WYLDER Page 10

  I want passion and ownership and all the dirty sex he promises. It’s not smart, and God, I know I should be running like hell, but I won’t. I want to know this man with his wild moods and coldness and dig deep to find the man who loves his family and still mourns his little sister.

  I want to know all of him, and maybe, if I am lucky, I can make him know me. Not that I expect love or anything like—okay, that’s a lie. I totally expect that because if I can’t leave then I want a life with more in it than sex and empty conversations.

  There, I’ve admitted it. Aren’t you proud?

  Shaking myself, I readjust my boobs, grimacing at the lack of cleavage, and take a deep breath. I’m still a bundle of nerves when I step out of the bathroom, and I almost trip on the rug when I tentatively walk out and see Wylder on the bed, naked and grinning at my look of wide-eyed shock.

  God in heaven…

  The man is magnificent, ripped like no one’s business, and golden from his time in the sun. I can’t take my eyes off him and blush when they start roaming his body, taking in his small brown nipples, his abs, his—

  I can’t stifle a gasp when I go lower and see his sex, the stiff stalk lying on his belly in blatant invitation. He’s big. That’s the first thing I think when my eyes freeze on it. I’m not an expert, having only had sex with one guy in my life, but from that alone I would say Wylder can’t be anything less than a good ten inches.

  And holy…he’s gorgeous. I never once thought a man’s penis could be sexy and make my clit throb, but looking at him, seeing his sex thick and surrounded by his fist, is a beautiful sight.

  I’m wet in a heartbeat, and I clench and contract my muscles inside as I watch him hold himself, his dark look from beneath lowered lashes an erotic dare that I won’t refuse.

  Firming my spine, I walk over to the bed and, cognizant of my lack of underwear, gingerly raise a knee to the mattress, my eyes never leaving his sex as he starts pulling his fist over the veined length.

  “I’ve thought about what I would do to you, over and over again. Fantasized about sucking bruises into your ass, licking you, biting my mark into the dimples at your lower back, but all I can think about right now is being inside you,” he growls.

  Oh yes, I think as I crawl closer, my eyes glued to him where tiny beads of liquid escape and stream down his shaft, glistening in the moonlight. I want him inside me now, filling me and extinguishing the ache pulsing in my womb.

  I don’t want or need foreplay. I’m already so wet it’s embarrassing, and I let him know by licking my lips and spreading my legs just the slightest bit. Wylder groans when I do, his eyes fixed on the peek I just gave him and tightens his grip, his hips completely still even though I know he’s dying to move.

  “Suck me.”

  The command is grated through his teeth, and though I’m not exactly confident in this area, I do it, lowering my head slowly. His scent is an earthy musk that heightens my arousal.

  We both groan when I push just the tip of my tongue to the slit at his head, the contact minimal but oh so glorious as his taste bursts over my tongue. He’s slightly salty, a taste I haven’t known.

  “Don’t tease me.”

  His snarl has me stiffening before I relax and open wider, taking the broad head between my lips. Smooth, he is smooth and tight as I lower myself down, my lips stretching to accommodate his girth.

  His hand remains at the base, shortening the length for me so that I don’t choke myself taking him in. It’s a turn-on when he huffs, his abdomen tightening when I start sucking in strong pulls, lifting my mouth and going back down, eating him the way I would an iced popsicle.

  I can’t say it’s the sexiest thing I have ever done, but as I pleasure Wylder with my mouth and suck him, making love to him with my mouth, only I do feel like a sex goddess.

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s it. Take more, baby. Yes.”

  I do as he asks, my hands gripping, nails digging into his hard thighs, while he thrusts beneath me and pulls at my hair, controlling my movements with one hand while stroking himself with the other.

  I’m burning between my thighs now, so needy and wet I hear a squish when I tighten my sex, aching for just a touch. Wylder isn’t aware though, not with my mouth speeding up and the uncoordinated thrusts of his hips.

  “Touch my balls.”

  They’re tight and hot when I stroke a hand over them, and I feel him tighten more when I gently roll them, leaving his tip on every upstroke before engulfing him again.

  I’m out of my body at this point, aroused, desperate, and in danger of throwing myself on him and impaling his shaft when I feel him push my mouth down and tense, his sex kicking as hot streams fill my mouth and throat.

  “Fuck, yeah. Swallow.”

  I obey again, swallowing wildly as he comes, the salty tang coating my tongue, some of him dripping out the corners of my mouth before he stills and releases me, his shaft slipping from me.

  I don’t know what I expect. I mean, I’m on freaking fire by now and wild with the need to be touched, but Wylder just pulls me up and onto his chest, his breaths calming while he strokes my hair.

  “You’re a dream.”

  That melts me, and I do something I would never have done before, my natural hesitancy falling away as I grind into him, my clit pulsing against him as I seek relief.

  I’m flipped onto my back in a blink and gasp when he rolls me to my stomach and cuffs my wrists with bindings I hadn’t noticed before. My ankles get the same treatment, and I find myself spread-eagled on my stomach while he looms over my back.

  “What…?”

  “I’ve been fantasizing about what I would do to you.”

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  He started telling me before he ordered me to suck him, and at this point, I could come from just a touch, but he chuckles darkly and leans over me, breathing into my ear.

  “I was going to worship your ass and then take you like a wild man.”

  “Yes.”

  “But now that you’ve taken the edge off, I think I’ll torture you the way you’ve tortured me for days. I’ve been hard and heavy since I saw you, Danny, and I couldn’t touch you.”

  Is he saying that he’s not going to let me come? The thought is preposterous, and I want to laugh, until he licks my neck and sucks strongly, probably leaving a hickey.

  “Yes, you’re right. I’m not going to let you come. I’m going to eat you out until you’re on the verge, suck down all the nectar you make, and then stop before you orgasm. I’m going to lick and suck you all over until you’re crazy for me, and then I’ll stop.”

  “No, please.”

  “Yes. I’ll do it for hours before I possess you, baby, so that you know, always, that I own this body.”

  I almost wail when he buries his face between my spread legs and do scream moments later when he pulls away, his tongue gentling on my sex right before I can come, the wet tip laving my sex tenderly as I scream and come down from the edge.

  It feels so good when he starts again, pulling my hips up so he can reach my clit, even using his tongue to mimic sex. But he never lets me come. I reach the edge over and over again, my hips writhing, mouth pleading as I scream and claw at the sheets, and yet every time I come close, he backs off and kisses me softly, soothing me.

  I’m sweating and mad with need what feels like hours later, my breath sobbing out of me as I beg him to take me.

  “Please.”

  But he doesn’t seem to care as I cry hoarsely, his smile spreading over my ass cheeks when he moves on and starts sucking at the round globes.

  I can feel him against my thigh, hard and pulsing pre-come over my skin. But does that seem to bother him? No! The man is a sadistic freak, I think, screaming again when he abandons my butt and tongues my sex all over again.

  “Please, Wylder. Oh God, please stop. Please,” I scream, past the point of caring.

  I want release so badly I physically hurt for it, but I’ll accept it if he sto
ps, if only to halt the torture and have the strength to breathe and still the need.

  “Who do you belong to, Danny?”

  He’s asked me this over and over since the first near orgasm, and I haven’t broken, but I really cannot take another minute of this, not and not break apart. It’s hard to say the words, but when he leans in to blow air against my opening, I snap and give him what he wants, the tears still leaking from my eyes staining the pillow.

  “You. I belong to you.”

  “Good girl.”

  I come with his first thrust into me, the burn of his shaft stretching and battering my sheath a minimal pain as everything inside me contracts and explodes in a wet gush of release.

  I come so hard I cry and push back, wanting him all the way inside me.

  “Ah, yes, yeah, baby, suck me in deeper.” His growls make it last longer, as do the raging thrusts he gives me before he stiffens and jerks his release into me.

  I keep clenching even when he falls over me, face buried on my neck, breath rasping against me. It’s the most explosive, satisfying moment of my life, and as I come down, spent and limp, I know that he’s got me.

  Wylder may never ever love me or be what I want, but I am his slave, and we both know it.

  Eons later, I feel him pull free, the loss of him inside me making my chest ache. He unties my arms and legs, rubs life back into them, and pulls me into his side, surrounding me in his heat and strong embrace.

  “We have to be one, Danny, in synch all the time. You understand?”

  No, I really don’t, but I don’t have the strength to do anything right now. I’m shattered and aching with a loneliness I never thought I would feel after such explosive intimacy, and I need time to regroup and figure out what he’s doing to me.

  “Baby?”

  “Yes, Wylder.”

  My voice comes out flat because I feel nothing. Oh, I am sated, God am I sated, but I’m so lost I don’t know what to think or feel as he sighs and pulls me closer, stroking my hair in such a gentle caress that it brings tears to my eyes.

  “You don’t understand yet, but you will, and I swear, baby, if you just give me a chance and trust me, you won’t ever regret it.”

  Not regret it. But I already do regret opening myself to him, and if this is what I have to look forward to, I don’t know that I can stay sane or survive it and come out whole at the end.

  What I feel for him is so messed up and strange that I have to push it all down as I lay quietly and listen to his breaths even out. Something must be wrong with me, mentally, because I think I love Bear Wylder of the sadistic sex and cold eyes.

  How can I love a man like this, so fast? I wonder, watching the night sky outside the bedroom through the patio door, the moonlight shining on the waves.

  I have no answer to my questions, not one single answer to explain how I can feel anything but hate for him. Maybe it’s the pain I saw in his eyes when he spoke of his sister. Maybe it’s the love I saw when he talked about his family, or the absolute devotion I heard when he talked about Wolf and his other brothers.

  I can relate because I love my family that fiercely and there is not a thing I wouldn’t do to keep them safe and happy. That must be it because as I lie still and let him hold me, I fully accept that I would kill, cheat, steal, lie, and tear up the world if anyone hurt someone I love.

  The thought sinks in somewhere around dawn as I watch the murky light of dusky morning give way to the oranges and purples of sunrise.

  Is that what he felt when he came home from a job he seems to have loved—which, by the way, still shocks me senseless. Did Wylder see his family falling apart and go crazy with grief and sorrow when the horror was too much, watching those he loves dwindle to nothing?

  I can’t imagine how that must have felt. Just those first few months after Mom died, I was scared and sad, but Daddy was there, and despite his own grief, he never left me alone or afraid. I had a safety net in Daddy and never once questioned his ability to look after me.

  What must Wylder have felt when faced with his father drowning his sorrows and a mother and brothers struggling to survive?

  I can’t fathom it, but I do know that it must have been too much for him, as it would have been for any man.

  I respect him. It’s not easy to admit, and I want to rage at myself for it, but I do. He may not be good, but when it comes to those he loves, Wylder is just like my daddy, and I cannot hate him for it. Instead, I think it makes me love him more.

  I don’t get what he’s doing, why he’s being so hard and insistent about my submission, because, make no mistake, this whole thing was about submission, but for now, I’m going to play along and hope that my trust in him isn’t as misplaced as I fear it may be.

  Deciding not to dwell on it a moment more because I am just damn tired of thinking, I slip from the bed, slowly so as not to wake him, and tiptoe to the bathroom.

  I’m a little sore as I shower and wash his seed from my thighs, but it’s not as bad as his pounding had me thinking it would be. Once clean and dressed in a sundress that is short and just this side of decent, I make my way to the kitchen and start breakfast.

  The normalcy of the act is not lost on me, and I am amused by my thoughts as I scramble eggs, fry bacon, and cut the fruit that is a must-have in this tropical paradise.

  I’m just about back to myself when Wylder strolls in and gives me a sleepy kiss, his bare chest against my back sending tingles through me.

  “Morning, sweet thing.”

  “Hey. Could you grab the toast before it burns?”

  He obliges, giving me funny looks that I ignore, and soon enough we’re seated beneath the awning on the patio and he’s pretending that I’m some gourmet cook or something.

  “This is great. I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “Wylder, I’m an Army brat and the only child of a widower. Trust me, I learned to cook fast or all I’d have eaten was mac ‘n’ cheese from a box and barbecue,” I snort, getting a smile.

  “My mom cooks like a demon. Between her and Pop, we’ve had everything from dried worms and buffalo to pickled herring and some nasty rotten fish.”

  Gross. At least Daddy’s mac ‘n’ cheese was edible.

  Scrunching my nose as I eat, I look over at him and wonder what he’d have been like if his sister hadn’t been killed. He’d have stayed in the Army. I know that instinctively because, where I failed to notice his regimented life up to now, I can see a lot of similarities between him and my dad.

  I don’t know why I missed it, and now that I know, that tattoo on his arm is a dead giveaway. I’d love to talk more about his life before he became Bear Wylder the criminal, but deciding not to rock that boat just yet, I try for something light.

  “Daddy should be back soon, and if I know him, he’ll be up your butt the minute he touches US soil. Uncle Jon’s probably been bragging and heckling him like hell that he found out about us first.”

  Not the best conversation, but as far as things go, I am willing to talk about anything at this point. It’s not easy to be awkwardly smitten with a man I know I shouldn’t be anywhere near.

  Crazy.

  Wylder just shrugs as if the imminent arrival of my dad isn’t a huge deal.

  “How can you not care?! What if he finds out you’re a big-time crook? He’ll go nuts, Wylder,” I wail, sweating as the what-ifs hit me.

  They don’t know my daddy, and God help us all if—no, when—he finds out that Wylder is not his idea of a fit man for his little girl.

  “He won’t.”

  “He won’t? Wylder, are you sane, because I have explained over and over again that my dad isn’t your usual Navy man. He has a lot of friends and connections in places most people wouldn’t dream exist. He’s got friends in the freaking feds.”

  “Yeah? Me too,” he says jovially, making my eyes bug.

  He keeps eating. Despite my nerves, so do I, because last night took a lot out of me and keeping up with this level of insan
e is hard work.

  “Wylder!”

  “Danny, baby, my sweet little firecracker of a woman who’d shank me in my sleep if she could, please calm down. You’re ruining my morning afterglow.”

  I sputter around a mouthful of eggs and feel my skin go tight the way it always does when I am about to lose my shit. I have a temper, a bad one that Daddy had to curb after one summer when I almost hobbled a girl at my new school with nothing more than my pencil.

  It’s a thing I work on constantly, but right now, even while staring down a madman, I feel something bubble beneath the surface.

  Taking a deep breath, I strive for calm, only snickering a little inside at his knowledge that I would kill him in his sleep. Damn right I would. Maybe. We’ll see.

  “Okay, let’s try this again. Wylder, dearest, my father, who happens to be a badass in the United States Navy and does weird stuff for the government that even I don’t know about, well, he’s coming home to meet my soon-to-be husband.” I flutter my lashes at him because God and all the angels know he will never marry his sex toy. “Now, I wouldn’t usually be this stressed about my daddy meeting a man he can kill with his pinkie, but see, this man just happens to be a criminal with no freaking morals and my father will go nuts! Nuts, Wylder. The last time I saw Flynn, the guy I was with, he almost ran away because my daddy threatened to kill him if he ever spoke to me again. My dad, Wylder, the man I love and have to lie to,” I stress, waving my fork at him threateningly.

  He shrugs again, and I swear to God I consider dying just to shove my fork in his eye to make my point.

  “I know,” he says calmly, slowly, as if I’m slow and in need of help. “It’ll be fine.”

  “How? How is this fine? Uncle Jon will have told him everything about that operation Eagle—”

  “Flamingo,” he says with a grin.

  “Whatever! And I know Daddy. The man is suspicious of my next-door neighbor, and she’s seventy-two and owns three cats. How is this going to be okay, because he’s going to come after you like a lunatic when he checks you out and finds out you’re not who you say you are.”