Going Wild (The Wild Ones Book 2)

by C. M. Owens

  During his downed-to-a-bed time, he lost a lot of the definition he’s sporting now. I want to lick every inch of him and call him mine.

  My eyes gravitate to where he’s rolling the condom on. Maybe there’s some lip-licking—from me.

  He slowly lowers back down to me, and I grab him by the back of the neck, forcing him to kiss me again so I can forget how stupid crossing this threshold will be.

  Sex is intimate when it’s with someone you care about. Look at Lilah. She had sex with her best friend, and now she’s married to him.

  She may be in the midst of conceiving a litter right now because I wouldn’t put it past Penny to tamper with her birth control.

  I forget about Lilah when Liam starts kissing a path down my throat, and my fingers dig into his shoulders, as my hips arch, desperate to feel him.

  “We spent three weeks on foreplay, and almost a year fantasizing what this would be like. Please stop teasing me before I choose stubborn instead of stupid,” I murmur against his lips as they find mine again.

  Without asking what that means, he reaches between us, and I feel him bumping against my entrance. That’s the only warning I get before he thrusts in deep, causing my breath to catch in my throat as my entire body tightens in anticipation.

  Breaking the kiss, he lifts up just barely, and draws back before thrusting in again, going all the way in this time.

  His forehead drops to mine as he releases a shaky breath, and my legs wrap around his waist as he visibly strains with effort. I feel stretched and surrounded, completely under his control as he curls around me, drawing back just a little and thrusting forward again.

  He releases a tortured sound, and I grin as my nails rake across his back lightly.

  Without useless words, he starts moving inside me, and my eyes roll back in my head as he kisses a trail from my neck to my lips before searing me with a mind-numbing kiss, all while his hips roll and put some really incredible pressure on my clit.

  It’s not the frenzied, uncontrollable sex I expected. It’s slow, sensual, almost as though he’s worshiping my body with his. Each movement is calculated, drawing out maximum pleasure as he slowly sends me closer and closer to that edge.

  My mind is mush. Absolute garbled mush.

  One of his hands slides down my leg, lifting it higher around his waist as he starts fucking me from a new, even more mind-mushing angle.

  He breaks the kiss, his head coming back as he stares directly into my eyes. It’s almost a tangible crackle of something between us in that moment. An artist would capture the souls in our eyes at this exact second in time, paint two people far too different to be so lost to each other.

  The hues and shadows would bring to life the romance, hiding our obsessive tendencies so it’s even more romantic. There’d be a realness to it, while also an edge of fantasy.

  His hand goes to my hair as his hips start thrusting more insistently, his rhythm growing speed and force. The added pressure along with him so deep inside me is all I can take.

  I cry out, my eyes screwing shut as that heat and pressure coasts over me with tingles and sensation, my release so powerful it drains every ounce of energy I have. Everything on me wants to shudder, even as he starts fucking me harder, drawing it out as he chases his own.

  My eyes lazily open, just in time to see his jaw clenched, his eyes full of fire, and his body strung as tight as possible before he suddenly stills, then thrusts in again.

  Every muscle in his arms relaxes as he struggles to say upright, and his eyes roll back in his head before he drops exaggeratedly to my body, causing me to do that damn giggling thing again.

  He starts kissing my cheek, slowly moving to my lips, and I run my hands through his hair, drawing him closer until our lips collide in a lazy kiss.

  “So much better than I thought it could be,” he murmurs against my lips.

  My heart is doing the fluttery thing it tends to do around him.

  It’s doing that thing where it’s trying to latch on once more.

  Then again, I’m not sure if it ever let him go. What now?

  He pulls out of me, and I watch as he staggers to the bathroom. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready to go again,” he calls over his shoulder.

  Then…I giggle again.

  For fuck’s sake.

  “Then I need a shower so I can stop smearing dried mud all over your fancy bed,” I say with a respectable, non-giggly tone.

  “I have more sheets,” he calls from the bathroom.

  Just as I enter, he’s about to walk out, and he grabs ahold of both sides of the doorframe, blocking me as he towers over me and smiles down at me like the wicked wolf.

  I might as well get that boob tattoo. He’s going to be the death of me.

  Trying to seem impervious to the super strength sex appeal, I duck by him, head to the shower, and…squeal like an idiot when he’s suddenly lifting me off the ground, his front pressed to my back. I start laughing when he carries me into the shower and turns on a spray of ice-cold water.

  I’m still laughing lightly when it starts to warm up and his mouth comes down on mine, kissing me stupid even as we both smile like idiots.

  It turns into a really dirty shower. Yeah, I’m still lame like that.

  Chapter 17

  Wild Ones Tip #491

  Sometimes people think our crazy is contagious.

  Just know the effects aren’t usually permanent.

  LIAM

  My arm stretches out, reaching and reaching for Kylie…until I touch the edge of my massive bed and realize she’s not anywhere on the cold side of the mattress.

  Darting awake, I look around, seeing her boots gone.

  Pushing the covers off, I start looking through the house, calling out her name. Of course she’s gone.

  Groaning, I run a hand through my hair.

  I really thought after last night, she was mine. Which is stupid, because I knew it wouldn’t possibly be that easy before I ever moved out here.

  There’s no note, and she doesn’t have a number to call.

  Frustrated, I pull on some clothes, grab my keys, and start to go search for her. However, when I open my door, Bill is standing there with none other than George Malone.

  I’ve seen this movie.

  This is the part where the obsessed city guy who stalked the girl gets killed and dumped in the lake.

  “Good!” Bill says with a wide smile on his face. “You’re up! Challenge committee is meeting in ten minutes. You can ride with us.”

  George has his eyes narrowed as he looks past me and into my house.

  “Kylie here?” he finally asks, his eyes meeting mine.

  Not awkward at all.

  “Nope,” is the only response I give while walking out, moving between them as I head toward the dock. “So what happens at these meetings? And how much warning is there usually?”

  “It’s always spontaneous and there’s a lot of arguing. This year, we finally get the best challenge passed, because we have you,” Bill says.

  He claps my shoulder.

  Benson drives by in the new ski boat he just bought, since Lilah’s boat finally crapped out and she took his boat as a wedding present to herself. Killian and Hale are with him, and I half want to slap them for not being the ones to come get me.

  Killian and Hale turn to give me a telltale grin when they see the beastly Malone right on my heels. Dicks. This is because I canceled steak night to spend all night with Kylie.

  Without thinking too much about it, I hop down onto George Malone’s hover boat, wondering if I should leave a note for someone to find in case I go missing.

  Refusing to look at him again, I concentrate on Bill, hoping to get some insight into what kind of madness I’m about to walk into.

  “It’s a very classy gathering,” is his only lie.

  ***

  “For the last time, Hale, we are not going to wear loin cloths as a challenge! It’s not decent!” Vick—the only cop
in this town—groans. “No one wants to see balls all the time.”

  “My balls are beautiful,” Hale deadpans.

  “You knew the ones with tiny dicks would never go for this,” Killian tells his brother dryly. Then reaches down and grabs his crotch. “They’d have to be put to shame by us, then all those desserts and casseroles would start coming to the Wild Ones instead of the boring ones.”

  Vick palms his face, as Joey starts arguing that his dick is the biggest dick he’s ever seen, even if he’s not a Wild One. Paul gets in on this argument, also raving about his ‘massive stallion’ that has his girlfriend ‘wild’ with glee.

  I just slouch in my seat, trying not to draw attention to myself as I soak in all the crazy around me.

  “This is why we banned Wild Ones from these meetings. Why did you let them back in?” another man asks. “There’s a reason they can’t all be in the same place at the same time for very long.”

  A guy—a Wild One from the Nickel family, I think—makes a sound that eerily mimics a jaguar’s battle cry, and another guy falls out of his chair.

  The jaguar impersonator snorts a laugh and bumps fists with the guy on his left, who is also laughing.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, someone get them out of here. This is getting ridiculous,” another man groans.

  “I’m cool with the loin cloth challenge,” Kai Wilder states absently, a massive knife in his hand as he shaves the head of his brother in front of him.

  Because publicly shaving your brother’s head with an apparently super sharp machete is a completely normal thing to do while having a town challenge committee meeting.

  “Because you’re a Wild One,” Killian says with a shrug. “And they don’t have the balls to go through with it,” he goes on, gesturing around at a few red-faced, angry men.

  “This is why they were banned,” a bearded man gripes as he gestures to Hale, who is pretending to hump the face of the man getting his head shaved by a machete, causing an eruption of laughter from everyone around.

  Even I have to restrain a smile when the half bald guy reaches for Hale, and misses by inches, not giving a damn there’s a knife close to his head as he leaps to his feet and scrambles to grab the quick-footed Vincent.

  Seeing a guy with half a head of hair and half a bald head curse as he chases Hale, slinging shaving cream everywhere in the process…well, it’s not something you witness every day.

  Hale laughs as the bigger guy chases him, and Kai Wilder wipes the machete blade off on his jeans to remove the shaving cream.

  “What’s the vote? Who wants to do the loin cloth challenge?” Vick says on an exasperated sigh.

  Only the Wild Ones, excluding Benson, raise their hands.

  “So that’s a no. Onto the next challenge suggestion,” Vick says as he reads a card. Then he groans as his eyes come up to meet Bill’s. “Again, Bill? Seriously?”

  Hale is still running circles, wearing down the half bald guy who is struggling for breath. Kai sticks his foot out, tripping Hale, and giving Half-Baldy a chance for a split second, until the nimble Vincent is back on his feet and out of reach again.

  Bill rubs his hands together like a giddy teenage girl as he perks up beside me. “I say put it to a vote,” Bill states confidently.

  “With the Wild Ones, he’ll get the votes he needs. Them and that new city boy that stalked Kylie,” a man snaps as he jumps to his feet on the aisle across from us.

  Ah, great. Everyone knows I’m a lunatic. Awesome.

  Weirdly, no one even bothers looking over at me, as though it’s a casual thing to stalk a girl these days.

  Only in Tomahawk.

  Half-Baldy finally gives up chasing the ever energetic Hale Vincent, and finally drops back down, smearing a wad of shaving cream on his head again as Kai whips his machete back out.

  Since they’re both in the section allocated for Wilders, I can only assume that’s his brother.

  I don’t know that I’d trust anyone with a blade that size near my head, but certainly not my family.

  “He’s been trying to get this passed for three years! And it’s ridiculous! People will laugh at us!” the man shouts.

  “Sit down, Chester. Your weak challenges have tired us all. It’s time for some more fun,” Bill argues.

  This…is why I signed up. I grin as I sit back and continue to take it all in. I’m more of an observer than a participator.

  “His last challenge lasted nine damn years!” Chester roars.

  “And it was the best challenge this committee ever had, because you started outnumbering us when you got the Wild Ones booted.”

  “George never left, so I didn’t get rid of all the Wild Ones,” Chester spits, glaring at George like he’s somehow offended him by existing.

  “George is part of the founding families. He can’t be excluded,” a man says dismissively from close by. No one seems bothered by the tension. It’s…again…normal to them.

  “George thinks it’s time for a bigger, better challenge, and George believes Bill is right,” George says, stating the words flatly before “scratching” his cheek with his bird finger that is aimed at Chester.

  I grin broader.

  It’s so ridiculous you can’t help but be entertained when it’s real-life action rolling out in front of you.

  “How is this even manly?” Chester screeches.

  “How can you ask that in such a girly voice?” Hale volleys, causing Chester’s blood pressure to become obvious when he turns a very alarming shade of red.

  “It’s romantic, and if Chester got laid by anything but his calloused hand, he’d understand how fucking manly you have to be in order to be romantic,” Bill says with so much conviction and pride that I’m instantly intrigued.

  He’s never once told me what I had to vote for. Just said whatever he or George put to a vote better get voted for by me. I didn’t bother asking about the consequences.

  They’re like the quirky rat pack in this place.

  “We’ll be laughable fools if we go through with this,” Chester goes on.

  “It has to be put to a vote,” Bill says with his fist raised toward Chester.

  Chester brings up both fists next to his short white beard. “The Wild Ones shouldn’t get a vote!” Chester shouts.

  I expect violence, so I shift over in my seat a little. However, this standoff goes on for a few minutes, both of them arguing, and I notice some people even yawn.

  “We like romance too!” Hale decides to argue…weirdly. “We even like poetry and shit.”

  “Roses are red. Violets are blue. God made us pretty. What happened to you?” Killian drawls, swiveling his head toward Chester, who glares at him.

  I’m actually lost now, since I don’t know how we went from talking about a manly challenge to talking about poetry and romance. I really hope it’s not beard related.

  I legit can’t grow a beard.

  “The Wild Ones did the beard challenge for nine long years. The Wild Ones ended the nightmarish challenge as well. So they deserve to be in the challenge committee until they accidentally blow something up or break it beyond repair,” Vick says on another long-suffering sigh, as though he’s explained this numerous times.

  “Then let’s vote,” Bill states emphatically. “Stop wasting time.”

  “Just explain to me why this is romantic and manly?! It’s feminine and degrading!” Chester argues.

  “My Penny has wanted to live in a musical since she saw Funny Face, though it’s only for the dancing and not the singing—be glad for that. The least I can do is make her dream come true. All the women would love it.”

  “Lilah won’t,” Benson grumbles from my other side. “I have to do this for nothing.”

  Do what?

  The suspense has me looking like a sucker on the edge of my seat, my eyes bouncing like a tennis ball as I wait to figure out just how crazy and insanely dangerous this challenge is going to be, while also wondering why Chester is horrified by it.
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  And what do musicals have to do with anything?

  “The chicks will totally dig it,” says the balding Wilder, shrugging a shoulder, even as Kai Wilder continues to shave his head one long, deadly swipe at a time.

  “I fail to see how this is a wise thing to—”

  Those words are cut off by something that sounds too damn much like a real grizzly bear, as one of the other Nickel brothers opens his mouth like he’s roaring. Because he is roaring. That bear sound just came from him.

  The guy talking ends his words on a squeal, and both Nickel brothers break into hysterics.

  “Damn Wild Ones,” Vick grumbles too close to the microphone, pinching the bridge of his nose. Without looking, he adds, “Fine. Who here wants to river dance every weekend—”

  “And Holiday,” Bill interjects, holding up a finger as he interrupts Vick.

  I’m sorry…river dance?! What the hell?

  Vick takes a calming breath before gritting his teeth and continuing. “Every weekend and holiday, whenever they hear Lindsey Stirling playing over the town speakers, who wishes to vote that all men must river dance?”

  “Why does it have to be a female violinist?” a peculiar looking short fellow asks from the front. “I play violin too.”

  “She has more talent in her pinky nail than you do in your entire body,” Bill says dismissively. “Only the best for our women,” he adds.

  “Agreed,” George Malone says from the other side of Benson.

  “Just vote,” Vick grumbles.

  Bill’s hand raises. Several other hands go in the air.

  My hand lifts reluctantly, because I can’t fucking river dance. This is not why I signed on. Did someone miss the part where I’m just a nosy observer?

  Bill starts counting hands anxiously, and Chester is counting as well, their voices and counting out of sync and tumbling over each other.

  “It’s a tie, so it doesn’t count!” Chester shouts, at the same time Bill shouts, “We win by two! River Dance Challenge accepted!”

  Then the two turn and glare at each other, both arguing the other one can’t count, and then take education-quality jabs.