Wilder Page 21

  “I did,” I confirm. “And Scarlett’s kept an eye on me.”

  “Yeah, and you’ve missed all her signals that she wants to keep more than an eye on you,” he says.

  We’re interrupted when the show begins, and for the next hour, I do my best to keep my hands off Scarlett. A hard fucking task because not only do I prefer the opposite to her when it comes to PDAs, but also because her scent is driving me fucking crazy. I want to breathe her in and kiss her as much as I want to touch her.

  The show is funny, but I’m relieved as fuck when it’s finished and we can make our way out to the bar.

  “I’ll get the first round of drinks,” Paul says and leaves us at a table while he goes to the bar.

  A text comes through on my phone as I settle myself on a stool.

  Mum: I’ve talked to your father about Paul, but I think it might be helpful for you to talk with him too.

  “Is that your mum again?” Scarlett says as I process the message.

  I look at her. “It’s that obvious?”

  “Well, the expression on your face reminds me of the look you give me when I’ve frustrated you, and since I know you were frustrated with her yesterday, it was my best guess.”

  “She wants me to talk to Dad about Paul.”

  “Will you?”

  “Yeah, even though the conversation will piss me off.”

  Scarlett moves between my legs and puts her hands on my thighs. “You’re a good man, Wilder.”

  I curve a hand around her neck. “You never thought the day would come when you’d tell me that, did you?”

  “I thought we established the ground rules about your hands and my neck.”

  “And I thought we established that hands and legs weren’t allowed everywhere, but here you are with your hands everywhere. I’m just along for the ride, following your lead.”

  She brings her lips to mine, catching them in a kiss that steals every breath I’m relying on while her hands almost strip my restraint when they work themselves too fucking close to my dick.

  “Scarlett,” I rasp, dragging my mouth from hers and taking hold of her hands. “You’re fucking killing me here.”

  “No,” she says breathlessly as she presses herself against me, “you’re fucking killing me. And that’s something I never thought I’d tell you, but here I am, counting down the minutes until you put your hands where I want them.”

  “Fuck,” I say when her lips ghost over my neck.

  “I want you to take me home and dance with me again, Justin William Miller, and then I want to kiss every bruise of yours better before you show me what you know about kissing girls and making them scream.”

  “Jesus fuck,” I growl, letting her hands go, gripping her waist with one hand, her neck with the other, and pulling her lips back to mine so I can kiss the hell out of her.

  If I thought she was breathless a minute ago, I didn’t know what breathless looks like on Scarlett. Turns out, it looks sexy as hell. The kind of sexy that well and fucking truly wipes out all my determination to take this slowly with her.

  Keeping hold of her, I brush my lips against her ear as I say, “For the record, my name on your lips like that will always get you whatever the fuck you want. And now we have to figure out how the hell to get out of here without pissing my brother off, because a pissed-off Paul isn’t fun to deal with later.”

  Before she has a chance to respond, Paul re-joins us. Placing our drinks on the table, he says, “You two need to get a room.” He eyes me. “Unless you’ve forgotten that you have a working dick.”

  Scarlett grips my shirt while turning her face to look at Paul. “I’m fairly confident we’ve just established that he does, in fact, know he has one of those. I’m also fairly confident that if I don’t get him out of here after this drink, I’ll be back to scrounging for those sandwich coupons.”

  Another text comes through on my phone.

  I ignore it as Paul says, “Far be it from me to stand in your way.”

  Another text comes in, which I also ignore as Scarlett says, “You’re not going to hold this against me, are you? I’m not about pouting boys.”

  Paul waves his hand dismissively. “I do like a good pout, but not with you.” When my phone sounds again with a third text, his eyes widen with annoyance and he snaps, “Who the fuck is that and why are they ruining a perfectly good night?”

  Glancing at my phone, I see it was Mum all three times. “Mum.”

  As I switch my phone to silent, Paul grabs it from me and reads the texts that are still sitting on my screen. Looking back at me, he says, “What’s she going on about?”

  I reach for the phone, and when he keeps hold of it, I say, “I’m gonna need to read them so I can answer your question.”

  “This is about Dad’s birthday?”

  I motion with my hand for him to pass the phone over, which he finally does, and I read the messages.

  Mum: I’m booking a photographer for the party.

  Mum: I really want us all there for a family photo.

  Mum: Let me know your thoughts on talking to Dad.

  Fucking hell.

  My mother can be demanding at times, but this party is taking her to a whole new level.

  Before I can stop him, Paul takes hold of my phone again and scrolls through the messages I’ve exchanged with Mum. “What does she want you to talk to Dad about?” he asks, and I don’t miss the anger flaring in his voice.

  “We had a conversation about the fact Dad needs to acknowledge how badly he handled what happened to you. I suggested she bring it up with him, and now she wants me to talk to him too.”

  “So if he does acknowledge this, I should take that as he doesn’t really acknowledge it, that he’s just saying it because you and Mum want him to.”

  “Fuck, Paul, I know you’re angry and hurt over this, and you have every right to be, but let’s just agree that Dad never says anything he doesn’t believe. So if he does acknowledge this, it’ll be coming from a place of truth.”

  “A truth he’s failed to reach on his own.” He shoves my phone back at me. “I’m not interested in anything he has to say on this because it should have been said years ago.”

  “Again, I agree, but at times in our lives, we’re all human and fuck shit up. Sometimes it takes years to realise when we’ve done this. And we both know that Dad’s one of the most stubborn men alive.”

  “So that gives him an excuse for the way he’s dealt with this?”

  “No, that’s not—”

  “That’s exactly what you’re saying, Justin,” he snaps, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get through to him.

  Scarlett lets go of my shirt and fully turns to face Paul. “I hate people stepping into my shit uninvited, so I apologise in advance for what I’m about to say, but I just want to ask you one question. Do you love your dad?”

  Her question stops him for a moment, and he frowns. “Yes, but—”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “That was a yes or no question only. And your answer is all you need to figure out what to do now.”

  Paul continues frowning. “I didn’t finish giving you my answer because it wasn’t a yes or no question only. There are things you don’t know here, Scarlett. Things that change the answer.”

  “Okay, so the answer is no?” she says.

  “No, the answer isn’t either yes or no. It’s the kind of answer that needs further clarification.”

  “Answer this then, if your dad were to die tomorrow, have you said and done everything you wanted to say to him and do with him? Would you be at peace with your relationship with him as it stands today? That’s a yes or no question only.”

  He stares at her, and I read his answer all over his face.

  We all turn silent until Paul reaches for his drink and, after drinking some, says, “Why’d you have to force your way into my heart, Scarlett? I was happy in my little bubble of denial.”

  Scarlett sips some of her Manhattan. “I feel y
ou. Our little bubbles of denial are happy fucking places. Until they’re not.”

  “I should make you come to the party with me,” he says, still grumbly like he’s cranky with her.

  “You’ll think about coming now?” I say, surprised to hear him mention going.

  “I’ll think about it. I’m not guaranteeing anything. And you two should leave soon or else I might change my mind on that.”

  Scarlett downs the rest of her drink and looks at me. “I hope all the Miller boys aren’t sulky when shit gets hard. I don’t handle sulky well.”

  “Justin knows his way around moody,” Paul says.

  Scarlett nods. “Yeah, I’ve seen that a few times.”

  I finish my drink and stand. “I’m gonna be fuckin’ moody if we don’t get out of here in the next minute.”

  “I feel like that might be the best thing you’ve ever said to me,” she says, her hand sliding easily into mine. Then, looking at Paul, she says, “Good talk. I’m only a little bit sorry we’re bailing on you.”

  He shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his face. “Go. I expect an update tomorrow.”

  “You know I don’t do TMI,” she says, already moving her feet and dragging me with her. “But I think it’s safe to say there are gonna be a lot of sandwiches tonight.”

  27

  Scarlett

  Holy hell, Wilder is finally showing me all his moves, and I am here for them.

  All. Of. Them.

  Like, I haven’t even seen them all yet, but I’m not sure I ever want anyone else’s moves again because this man knows. What. He’s. Doing.

  “Holy fuck me all the way to heaven and back,” I say as he tears my top off, slides my bra cups down, and brings his mouth to my nipples, alternating his attention between them.

  Grinding his dick against me, he works his lips up my chest to my throat and then to my lips before saying, “Fuck you to heaven and back?”

  I take hold of his face, kinda gently because I don’t wanna hurt him, but also kinda not gently, because sandwiches. “Just hurry the hell up and get my clothes off.”

  He smiles. “I fuckin’ like you like this.”

  It’s the smile that does it.

  I can’t remember a guy ever smiling at me during sex.

  Or it might be what he said.

  I learned at a young age to protect myself by never revealing how much I liked someone. It only gave them ammunition against me. And people sure as hell never let me know they liked me.

  Either way, it causes my brain to forget my important mission. And instead of continuing to encourage him to hurry up, I lift myself up onto my elbows and stop what I’m doing. “I like you like this too.”

  He gives me more of that sexy smile as he dips his mouth to mine, not in a kiss, but rather in a slow and erotic caress before he says, “I’m not about speed, Scar.”

  I drop down onto my back again so I can reach for the button on his jeans. “I’ve already worked that out about you. I’m good with you taking this slowly, but seriously, let’s move this along to the naked part.”

  Wilder takes over from me with his jeans, stripping out of them and everything else separating me from his muscles while I shimmy out of my jeans and underwear. When I sit up to undo my bra, he takes over, reaching around and undoing it with skill.

  Slipping my arms around his neck, I say, “Tell me how gentle I need to be with this body of yours.”

  He moves into a kneeling position, sitting back on his calves. Sliding his hands under my ass, he pulls me onto his lap. “Don’t be gentle.”

  I glance down at his chest, taking in both the muscles I die for and also the angry bruises. “Seriously, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Nothing you do could hurt me, darlin’. I want your hands and mouth everywhere.” He kisses my throat, rasping, “It’ll fuckin’ hurt if you don’t give me that.”

  My fingers tangle in his hair as his touch, and his words work their way into my veins, waking all my butterflies right the hell up. “Darlin’? I see your country comes out when you’re getting your moves on.”

  I feel his smile against my throat where he’s still driving me crazy with his lips. “My country comes out when I can’t think straight, and you”—he grips the back of my neck with one hand—“never fail to fuck with my thoughts.”

  “I’m not sure whether to take that in a good way or a bad one.”

  He lifts his head and finds my eyes, and holy fuck, those greens of his kill me when he says, “You should take it in the best fuckin’ way.”

  Before I can fully process that, his grip tightens on my neck while he takes hold of my ass and pushes up off his calves, taking me down to the bed.

  Settling himself between my legs, he proceeds to show me some moves I’m gonna want to sample daily.

  Maybe hourly.

  We may actually need to quit our jobs so I can fit all this sampling in.

  My back arches the second his mouth lands on my pussy.

  My fingers grasp his hair when his tongue circles my clit.

  My mind loses all sanity when he grips the back of my thighs and settles himself in to give me the kind of pleasure I’ve never known.

  “I’m taping your mouth to me.” My words tumble out before I can stop them, but I don’t care one little bit—I would tape his mouth to me if I could. I’d also tape his hands to me. They’re talented fucking hands. Like, if Hand Oscars existed, Wilder’s hands would take home an Oscar every damn year.

  Sadly, my declaration draws his attention from what he’s doing. Lifting his face, his eyes meet mine, all sexy and shit, almost too sexy and shit, and his mouth pulls into another one of those smiles I want to collect and hang on my wall. “Where would you tape it?”

  “Right where you just had it. Why do you not have it there anymore?” I should slap myself for sounding so whiny, but seriously, this man brings out all my neediness. Neediness I’ve never laid eyes on in my life. Who even am I right now?

  His smile attempts murder—me its willing victim. “Here?” He dips his mouth to my pussy, keeping his eyes on mine, and slowly kisses me. Once. Just once. Is he actually trying to kill me? I think so. “Or here?” He tongues my clit with the kind of skill every girl should know in her lifetime. More attempted murder. Of the very best kind. That I would happily die from. I’m never coming back from this. Of that I’m positive. Like, I haven’t even had his dick yet, and I’m already certain it’s going to be the best sex of my life.

  When I don’t give him an answer to any of his questions, he works my pussy with his tongue and lips until I can barely figure out where my thoughts come from and what thoughts even are. All I know is how he’s making me feel, and quite fucking frankly, I never want to feel anything but this for the rest of my life.

  “Holy fuck.” I almost scream when my orgasm hits.

  My back arches up off the bed and I squeeze Wilder’s hair so tightly that I’m not sure how I don’t pull it out.

  “Fuck,” he growls, moving over me and bringing his mouth to my breasts again.

  My hands slide down his body so I can reach for his cock, and he groans as I take it in my hand and stroke it.

  His eyes find mine. “I’d fuckin’ tape your hand to my dick.”

  I push him up and over so he’s on his back. Straddling him, I rub my pussy against his dick and bend to kiss him. I take my time even though I’m more impatient than I’ve ever been to have a guy inside me.

  “That might be a bad choice,” I say as my lips leave his. “I mean, you haven’t had my mouth on you yet. You might prefer to tape that there.”

  Wilder’s fingers thread through my hair as he takes hold of my head and pulls me back for another kiss. Each one is more demanding. More desperate. More passionate even though that doesn’t feel possible because, from the minute we arrived at my place, we’ve been tearing at each other like we can’t get enough.

  When he finally ends this kiss, he rasps, “Show me what I’m missing.�
�

  Making good on my promise to kiss all his bruises better, I kiss my way down his body. I actually don’t kiss his bruises, but rather I kiss in between them all while stroking his dick.

  When I reach his cock, I lick the length of it before taking him into my mouth.

  “Fuck,” Wilder groans, gripping my hair.

  Giving head is one of my favourite things to do, but I’ve never done it with a guy I liked as much as I like Wilder. Turns out, I like it a whole lot more with him. I especially like his appreciation of what I’m doing.

  His hand in my hair.

  The sounds he makes.

  Those eyes of his watching me like I’m the only other person in the world.

  I suck and stroke, sharing my attention between his dick and his balls. I’m all about the swallow, but Wilder has other ideas. When I’ve worked him close to orgasm, he moves faster than I see coming, shifting positions with me so he’s on top. Pulling one of my legs around him, he growls, “I need to be inside you, Cherry Bomb,” and slams his dick inside me in a way that tells me nothing would have stopped him.

  Oh. Jesus. Hell.

  Fuck me, fuck me, and fuck me some more.

  I wrap my other leg around him and hold on tight while he fucks me in all the right ways.

  It doesn’t take me long to orgasm, and he follows pretty fast, but honestly, I barely notice him coming because I now exist in a whole other world. I’m pretty sure it’s called Wilder World. It’s likely where all the girls treated to Wilder’s dick go for a good slapping because that’s what I’m gonna need after this. Someone to slap the sense back into me since all I want now is more of him. And I don’t even care right now if that doesn’t include more of his dick. I just want more. Of. Him.

  Yes, it’s official: I’ve lost my mind, my sanity, and everything intelligent about myself.

  “I’m also taping your mouth to my dick,” he says, rolling onto his back next to me and pulling me against him.

  Sliding my leg to rest on his and extending my arm over his chest, I say, “You can only choose one body part. Hand or mouth.”