Page 77 of Wilde's End
Just the thought of it sends phantom ripples along my legs and into my balls. Wilde buried between my thighs sounds like heaven, and I’m tempted to ask for it now—even if it means crawling all over this fucking place—but then he thrusts slowly on top of me, and that need settles. His body against mine, our wet cocks rubbing together, the way his biceps bulge from where he’s holding himself up on his forearms … this is what I need.
“Look at us, face-to-face,” I tease, trying to pull his attention to me. His eyes stay locked to the ground beside my head. “Didn’t even need to force you this time. You’re addicted already, aren’t you?”
“Can I get through one orgasm without hearing your voice?”
“Never. I know it gets you good and riled up.”
He thrusts down harder, one hand taking my leg and hitching it up to give him more room to move. Our wet bodies slide together easily, and the weight pressing me into the ground, combined with the gentle water lapping at our legs, makes this feel like a fever dream.
I take hold of his sides, hands running up to his shoulders and back down his back. His skin is almost dry from the sun, burning up and addictive under my palms. I reach the dip in his lowerback before moving on to his ass. It’s all muscle. Steady muscle from days of hard work that flexes sluttily in my grip with every roll of his hips.
“Fuck …” I breathe into his ear.
I think this is the first time we’ve been completely naked together, and having him flush against me is heating my blood. His beard scratches at my cheek and neck, and for all my taunting, it only nudges my senses higher. Makes my brain wander to the thought of kissing him and how it would feel. Would my lips end up reddened, like a walking advertisement to everything we’re doing, or would it be soft enough to avoid leaving me raw?
Wilde’s never shown interest in wanting to kiss me though, so I’ll never know, which is a pity since I find kissing so fucking hot. Being in control is important to him, and while I’ll push him with some things, I’m okay with letting Wilde take the lead.
His steely cock ruts against mine, our balls pressing together, making the whole area alive with want. It’s bliss, and I could lie here all day having Wilde move on top of me like this, but there’s an itching need that’s become impossible to ignore.
He hasn’t looked at me once, and I crave his attention more than I crave blowing my load.
Before Wilde can stop me, I grab hold of him and flip us so Wilde’s back meets the rock, and then I settle up on top of him.
There’s confusion and unasked questions in his gaze, but I ignore them as I sit on his thick thighs, cock to cock, skin prickling tighter under his heavy focus.
Our eyes meet as I spit into my palm and then wrap it around us both.
He’s trying to look unaffected, but every tightening of his throat, every time his lips part or his hips thrust up into my fist, seeking friction, I see the control chip away bit by bit.
“Do you like what you see?” I ask, fucking my fist, frustrated that I can’t get a good grip in my left, but it’s only dragging this on longer. Keeping my need skimming along the surface, holding out for that moment until the wave collides and it’s over. With our beyond-rocky relationship, I want to hold on to these moments for as long as I can, hoping they’ll drug us with endorphins and ensure there’s no end in sight.
The more we do it, the more I’m finding my attraction to him growing. It’s not just the danger and wanting to best him; it’s the scent of pine trees and salt water that clings to his skin. It’s those deep gray eyes that try to hide what’s going on behind them and failing. It’s the road map of scars that tells a story he’s keeping close to his chest.
I’ve never met anyone like Wilde, and I have no idea yet whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. I just know that this is another one of those stupid choices I’m so good at making. This will either end with an all-out town war or me leaving once my job here is done. As long as we stay in it only for the sex, that works for me, but when Wilde lifts a large, calloused hand and sets it over my pec before dragging it down my torso, it brings my whole body alive.
This euphoric high that I can’t get enough of.
I want him to look, to touch, to burn me from the inside out. I want to be Wilde’s sole focus. I want to consume his thoughts, all day, all night, like he’s been doing to me. My balls tighten with the idea of him becoming addicted. With himneedingme.
“You didn’t answer,” I push. He’s bucking underneath me, seeking the relief I am. “Do you like what you see?”
I’m not expecting an answer, so he surprises me with his deep rasp. “You’re too fucking sexy for words.”
Lust shivers down my spine.
Wilde’s thumb flicks over the stiff peak of my nipple. “If I could reach, I’d sink my teeth into this sexy nipple.”
“You like my nipples?” I ask as they prickle tighter under his praise.
“I unwillingly like every fucking inch of you. How can one man be so irritating and look so fucking …”
I lean forward, planting my hand near his head, and Wilde wraps his hand around us. My left hand gets caught in his grip, and he crushes our cocks together in a way that almost makes me come.
“So fucking what?” I manage to choke out.
His teeth clench together.
“What were you going to say?”
