by Snow, Jenika
Wilder was with his brothers, so I came into the bathroom to get ready for bed... and to do a lot of thinking. Over the last week, how I felt for him started to consume me in an unnatural way. I wanted to embrace it, let it make me feel like I truly found something that could be mine.
I’d never felt this kind of consumption before, not for a person, not for anything in my life. Maybe that was why I ran, bouncing from one town to the next, never setting up roots, because I was too afraid of the possibilities. I turned my head and looked at the closed door, knowing Wilder wasn’t in the room, but still being able to picture him on the bed, his big body dwarfing the full-sized mattress.
My emotions for him scared me, and even if they did excite me, it was that fear that had me keeping my distance, that had me realizing I couldn’t stay here any longer.
It had been that curiosity, the fact that I felt this connection, being drawn to Wilder in a way I’d never been drawn to anything or anyone before, that made up my resolve. And so I told myself I stayed to make sure he survived, that this had to be something special.
And he had survived, was getting stronger by the day.
It was time for me to go before I fully let myself be immersed in everything that was Wilder.
I braced my hands on the basin of the sink and leaned forward slightly, exhaling, my eyes closed, this conflicting war inside me making me so exhausted. I didn’t want to fight it. I just wanted to embrace what I felt, but it went against my nature. It went against everything I’d ever known.
I finished getting dressed, putting on the terrycloth shorts and another plain shirt Amelia had given me, since she was always the one handing me the items. I picked at them, exhaling, just wanting to go to bed, because my body was wiped, yet my mind was wide awake.
I opened the door and shut off the light, stepping into the room and stilling when I saw Wilder sitting on the edge of the bed. He had his elbows resting on his knees, his big upper body hunched forward slightly, his head turned in my direction as he looked at me.
For a moment, I just stood there, my heart racing as we stared at each other. I was reacting so strangely because of what I’d just been thinking about. I felt how awkward I was in this moment. I cared about Wilder so much it scared me enough that I knew I had to go, because if I didn’t, things might get too deep.
And going too deep could get you drowned.
If I gave myself over to Wilder completely, then what? Things didn’t last forever; they couldn’t. That was made abundantly clear to me throughout my whole life. It had been my mother who proved that to me first, with her constant neglect, her presence and attention only gifted to me when she was smashed. She gave me my first taste of loneliness, told me without saying it that I couldn’t count on anyone but myself.
And then it was everyone else in-between, people who pretended to be my friends, co-workers acting like they cared. It started at a young age, when I realized staying in one place for too long, being sedentary, meant I was giving up too much. I was risking myself. I was going to be lonely regardless, and so it would be on my terms, in a new city surrounded by only myself, so I’d never risk getting attached to anyone or any place.
“Hey,” he said in that deeply masculine voice of his.
I licked my lips, swallowing roughly. “Hey.” I said that way too softly, but the small smile Wilder gave me told me he heard nonetheless.
He lifted his hand and scrubbed it over his jaw, the days’-worth of stubble starting to cover his cheeks. “Can we talk?”
There was nothing more I’d love to do than talk. I nodded slowly, unsure what he wanted to speak to me about—the situation, that it was time for me to go? Although even thinking that’s what he wanted to talk to me about had this pang settling in my heart.
But I knew it would be for the best, despite it hurting me horribly. I knew that with finality.
I walked over to sit on the couch, but when he shook his head and made a low disapproving sound, I stilled. He placed his hand on the mattress beside him.
I felt my blood pump faster.
I made my way over to him, his eyes tracking my every movement. I sat down toward the edge of the mattress, several feet still separating us.
A moment of silence passed before he commanded, “Come closer, Zoey.” His voice was deep and had every part of me tingling with awareness.
I licked my lips again and started moving on the mattress, shifting my body until there was now just an arm’s length separating us.
Another bout of silence. “Closer.” God, his voice was so deep, husky, like he’d been gargling sand. And still, he stared at me so damn intensely.
I exhaled slowly and moved closer until I felt his body heat deep in every part of me. Goose bumps moved along my arms and legs, and I curled my bare toes against the cold hardwood floor. He didn’t even have to touch me, and I felt so... aware.
Wilder still said nothing, just kept his focus on me, his eyes seeming hard, like cut diamonds. I heard him inhale deeply, and I felt my face flush, wondering if he was smelling me.
“Fuck,” he said softly, and I could tell he meant to say it to himself. He tore his gaze from me and stared straight ahead.
I could see the way the muscle under his cheek twitched as if he ground his teeth. He had his face set hard, clearly plenty of thoughts running through his head right now. I’m glad I wasn’t the only one, although I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say—that I had to leave.
I wasn’t worried about him hurting me physically, or Frankie not keeping his word about me not getting hurt. I knew Wilder would never let anyone hurt me. How I knew that, I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like I really knew these men or the women. But in my heart, I understood Wilder wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
Maybe I should be the one to broach the subject first, to not wait for him to say the words that definitely needed to be said. But God, they felt so abhorrent to me it made my stomach clench. I was just about to open my mouth and speak, when he looked back at me, everything in me tightening painfully. His gaze was so focused, so dark in intensity, that it had my throat closing in.
“I want to first say I’m sorry about what Frankie did. Taking you, keeping you here….” he spoke and ran his hand over his jaw again, looking pissed all of a sudden before he schooled himself.
There was some thick emotion in his words, and I could tell a man like Wilder didn’t show that very often. But he wasn’t even trying to hide it from me. His throat moved as he swallowed, and although I could hear and see his feelings written across his face and laced in his words, his eyes were still so hard as he stared at me.
“I get why he did it, but—” God, I didn’t want to say the words but knew they had to be out in the open. “—it’s time for me to leave.”
I felt the air thicken, heat. I felt everything shift in an almost violent manner, as if the words I just uttered were the catalyst to something massive happening.
I didn’t know what I expected from him when I finally spoke that out loud, but I didn’t expect to get this. Because after the tension dissipated in the air, the nothingness I saw on his face had my blood running cold. His statuesque expression. The void. It was all so painfully clear.
I ran my fingers over my bare thighs, my hands shaking.
I noticed the way his eyes lowered to the action before he dragged them back up slowly, looking me in the face again. “You’re trembling, Zoey,” he said softly, yet his voice was so deep. It had dual sensations moving over me, through me.
I didn’t know how to respond, so I just nodded slowly. I was surprised I was able to keep it together as much as I was.
“Do I make you nervous?”
I took a stuttering breath and shook my head, but that was a lie.
“Do I scare you?”
I couldn’t breathe. I shook my head again, and although I wasn’t afraid of him, I was afraid of the emotions he caused within me. I closed my eyes and exhaled roughly. I whispered, “I don’t kno
w anymore, Wilder.” A second later, I felt his finger under my chin, the slight motion turning my face more toward him.
“Open your eyes.” The demand came gently, but it was an order nonetheless.
I slowly opened my eyes and heard him suck in a deep breath, as if the sight alone affected him so profoundly he couldn’t contain himself.
“God,” he muttered before dipping his gaze down to my mouth. I licked my lips involuntarily, as if the sight of him watching the act alone was a physical touch. “You make my heart stop, Zoey.” I wondered if he meant to say it out loud. When he stared me in the eyes again, it was then I felt my heart stop. “I don’t know what’s happening, how I could feel like this—” He took a deep, stuttering breath before continuing. “—but I know one thing with certainty.” He paused, but I knew it wasn’t for a dramatic effect. He seemed at a loss for words. “I know what I feel is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, Zoey,”
It was like time stood still, like the world was revolving around us. I watched as he lowered his eyes to look at my lips once more, and then he started to lean in. I knew what he was going to do, knew he was going to kiss me. I could’ve stopped him, could have escaped, since I was a pro at that. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
It all happened in slow motion, and despite all rational thought telling me that starting this with Wilder would make this situation even more complicated, that it was a recipe for disaster, I wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth on mine. I wanted to feel all that power, all that male, passionate aggression moving over me, consuming me, taking away every single reality until I could just focus on this one moment in time.
I felt his hand slide behind my neck, his strong fingers pressing into my skin. A chill raced up my spine from that small touch, from the sensation of his warm breath moving along my slightly parted mouth. I couldn’t breathe, felt like my body was on fire from the inside out, and was so confused and aroused I just wanted to lean in and be the one to kiss him.
But I didn’t. I stared into his eyes, letting him take control. I knew nothing about seducing a man, knew nothing about making the first move. And a man like Wilder—all male, raw power wrapped up in an over six-foot, muscular, tattooed build—could no doubt show me exactly what wicked things he could do with his body.
I closed my eyes, and the closer he leaned in, I anticipated the feel of those firm, full lips against mine. But as the seconds ticked by and I still just felt his frantic breathing against my skin, only then did I open my eyes. He was staring at my mouth, his jaw set hard, this mask of pure, unadulterated lust coming from him so strong I actually sucked in a startled breath. He looked like... he was about to snap.
“Wilder,” I whispered, not sure what I was going to say, but that lone word spilling from me seemed to be the match that lit this situation on fire.
In the next moment, he groaned, cursed something under his breath, then slammed his mouth down on mine. It was sudden and intense, his lips on mine, his tongue stroking the seam until I opened and let him in. The fingers at the back of my neck dug in almost painfully, but I found I loved it, yearned for more.
“Touch me,” he said in this pleading, guttural tone, breathless as he pulled back only an inch.
I had my arms around his shoulders, bringing myself closer to him. He groaned again, and before I knew what was happening, he had me hauled over him, so I now straddled his lap.
He still had his hand on the back of my neck and placed his other one at the small of my back, the slight pressure enough to tell me he wouldn’t let me move away. And as he kissed me, stroked his tongue over mine, made these purely male sounds in the back of his throat like this was the best thing he’d ever experienced, I felt my control slipping as well.
I rested fully on his lap, felt the impossibly hard length of his erection pressing against his pants, digging into the very intimate, sensitive part of me. Wilder was big in all ways, his body honed to male perfection, hard in the way a man was who worked out and stayed healthy. And what he sported between his thighs was no different. Despite the clothing separating us, I could feel he was long and thick.
He slid his hand up the center up my back, over my hip, along my side, and I hoped like hell he’d twist his hand so he could cup my breast. The mound ached for his heavy palm, squeezing my flesh, the weight tantalizing to my sensitive nipple. God, he was so close, right at the underside of it, stopped as if he wanted to do what I achingly needed him to.
Please. Touch me. More.
He devoured my mouth.
Our heads were tilted, our tongues dueling, yet I let him take supremacy. I let Wilder lead the way, because knowing he had the control turned me on like nothing else. I found myself griping his shoulders forcefully, digging my nails into his skin, hearing him groan from the act. I pressed my pussy down on his hardness more, his grunt spurring me on.
Something inside me started to unravel, and as I slid my hands over his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense, jump under his warm, smooth flesh, all I wanted to do was throw caution to the wind and not think about anything or anyone but seeking out the pleasure that only Wilder had ever brought out of me.
I pressed my lower body down on his hardness, felt the rigid outline of his erection, that steel pipe that I knew would hurt so good if he were shoved between my thighs, thrusting all those inches in and out of me. Those dirty images filled my head, and I found myself rocking back-and-forth against him, the material of our clothing causing this delicious friction to build within me. My breathing was frantic as we continued to kiss, tongues dueling, both of us trying to reign supreme in that moment. He had his hands on my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh. And then he started helping me, moving me back-and-forth over him a little harder, a little faster. The pleasure was unlike anything I’d ever felt, this pressure building inside me, starting at the base of my spine and moving outward.
I moaned, groaned, mewled, and cried out softly, unable to keep the desire-laced sounds spilling from me. I was panting, trying to suck in air but not wanting to break away from the erotic torture of Wilder’s mouth.
He slid his hands over my waist, along my sides, and gripped each side of my neck, using his thumbs to tilt my head back so he could fully devour me. And he did so completely, so fully, that I felt myself break away into a million little pieces.
I came so hard it had stars dancing behind my closed lids, colors and flashes that had me leaving reality and experiencing something so profound it didn’t seem real.
And all the while, he kept rocking me back and forth on him, over and over again, drawing out my pleasure so I was begging for him to stop, to ease the sensitivity… to keep going.
There was no hope in putting myself back together. I didn’t even want to.
I felt that pleasure crest again, peak higher, and as I tumbled over the edge, all I thought, felt, smelled, was Wilder. He had his hands on either side of my face now, tilting my head fully to the side so he could fuck my mouth, thrusting his tongue in and out between my lips as I rode out my orgasm. The rough sounds coming from him made my desire grow higher, had this indescribable sensation filling me.
As my climax started to dim, I reached between us, trying to push down his sweats, to feel his length and hardness in my hand. I was frantic, needing Wilder like I needed to eat and breathe and sleep.
He was gasping for air in a purely masculine way, gruff sounds mixing with his respirations to make this auditory orgasm surround us.
But he stopped kissing me, broke way, and I was left feeling empty and cold, chills racing over my body. I clutched at him, trying to bring him closer, needing his mouth on mine again. I wanted more than that and was nearly so far gone I was going to beg him to fuck me.
“Baby,” he groaned, placing his hands on top of mine that were right on the drawstring of his sweats.
“You don’t want this?” I managed to wheeze out. I opened my eyes, my vision blurry from the pleasure. My face felt flushed, my lips swollen. He g
roaned and closed his eyes for a second, lifting his hips so a gasp spilled for me when I felt how hard he still was.
“Oh, I want this. I really fucking want this.”
“Then don’t stop,” I whispered. I hadn’t been able to stop myself, acting like this wild animal fiending for him.
He groaned again as if in pain. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to at all, because I’m so far gone, baby.” He panted harshly. “And I don’t want to do this with a houseful of people, when both of us experience this together for the first time.” We stared into each other’s eyes, and all I wanted to do was argue.
But what he said made perfect sense. I wanted Wilder so desperately I could barely think, let alone breathe, but he was right. I didn’t want to rush this, even though I felt like I’d been waiting an eternity to feel this with someone.
He rested his forehead against mine, and we breathed in the same tempo. “Can I just… hold you?”
I could have laughed at that, simply because I would have let him do more to me than just hold me. I smiled before nodding.
He leaned in and kissed me softly, and then he was pulling me down on the bed, my back to his chest, his big, muscular arm draped over my side as he kept me to him.
I moved my hand to place it over his much bigger one, and then we twined our fingers together. In this moment, despite the fact that we had our clothing on, even though he was so hard, his cock digging into my back, my pussy wet, and my panties soaked, because he’d gotten me off, this moment right here was so much more intimate than if we had sex.
And I didn’t know if that should scare me more than anything else. But right now, I wasn’t going to think of that.
Right now, I was just going to embrace and enjoy that, for the first time in my life, someone cared enough about me that they wanted to hold me while I slept.
Chapter Sixteen
Zoey
Week two with the preacher brothers
