Page 50 of Wilde's End
“If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to pretend you were literally anyone else.” As much as I’d love for that to happen though, I already know it would be impossible. His sweet scent is sodistinctly him, and I don’t believe for a second that he’ll shut up long enough for my imagination to take over.
“Who’s your fantasy man?” he asks, purposefully taunting me. “Who do you wish you were fucking right now?”
Those are two very, very different answers. I don’t have a fantasy man. I have no idea about celebrities—both on purpose and as a result of living out here—but I also don’t like the thought of building someone up in my head only to be disappointed. I’m not built for settling down, so it’s never been something worth thinking about.
As for who I wish I were fucking? I grab my cock and reposition it between his cheeks. Given the way he’s stirred me up to a point where I’m torn on whether I want to fuck him or fight him, I might as well get one of them out of the way to find my answer. Process of elimination or whatever.
He pushes back, trying to take me, but I refuse to let him. Denying Hudson what he wants only makes my dick harder, and it really is a mystery how I’ve been able to hold it together so far. If I weren’t playing with him, I’d already be well on my way to an orgasm.
“Since you love talking so much,” I say, teasing him as I rub my tip over his hole, “I want you to say something for me.”
“My mouth doesn’t work like that.”
“Well, it’ll learn if you want to be fucked tonight.”
He grunts, and I wait him out. Wait for the eventual agreement I know I’ll get. “What is it?”
“I want you to tell me how much you need my cock.”
“I need your cock.”
The monotone almost makes me laugh, but I wrap my free hand in his hair instead. I tighten my grip, tilting his head back until his eyes find mine. “Tell me.”
The defiance in his gaze is maybe the hottest thing I’ve everseen. “If you don’t give it to me,” he rasps, “I’m going to go out of my fucking mind.”
The lust coursing through me hums at that, and I reward him by pushing inside. I don’t go deep, and it’s torture for me as much as it is him. The way he molds around my tip is firm, heavenly pressure, and it takes every bit of strength I have not to give in and rail him.
“What else?” I release his hair and plant both hands on his hips to stop him from taking any more.
“God fucking dammit, you’re an asshole.”
“Tell me.”
“I’d rather you stopped playing games.”
“But I thought you loved games?”
The noise in his chest sounds angry. “Fuck me already.”
“Unlucky for you, I’m the one in control here, and it’s my cock you need. So give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”
His headthunksagainst the stall door. “You’re going to use this against me, aren’t you?”
“Possibly.”
“Fuck you.” He tries to shove back again, but I’m holding him too tight. “Urg. Fine. I’m going to die if you don’t give it to me. If you don’t stick your cock inside me, I’m going to be so goddamn frustrated that I walk out there and punch every fucking person in this fucking bar. Now, give me what I need, Wilde, before I go from wanting to hate fuck you to just hating you, and that’s not going to get me off.”
I’m not expecting my chuckle, but I fill his ear with it as I give in and sink into his desperate hole. There’s nothing better than fucking someone. Than feeling how their body gives way to mine and my cock is sucked in by some undeniable force that makes it impossible to want to stop. Hudson’s ass is firm andround, and under any other circumstance, I’d take my time to appreciate it, but this is about getting off, and that’s it.
I’m balls-deep inside of him when I hook my arm under the knee of his injured leg and lift it. “Better hold on,” I warn him.
Hudson grips the top of the stall door. “Hurry up before I fall asleep already.”
I pull back and snap my hips forward, hard enough to send a jolt through him. He cries out, and it fills my gut with this deep, feral need that is so far beyond what I’m used to that I don’t know how to handle it.
I do it again. And again. Faster and harder each time until Hudson’s arm muscles tense under his skin as he white-knuckles the door.
“Awake yet, city boy?”
