The Drift: Preacher Brothers, 3

by Snow, Jenika

  I swallowed, hearing the truth in those words.

  He moved his hand between our bodies, his knuckles brushing along my sensitive, soaked folds. And as he stared at me face, held my gaze with his, I felt him position the thick, bulbous head of his erection at the entrance of me. Everything in me stilled as I waited for this one moment.

  Wilder held very still, not thrusting into me. I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t beg for it. My pulse pounded in my ears, sweat started to dot my body, and I waited, let him lead the way, make his move.

  Seal this forever.

  With his cockhead nudging at the entrance of my pussy, his hands on my hips, and his nails gently digging into my flesh, I knew one thing for certain.

  There was no going back from this.

  And nothing had sounded more perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Zoey

  I held my breath as I felt Wilder start to push his cock into me. My mouth parted on its own as he thrust shallowly, working his length through my slick folds.

  “Fuck,” he gritted, baring his teeth. I glanced over my shoulders to look into his face. “You’re so fucking tight.” He clenched his eyes shut for a second before opening them, and I saw liquid fire burning in their depths. “Relax, baby,” he groaned. “I need you to take all of me. I need to be in to the hilt in this tight cunt.” He exhaled and tried to do what he said, but he was so big and thick, long. “That’s it,” he praised when I started to relax. “Let me all the way in.” He pushed into me some more, those massive inches stretching me wide. The pain was there, but God did it feel incredible. He held his upper body up above me by placing his hands on the mattress beside my head, his forearms locked tight.

  The look on his face. The way he stared at me. The way he fucked me… it was pure ownership.

  The pain of being stretched by his size had my eyes watering, but that discomfort morphed into pleasure with each passing second. The clench of my inner muscles around his dick had a gasp leaving me and a grunt spilling from him.

  “So. Wet.”

  God, I was. I was soaked, but he was so big that it was hard trying to fit all of that cock into me.

  “So primed for me and this big cock.”

  Yes.

  He pulled out and pushed in, shallow thrusts, covering his dick with my wetness so the penetration was easier. I gasped and moaned; he grunted and groaned. And when he was all the way in, he cursed loudly. I rested my forehead on the mattress and breathed out.

  “You feel me, feel how much I’m in you, baby?”

  I could only nod.

  With him all way inside me, he stilled, and I knew it was to let me get used to his size, his depth. His balls were pressed right up against my clit, the heavy weight substantial. I bit my lip hard enough I tasted blood, and that in turn caused my pussy to clamp down on his dick.

  “Oh. Fuck.” Those two words sounded feral, carnal as he groaned them. Those words, the tenor of his voice, speared into my body and created this delicious vibration that went straight to my clit. I gasped as my pussy clenched again. “Christ.” He slid his hand up the center of my back, gripped the nape of my neck, and tightened his hold ever so slightly, pulling my head back and baring my throat. “I’m going to fuck you so damn hard, Zoey. So fucking hard.” He pulled out a little and shoved back in as if to make his point. “You’ll know who you belong to,” he said so low I didn’t know if I heard him correctly.

  He started pulling out of me then pushed back in. Over and over, easy thrusts, ones to work my body into a frenzy. And they did. A sharp exhale left me as the sensations moved through me. But as the seconds moved by, I could sense his control slipping. His fingers dug into my nape, his thrusts becoming frantic. I could tell he was giving me the real him.

  He was fucking me.

  Beads of sweat covered my flesh, and my throat was dry, because I kept sucking in air, needing it, getting drunk off it.

  “Fuck. Yes, Zoey,” he hissed. “That’s so fucking it.” Wilder fucked me harder and faster, and my pleasure rose higher until it was on the precipice of claiming every single sane part of me.

  I felt his hand snake around my belly and his fingers at my clit. He rubbed that little bundle of nerves back and forth, and I couldn’t hold off the inevitable. I didn’t even try to stop myself.

  I came explosively for him.

  And he kept pumping into me, thrusting in and out, driving that force in me higher until I was reaching the stars. Before my ecstasy even waned, Wilder pulled out, causing a startled sound at being suddenly empty to spill from my lips.

  “Wilder—”

  He had me flipped around and onto my back before I could even finish speaking. A second later, with both of my wrists now in one of his huge hands, he lifted them above my head and held them there.

  My legs fell open on their own, and Wilder was right back between them, positioning his cock at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine. I thought he’d shove right back into me, but he didn’t. Wilder slowly penetrated me inch by thick inch. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moaned. When he was all the way in, the root of his cock bumping my clit, electricity slammed into me so hard I cried out. He pressed his pelvis against me, and my head fell back on its own, the sensations moving through me like tiny explosions coursing through every single cell in my body.

  He didn’t give me time to become accustomed to his size again. He just started fucking me, no more soft and gentle, just full-on Wilder. The expression on his face was fierce and filled with pleasure, but again… he was looking right at me, making sure I was right here with him. I saw it clear as fucking day.

  “God.” I squeezed my eyes shut again, flashes of light filling my head. “Wilder. Yes. Yes. I’m going to come again.”

  He grunted out, “Fuck, yeah.” He slowed his thrusting, as if torturing me was his ultimate goal. Placing his hands on my inner thighs, his fingers framed my pussy, his cock still filling me thickly. And then he lifted my legs and pressed my knees to my chest, spreading me out obscenely.

  God, I’d never felt so exposed before.

  Muscles I didn’t even know I had protested from the act, but the pleasure outweighed that, and it caused Wilder to slide in even deeper, if that were possible.

  I reached out and curled my nails into his flesh. He claimed me so fully. He slammed his cock inside me so hard, and I cried out so loud my ears rang. Over and over, he did this, hitting something deep that it felt like fireworks were going off in me.

  “Zoey,” he groaned my name like a dying man then leaned in and ran his teeth and tongue over the side of my neck, down my collarbone, and stopped at one of my breasts, his shaft still in me. He bit at me flesh gently, and I cried out in ecstasy.

  Wilder was languid in his ministrations, keeping me on the precipice of climaxing, erotically torturing me. He moved his teeth and tongue back up the same path he descended, took root at the base of my throat, and sucked at my flesh so hard I knew he’d leave a bruise.

  “I need it again, Zoey,” he said softly against my now damp, sore skin. “I need you to come for me again.” He trailed his tongue up to my ear and lapped at the shell. “Come all over my cock. Make it slick with your cream.”

  That was all it took for me to get off.

  I arched my back, my breasts thrust out, the chilled air abrading my flesh and puckering my nipples more until they ached. Wilder grunted, and I knew he was close to finding his own release. He slammed into me then rotated his hips, pressing his body against the little bundle of nerves and sending sensations spiraling through me.

  “Kiss me—”

  He gave me what I wanted before I could even finish begging. Our combined flavors mixed together as we pressed our tongues against each other, and then Wilder was thrusting into me three more times in quick, hard strokes, seeking his own orgasm.

  On the fourth thrust, he buried himself all the way, both of us grunting at the intensity. I swore I felt him swell even more. His huge body seemed to sha
ke against mine, and the sound of his pleasure had my own rising higher.

  “Fuck. Zoey,” he barked out my name, and then he was going over the edge right along with me. I stared wide-eyed at him as he came, his head thrown back, the muscles in his chest and neck standing out in stark relief.

  And I swore to everything, I felt the hot jets of his cum fill me, coat every single inch of me, felt him get thicker in my pussy.

  I was the reason he lost control, and it turned me on more.

  When his orgasm started to wane, I felt his big body start to relax atop mine. His breathing evened out, and he opened his eyes to look at me.

  He rested his chest to mine, his face buried in the crook of my neck. I felt his hot breaths along my flesh and wrapped my arms around him, holding him, keeping him close. He was heavy, his muscles crushing me, but I wouldn’t have wanted him any other way after what we’d just done. I wanted him just like this, to feel his weight on me, but he rolled off me far too soon. Wilder didn’t have to make me wonder what he planned on doing with me after this was all said and done, because he pulled me in close to his body, my back to his chest. He made me feel… at home.

  I felt myself start to relax even further when Wilder started rubbing his fingers up and down my arm. For several seconds, we did nothing but lie there, his muscular body almost cocooning me, protecting me. I felt that from him, his need to make sure I was kept close and safe. Our breathing eventually evened out, an identical rhythm.

  “I could get used to this,” he murmured against my hair. “With you by my side, pressed against me, sated because of me.”

  I smiled at the sound of his voice, so sleepy and comfortable. God, that sounded good. So good.

  I stared at the closed door, placed my hand over his, which rested on the bed right beside me, and closed my eyes. I wanted to be honest with him, to open up and just say everything that came to my mind, but the words lodged in my throat. But talking to someone would be so… nice. “I’m not used to this,” I finally whispered.

  He pulled me in tighter to him. “Used to what, baby?”

  “Used to feeling—” Like I belong somewhere. Like someone wants me. Like I don’t have to run. “—used to the feeling of being with you.” That’s not what I’d meant to say—not out loud, at least—revealing as much as I did in a few spoken words, but they were out in the open with no chance in censoring it now.

  He stayed silent, but his hold on me never loosened.

  “It can always be like this.”

  I closed my eyes and felt my heart jerk in my chest.

  I wish that were the case.

  “My mom left when I was young, ran off with someone who gave her the feeling of love in the form of a syringe.” I swallowed those emotions, never having spoken this out loud. “I learned at a very young age I could only rely on myself to survive.” I felt his kiss at the top of my head.

  “I know all about shitty parents,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a support system. I had my brothers, and they were the only ones who got me through those dark times.”

  “I’m sorry for you too.”

  We didn’t say anything else, but the silence was comforting. It had me relaxing even more against him. But the silence made me think of things I probably shouldn’t, that negative feeling trying to take over.

  Could things really work out with us? Could we actually be together? I wanted to believe so, kept playing that positivity over and over in my head as Wilder pulled me in closer, had the blanket around us, and nuzzled the top of my head. I felt his body start to relax in no time at all, and then his breathing evened out as he drifted off.

  And as much as I wanted to try, to believe that happily ever after’s and fairy tales happen, all I’d ever done in my life was run. I’d been escaping the possibility of happiness for so long that it was engrained in me that I could never have it for myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Zoey

  Later that night, as I listened to the sound of Wilder’s strong, soothing breathing as he slept, I tried to let myself just embrace how lulling it was. I was on my side, one arm wrapped around his abdomen, my fingers sliding gently over his hardness. I’d been like this for hours, unable to sleep, the house so quiet, but my mind so loud.

  He had his arm wrapped around my shoulders, my head resting on his thick bicep. I ran my fingers over his stomach, saw the muscles clench involuntarily, the abs so defined. I didn’t know how I got into this situation, lying in bed naked with the brother of the man who kidnapped me. I was so head-over-heels for Wilder it made my head spin.

  I tipped my head back and looked at his face hidden in shadows. He looked so peaceful, yet despite the gentleness I saw, felt from him, I knew how dangerous Wilder was. I knew how strong he was.

  His short black hair was disheveled from when I dragged my fingers through it, tugged at it when he’d been buried between my thighs. The sticky reminder of what we’d done coated the inside of my thighs, the pleasure he’d given me for the first time in my life like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I had never even imagined it could be this good.

  I lost myself in Wilder.

  I lost myself to Wilder.

  I closed my eyes and pictured what we’d done just an hour before, and the hour before that, and the hour before that. He’d taken me over and over again, as if he couldn’t get enough, as if he’d been insatiable. I’d never felt such a consuming sensation before. When I thought I couldn’t take anymore, couldn’t have had gotten off again, Wilder proved to me that I could, that he’d draw the measure out of me until I writhed for him over and over again.

  God, I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted this to work, wanted to be with him. But I was terrified, and the desire to have happiness was always ruined. Fear ruined things. I was a runner, despite telling myself and anyone else the opposite. I pushed myself up and looked down at him, my palm sliding to the bandage. He didn’t have it fully wrapped around him anymore, and now it was just a thick square of gauze, a “four-by-four” Kimber had called it. Everyone was shocked he was even alive, let alone healing as well as he was.

  I smoothed my hand gently over the gauze, over his healing wound. I closed my eyes again and pictured the first night I met him, the first time I stared down into his pale face as he bled all over me, as his brother kidnapped me. In that moment, I knew this man would change my life forever. I just hadn’t realized it would be this way.

  Even from where his wound was, I could still feel his heart beating. It was strong and steady, comforting and reassuring. I swallowed down my emotions, refusing to cry. And I would’ve if I had been weaker. I would’ve just opened up and let the tears fall like a dam being burst open.

  He shifted slightly on the bed but remained sleeping. I had to do this now or I wouldn’t be able to, wouldn’t have the strength later on, because the truth was, I’d fallen in love with Wilder. I’d given this man my heart, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I had something that could be just mine. But with happiness came heartbreak… disappointment.

  As was life.

  And it was that possibility that had me quietly, gently slipping out from under his heavy, muscular arm and getting off the bed. He shifted again, and I held my breath, thinking he’d wake, that he’d stop me. I had no doubt about that. I believed him when he said he wouldn’t let me leave, that he’d come for me... that I was his. But I was good at running. I’d made a lifetime career out of it.

  Because everyone was gone, tonight was the perfect night to do this. No one would try to stop me. But God, it was hard leaving, almost impossible moving away from Wilder, because he was like my own sun, my personal shot of endorphins.

  It was for the best. This way, no one got hurt.

  Those thoughts felt like acid as they rolled around in my head. Even then, I was trying to talk myself into going, because my heart and brain were at war.

  I slipped on my clothes—the outfit I wore on the very first night I’d bee
n brought here. Amelia had washed and dried them for me, but I still saw the remnants, the stains from Wilder’s blood. I ran my fingers over it.

  After I was dressed and had my shoes on, I walked over to the little table by the couch and grabbed my purse. I knew Wilder had been the one who’d gotten my bag back for me, had made Frankie give me my phone as well. He trusted me, and I knew he thought what we shared and felt for each other was a permanent thing.

  Nothing lasted forever.

  But I was a coward, and I told myself this was for the best for both of us.

  So with one lingering look at him, I opened the door and slipped out, each step that took me away from Wilder tearing a little piece of my heart from my chest.

  The house was dark and quiet. It was empty, void of life. I placed my hand on the handle of the sliding back door and stilled, looking over my shoulder and staring down the hallway at where Wilder was sleeping. Everything in me screamed to go back to him, but reality told me to go.

  And that’s what won out in the end as I pulled the door open and stepped outside, silently closing it behind me. The night air was cool with a gentle breeze moving around me. I breathed in deeply for a second. I realized this was the first time I actually stepped out of this house in over a week. I hadn’t had chains or locks keeping me in place. No, I had my heart that was the weight, the anchor. My heart and emotions had been my own personal guard.

  I adjusted the strap of my purse on my shoulder and started making my way toward the front of the house. I didn’t know where I was or how far away I was from town or even a bus stop. But I was good at surviving. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I had on my own all these years.

  So I just started walking. I was about to round the corner, and was going to walk down the long driveway, and then I’d worry about the damn gate when I got there. But before I could take more than a few steps, I heard the click of something to my left.