Page 29 of Wilde's End
“Let me? I’m not asking for your permission.”
I swear every time that he opens his mouth, it makes me want to punch him in it a little more. “Get out.”
“Or what? You’ll manhandle me again?” Then he bites down hard on his bottom lip and shamelessly runs his eyes over me. I’d been wondering if his taunts were purely to piss me off or if there was truth behind them. The way he’s looking at me solves that mystery. I wish I could say I was immune to him, but him blatantly staring at my cock is making it think it needs to put on a show.
I scoop the quilt back up off the ground and wrap it around my hips before I can get hard.
“Pity …” Hudson sighs on his way to the door. “If we’d met under any other circumstances, you could have manhandled me all you liked.”
He leaves, and I slam the door after him, hotter and more irritable than before I showered.
I’ve never met someone who makes my blood boil like he does.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
HUDSON
The whole way back, I can’t shake the image of Wilde from my brain.
Beefy, lightly hairy chest, big arms—who the fuck am I kidding? All I could concentrate on was his cock. I’ve seen plenty in my day, but the way it was hanging there so confidently thick even while soft is burned into my mind.
Of course, my current biggest headache would have a perfect dick, andof course, all I want is to suck that perfect dick. I couldn’t have come out here to the middle of nowhere and met someone emotionally well-adjusted to get horny over, could I? No. As usual, the biggest asshole in a five-mile radius has caught my attention, and I’m tempted to make all the same mistakes I always do.
I’ve stopped paying attention to where I’m riding. This deep into the forest, all the tracks and turns look the same.
I’m swamped on all sides by trees, and my reception is dipping between one bar and out of service. Wilde’s place hadbeen easy enough to find since the gravelly road led me close enough by it that I could make out his faded red truck through the forest. The house hadn’t been what I expected either.
In my mind, I’d been looking out for maybe a tent or a shack made out of a hastily put-together collection of junk. Wilde’s house was … nice. Small, timber, with a living room, a kitchenette, and what looked like a bedroom, but it was immaculately built and cozy enough inside I would have thought it belonged to his grandma. It put a wrench in my first opinion of him.
Not that any of that fucking matters when every time I blink, I get a flash of his dick.
Damn, to have him press me into a wall again …
I shake that off and look around, picking a random track and gunning the bike down that way. Thenrrr nrrrrrof the engine is echoing through the forest and probably scaring off any animals I would have found out this way. So far, the only house I’ve seen is Wilde’s, but there has to be more. We’ve seen three people since getting here, and that place wasn’t big enough for them all. Since I’m out here, I might as well explore and figure out what the hell else is happening on our land.
It’s a mission to navigate the tree roots and random boulders sticking up out of the overgrown grass. I barely spot them in time before having to veer sharply, but other than that, it’s a nice ride. Everything is so green out here, the trees are blocking out the harsh sun, and as I ride, I can almost,almoststop thinking.
It isn’t something I’ve been able to do for … I don’t fucking know how long. Between running Bell Building, being on the construction site, my shitty sex life, and, most importantly, my brothers and their issues, I’m tapped out. It’s no wonder I have a short temper when I can’t breathe half the time.
Now, I have Wilde to add to my list.
Well, Wilde and his dick.
Because those are two very different problems.
I try to picture what Wilde’s reaction would have been if I’d gotten on my knees and offered him a blow job. Sure, it would have been hard to resist the temptation to bite the fucking thing right off, but picturing his hatred as he stalked closer is enough to wake my own cock up.
Between the naked wrestling and Sutton’s message reminding me of the degrading sex I missed out on, it won’t be long before I’m tempted to head home for a few days to get off.
Good decisions? I don’t know him.
Some days, I wish I could be more like the twins. Kennedy has his head on right in everything except relationships, and Hart’s so damn switched off to the world that nothing gets to him. The things that make me worry about them are also the things I envy. How the hell did Kennedy end up so well-adjusted? Then, on the flip side, what would it be like to not feel a single thing beyond a vague hum of emotion?
Sometimes I feel things too acutely, and with no idea how to handle it, I explode.
Thanks, Mom and Dad, for the awesome upbringing.
