“What?” he barked. “No panties? I hope you’re kidding. What if you ran into Jonas?”
This was a regular theme with him these days. For some reason, he was overly critical of and obviously annoyed with every move poor Jonas made. The guy was too young. Too brash. Too cocky. And his low opinion didn’t make sense. Jonas was none of those things.
Cracking a joke didn’t seem like a great idea so she redirected his attention. “You get that this is the laundry room, right?” She had his belt undone and the zipper on his pants down in record time. She knew this routine well. He’d let her touch him. A little bit. And then he’d take control and she could kiss anything more good-bye.
Deftly going straight for bare skin, Charlie slid her hands into his briefs and caressed his substantial manhood. “After putting my wash in I thought might as well add my undies so, dot-dot-dot, Mr. Merrill. There you have it.”
The redirect worked. His anger was replaced by a wicked snicker. “You are a sexy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased. “Next time I come across your bare ass in the laundry room, I want to find you pleasuring yourself.“
Charlie grinned broadly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She was having a grand old time knowing all the while that it was a matter of time before the pulsing erection she was handling would be buried inside her. She hoped he took her bent over the worktable. She liked it when he took his pleasure that way. Never failed to get her off—multiple times.
She squeezed him gently. Not too much. Just enough to get a response. Caleb had a hand around her neck. When her grip firmed so did his, only he dropped his head back and groaned. After a shudder rolled through him, he straightened and tugged her head so she’d look at him.
“We’re going shopping for some toys.”
Toys? Jeez. She had more toys than they’d ever use or need. “Think I’ve got the entertainment covered.”
“Not those kinds of toys. There are a couple of naughty stores in Philly. Next weekend, let’s drive into the city, have lunch, hit up some dirty shops. Got some ideas I think you’ll enjoy.”
Yeah, she just bet he did. The man was a sexual artiste. She still hadn’t recovered from the sensation play. How did she rationalize ice cubes in her vagina and clothespins stinging her nipples? Or being tied up and blindfolded. He took enormous delight in pushing her boundaries. The sexual being his attentions unleashed gave Charlie an out-of-body perspective. She would do anything he asked. Anything. And yet she was that girl who perfected the eat shit and die brushoff. Those very different aspects to her character made what was happening a wild ride, that’s for sure.
And speaking of wild rides—she was more than ready. Screw the foreplay. In the simplest of terms, one her generation was quite versatile at using, she just wanted some dick.
“Yeah, yeah,” she murmured while closing in for a kiss. “Dirty store. Toys. Got it.” Her lips sought his—he answered in kind and bang! They were off and running.
The raunchy, greedy kiss started a lot of heavy breathing. So did her busy hand and his equally as active fingers. Before long, she’d had enough. Disengaging, Charlie pushed him aside, moved into position, flipped her dress up to expose her ass and bent over the worktable.
No words were necessary. Seemed clear enough as an invitation, yes?
He moved. She heard the thud of his buckle hitting the tile floor. Her body reacted, knowing what was coming next. A heated flood and an aching need made her moan and wiggle her ass.
The next sound was Ty’s mighty grunt when he grabbed her hips, pulled her up and off her toes as he plunged his cock inside her with a ferocious thrust. He rotated her on his hard staff, then bent over and bit her shoulder. Her feet weren’t on the floor, that’s how powerful his hold was.
She. Came. Instantly.
The road to his orgasm was a rough one. He took her hard and fiercely. She whimpered and shook, begging for more. At one point, he stopped moving so she took over the thrusting. Impaling over and over, she rode his cock with backward pushes that stole her breath.
His hands were on her ass, spreading her cheeks. She was delirious with need, bucking wildly. She felt his fingers spreading some of the copious fluid she was generating around the rosette of her ass. Her thrusts got manic. Excited to the point of fever, she groaned when he started playing with her ass. Before long he anally penetrated her with his thumb and she lost it completely.
He took over. The pounding was intense. So was his thumb in her ass. She was locked and loaded for a fierce orgasm when he growled, plucked at her swollen clit and rotated his thumb. That noise? It was her crying uncontrollably as she came.
Along with her powerful contractions, she felt him swell and empty inside her. It was glorious. And dirty. And very, very wicked. She’d just been soundly fucked in her sister’s laundry room, begging and urging him on every step of the way.
There wasn’t much left after that. He gently dressed her after getting some panties from the dryer. Even sat with her on his lap for a good long while until Charlie felt able to function. He made no effort to leave until she was fully back.
She walked with him, hand-in-hand from the house, down the path to his truck parked next to the studio.
“Want me to text you when I’m on my way back?”
Ew. No. She still hated the damn phone and tried to use it as little as possible. “No,” she told him earnestly. “But call if you’re going to be late. Okay?”
He kissed her like a man kisses a lover he’s reluctant to leave. She wanted to take him back to bed. Instead, she kissed him for all she was worth, smiled and stood there like a 1950’s housewife waving her man off as he went to work.
What? Was? Happening?
HIS STOMACH GROWLED AS HE neared home. The lame fast food cheeseburger he inhaled on the turnpike didn’t fill the bottomless pit of his hunger. Contemplating the grill meal he planned for him and his ladylove tonight prompted a replay of the laundry adventure from earlier.
‘‘tessa and her irresistible bare ass was going to be his undoing and it didn’t help one fucking bit that he was completely clueless when it came to being a boyfriend or whatever the hell he was.
Cal gripped the steering wheel and ground his teeth. Boyfriend. He hated the word. He was too god damn old to be a boyfriend. And besides, the term sort of diminished what he saw was his role in context to a relationship with the enchanting Charlize.
He was a helluva lot more than a stupid boyfriend. What he did to her in the laundry room only proved the point. A point made clearer by the irrefutable fact that she started it, set the damn scene and practically begged Cal to push her as far as she’d allow.
Exhaling sharply when he realized no oxygen was getting to his brain because he was holding his breath, Cal let the wild growl gathering inside him burst free. What the hell was he doing?
Several miles went by without a clear answer. Why was this shit so hard to figure out? Because he’d been an asshole about the fairer sex from the moment his first conscious hard-on entered his life. That’s why.
Call it the curse of being fairly good-looking. Oh, and having an older brother all the girls wanted to blow. One of his first forays into sexuality came about because Veronica Bates had the hots for Jax. She had a mouth capable of sucking the varnish off a baseball bat and shared this remarkable talent with his cock one memorable afternoon in a corner of the boy’s high school locker room. Slutty Veronica was willing to do anything—and he did mean anything—for the inside track where his brother was concerned.
From that moment on, he’d wasted little thought on girlfriends and relationships. Why bother when getting busy with the ladies came so easily? And without strings.
It had been so simple until an American girl with an easy personality and a body that wouldn’t quit came along and captivated him. He’d been changing by the minute ever since. And that’s what had him tied up in knots.
Was he doing this right? Shit. He didn’t have any idea but one thing was appar
ent. His life would be empty without her. And that, my friends, was a sobering thought.
Getting a fucking clue was definitely in order. He just didn’t know what steps to take and in what order. He shoulda’ asked Jax when he had him on the phone a while ago. Finding a text from his bro when he stopped to chow down, Cal called him to find out what was up. Seemed the newlyweds were heading for home soon. He’d been shocked and worried in the same second.
Shocked because his and ‘tessa’s little house-playing charade was about to end and worried because it hit him like a ton of bricks that he’d been a dumb ass, yet again, by fixing the intimate side to their relationship before nailing down the emotional details. Details he knew were critical if he hoped for a future with his young lover.
Is this what Jax experienced? Cal could do the math. Plus, he wasn’t stupid where his brother was concerned. Only a moron couldn’t see that he had Brynn on lock down from practically the second they met. Hell. Theirs wasn’t the fastest shotgun wedding in history but four months, or whatever it was, set a new land speed record in their combined family’s histories.
Apparently, he wasn’t that different from his brother. Far as he was concerned, the youngest Wilde sister was most definitely on lockdown. Thing was, he might have skipped a step. Or a couple of steps. Specifically, the ones where she knows what’s what after they declare their feelings.
Yep. Dumb ass. Sleeping with her wasn’t the same as having a fully formed relationship. And he suspected—uncomfortably so—that she’d been trying to say exactly that to him for some time.
He was crawling through town where the speed limit was beyond slow, noticing a thousand tiny details about the quirky artist community where he now lived. Quaint shops lined the main road and cluttered the side streets. Shopping tourists moved in clusters along the cobbled sidewalks. A Tesla drove by, followed by a vintage VW bus. He snickered. The two vehicles were the perfect commercial for the town’s appeal. He liked it here. It sure didn’t hurt that New York City and Philadelphia were commutable. Jax landed in the perfect spot for them to set up a home base for their business.
Pulling in to a parking spot outside the only florist for miles around, he was out of the Explorer and in the store before the cord of brass bells hanging on the shop’s door woke him up from what had to be an out-of-body experience. He’d seen the florist’s sign and without thinking simply went on a mission to bring his ‘tessa a bouquet of flowers.
An apology for using her so roughly this morning? Or a declaration of his feelings? Both. And neither. He just wanted to give her flowers. There didn’t need to be a reason.
Half an hour after stashing a pretty arrangement the florist assured him would evoke a feeling of the coming spring into the back seat, he pulled into the driveway leading to Wilde House. Vaguely noticing the activity at the Bakery, he kept driving, anxious to find Charlize. See what she’d been up to while he was gone.
Bounding up the porch stairs, he stormed the house bellowing, “Hi honey. I’m home,” at the top of his lungs. Silence greeted him. Moving room to room with the bouquet proudly on display, he searched for his ‘tessa and came up empty. It was late afternoon, almost dusk and not even the workmen were around. Where the hell was she?
Poking his head into the dining room, he saw the table set for two and relaxed a little bit. Maybe she was down at the bakery picking up dessert. He laid the flowers on the table and slid the pocket doors shut. Then he went searching.
Stopping to right a planter that knocked over by the back door to the bakery, he cleaned up the mess best he could and barged in as the aroma of cinnamon and sugar hit him in the face and triggered another loud stomach growl.
The guy who did most of the heavy lifting far as how the actual products got made came toward him juggling an enormous bowl and a jug of something hooked on his fingers as Cal scooted out of the way.
“Amy’s in the Tea Room.”
Cal nodded, “Thanks,” and kept on walking. Men of few words were a familiar trope and he knew better than to waste his time on idle chitchat with a guy like that.
Helping himself to a handful of cinnamon bites, he cradled them against his stomach, popping two at a time into his mouth, as he approached Amy from behind. She was gesturing and seemed to be laughing. Schmoozing with the patrons, no doubt.
“It was hilarious,” he overheard her exclaim. “There she was, trying to lug a fifty pound sack of flour out of the storage room when Jax appeared from thin air. Drop it, he yelled.” Amy smacked her hands on her thighs and laughed like crazy. “Sounded like he was telling the dog to drop the shoe from it’s mouth. Brynn went batcrap on him.”
Another voice sounded—whoever Amy was entertaining with a Brynn and Jax story. “Aw, that’s cute, though. Don’t you think? What girl doesn’t want her man to be all chest thumpy and protective when she’s got a baby on board?”
Well, shit. Stumbling upon some random female attitudes was just what he needed more of. Filing that information away, he jammed the last two cinnamon nuggets into his mouth, brushed off his shirt and chewed quick as he could. Good thing too because Amy must have sensed him lurking and turned around.
“Oh my God. And look who’s here! Ladies. Have you met Jax’s little brother yet?” She wound her arm through his and pulled him forward where two pair of assessing female eyes gave him a thorough ocular stare down.
“Monica, Jessie,” she purred. Cal glanced at her. The purr sounded vaguely mocking. “Meet Caleb Merrill—of the Merrill’s of Virginia,” she twanged in a passable southern drawl.
To him she winked and flat out smirked. “Cal, Monica and Jessie are my neighbors. Being the stuck up bitches they are, neither of ‘em bothered to hang out here. Until your brother happened along. Now they come by almost every day, drink all the free coffee they can, and wait patiently for the object of their ogling fascination to make an appearance.”
He grinned and rolled his eyes. Man, his brother had it made.
The older of the two women was looking him over like a car in a showroom. He wouldn’t be surprised if she kicked his tires and tried to peek under the hood.
“Caleb,” she sniggered. “You don’t seem little to me.”
Hold up. Was she actually staring at his crotch and licking her lips? Then the other woman giggled merrily and drank from her mug. “Good God, Jessie. Must you be so obvious?”
“He looks like he can take it.”
Amy shook her finger playfully at her friends. “Aw, come on. You’ve already scared the piss outta’ Jax with your nonsense. Besides, I think this one’s taken. Am I right Caleb?”
Loud noises coming from the parking lot swung everyone’s attention to the windows where an unobstructed view showed activity, and a lot of it, just outside. A horn honked, followed by the distinct revving of an engine.
“Locals behaving badly?” he asked.
A chorus of yips and yee haws got drowned out by the roar of the engine. He figured it was kids showing off.
“Locals?” Jessie sniffed. “Hardly. Try the tall drink of cool water Jax took under his wing and that hellion, Charlie Wilde.”
Say fucking what? His head whipped up and his spine snapped rigid. He was making for the door in the next heartbeat.
“Shit,” Amy muttered. “Cal, wait.”
He didn’t. When his hand grabbed the knob he almost yanked the fucking door off its hinges. Stepping out of the Tea Room, he heard Amy snapping at her friends. “God dammit, Jessie. Are you insane? And she’s not a hellion. She’s just … Charlie.”
Just Charlie. Well. He’d see about that.
Stomping like a madman he charged toward the parking lot as a flash of orange and black whizzed by. Planting his booted feet like he was preparing to attack, Cal watched dumbfounded as a ’69 Dodge Charger started doing precision donuts in the parking lot.
And driving the muscle car? The goddamn Baroness of fucking Wild.
“Damn girl,” a masculine voice lauded. “Gonna get you signed
up at the Pocono Speedway!”
Er, uh …what?
She pulled out of the donut and did a loud, roaring circuit around the edge of the lot, ending with a dramatic burnout. That was when he’d had enough. Barely registering who else was standing around, Cal zeroed in on a wildly laughing Charlize—determined to pull her out of that damn car and drag her away to safety before she got hurt. The fact that she drove like a fucking pit boss barely registered.
Five steps from the car, Jonas moved into his field of vision. He was laughing and high fiving the hand extended through the car’s open window.
Uh, no, no, no, no. No fucking way.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you?” Cal growled, bodily shoving the younger, leaner man out of the way. “You trying to wrap her around a tree?”
Jonas, who Cal knew damn well was an ex-Marine, had the skills to kick his ass despite his unthreatening appearance. But knowing and giving a shit are different things.
“Back off, buddy,” the younger man warned. “Chuck knows what she’s doing.”
“Chuck?” The minute he asked, Cal knew how stupid he looked.
“Yeah, you know.” A totally separate voice chimed in. Cal looked up and found three of the workmen Jax employed standing right behind them. The smallest guy, a bearded hipster going by Patch, elaborated.
“Chuck, chuck, fo-fuck
Banana fana, fo fuck
Fe Fi fo fuck
Chuck!”
Everyone laughed. Jonas the loudest. Cal lost his fucking mind and grabbed the man by his throat, pulling his arm back, lining up to punch his fucking lights out.
“Jesus!” An arm was wrestling with the fist he had at the ready. “Caleb. What are you doing? Stop this!”
He shook his arm, trying to dislodge the annoying hindrance. All he wanted to do was flatten the other man’s grinning face.
A half-assed punch landed square in his gut—shocking him just enough to let go of Jonas. He reached a hand out to grab whoever was interfering, took hold of an arm and yanked.
Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) Page 37
