, cuddling in a storm shelter in a much-too-small bed with Wilder Lowe was absolute paradise.
Tracing the colorful tattoo on his shoulder, I asked, “When did you get your tattoos? You didn’t have any in high school.”
