I’m not a fantasy, and he isn’t one of many.
Wilder is the only one.
This is about feelings. It’s about being close and leaving an impression. It’s about finding the person who connects with me and into me like no one has even tried to before.
He holds onto my hips, driving into me relentlessly, pushing in and in and in before withdrawing to the tip and doing it again. The front of my thighs slam into the edge of the desk with such force, everything on top of it falls over.
It hurts, but not enough.
I want this ache between my legs for a week. It should feel like my pussy won’t ever be the same again, like my body is only made for him. When I walk, I want it walking with me. When I sit, it should remind me of this very moment. And when I’m alone in my room, just my candles and me, I want to squeeze my thighs together and experience this delicious pain all over again.
Pushing myself onto the palms of my hands, I look over my shoulder and ask, “Is that all you have for me?”
His brows furrowed in concentration lift in surprise, and a soft smile breaks across his face. He cups his hand around the back of my neck and forces me flat onto my stomach again. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I promise.
Wilder perches himself over me, holding both of my wrists in one hand above my head. He holds onto the desk for leverage with the other and comes unleashed, fucking me until my feet lift off the floor. I press the side of my warm face against the cool oak, crushed under the weight of him—consumed by it. There’s not one part of me that doesn’t touch every part of him, and I can’t breathe, but I don’t want to.
Then he says, “I want to see your face when we come.”
And I say, “Me too.”
He lets go of my wrists and pulls out of me, helping me off the desk. I haven’t turned all the way around before he captures my mouth with his. I don’t need his cock to come. His kiss can finish me off from here.
Wilder sits in his chair with his jeans pulled down around his thighs, positioning me in front of him. His impressive dick stands straight up, still wet with my pleasure. I toe off my shoes, and he lowers my leggings to my knees, where I shimmy out of them completely. Wilder laughs at my dance, and I climb onto his lap.
“You’re so beautiful, it’s unreal.” He lifts my sweater over my head and drops it to the floor, leaving me in a lace bra. “I told myself the next time I had you, it would be in a proper bed.”
I circle my hand around the base of Wilder’s length and line my body up with his, sinking onto him one glorious inch at a time. When the plunge is complete, I drop my head back and slowly, smoothly exhale. “I’m not a proper girl, Wilder. No bed is required when this feels so good.”
Just like Lydia showed me on movie night, I swing my hips back and forth in the letter M. Swaying up and back, up and back, until the promise of such sweet bliss curls my toes and holds my heart for ransom. Wilder circles his arms around my back, dropping his forehead to my chest as we climb higher and higher.
There’s no air this high. There’s only sensation on the way to the top.
Then we fall.
And it’s better than I anticipated.
It’s sucking on his fingers to keep from crying out.
It’s an illegible letter M.
It’s his cock pulsating inside of me, and it’s hearing my name escape his lips like a whisper and a vow all at once.
And it’s knowing God died on the cross for me, too.
Because this can only be heaven-sent.
When it’s over, we stay just the way we are, sharing small looks and smaller touches. Wilder kisses the inside of my wrist, and I twirl his curls between my fingers. He runs his hand up and down my naked thigh, and I follow the shape of his bottom lip with the tip of my finger. It’s an exploration we didn’t get to share the first time, and like everything else, it already doesn’t feel like enough.
When Talent comes by, knocks twice on the door, and walks away, it’s such a shame. Wilder stands with me attached to him, and I circle my legs around his waist. We’re sensitive, tender to the touch, and if duty didn’t call, maybe we’d never leave his corner of paradise.
He sets me on the desk, but I don’t let go.
“Do it slowly,” I say, meeting his eyes. “I don’t want to lose any.”
Wilder tilts my chin up and kisses me, but slow is still too fast and the loss is devastating. I cross my legs as soon as he’s gone, and before he can tuck himself away, I take his cock in my hand and rub him clean. Then I wipe it on my stomach, over my breasts, and across my mouth.
