Wylde

by Sawyer Bennett

  It’s been hours since I last heard from Aaron, though. I’d stayed at the hospital until just past midnight last night when he’d insisted on taking me home since I had to get up early to open the store. Of course, I refused to let him take me home and had insisted on an Uber. There’d been a back-and-forth argument, then a compromise when Nora offered me a ride as she had to leave due to early appointments the next morning, too.

  Baden’s surgery lasted throughout the night. He finally came out of it around nine this morning. Aaron kept me apprised via texts throughout the day, but, by noon, everyone was urged to leave and get some rest. Dominik put Baden’s parents, who’d flown in from Montreal, up in a hotel and Aaron had told me he was going home for a shower and a nap.

  My last communication from him was around three this afternoon and since then… nothing. I have to assume he’s still resting, and it’s hard to resist the urge to call and wake him up. What I hate the most about this, though, is I am feeling this pressing need to be by his side, if for nothing more than to just be a presence should he need me. Throughout my time at the hospital, I could see how horrific this was for Aaron. Baden isn’t just a teammate. He’s a brother to them all, so his injury directly struck each of them. I’d never seen Aaron so weighed down with emotion.

  Never seen him so quiet and withdrawn, either. I’m not used to it. It’s freaking me out, although I simply cannot take it personally. This is a moment in our relationship when we will learn something about each other… how we deal with tragedy.

  The knock on my front door startles me so badly I let out a tiny yip of fright. But I immediately know it’s Aaron.

  Or rather… it has to be him.

  I practically hurdle over my coffee table as I rush to the door, flipping the lock and swinging it open without even bothering with the peephole.

  And damn… he looks awful.

  Without thought or hesitation, and without needing to ask the million questions I have burning within, I simply pull him into my house and wrap my arms around him in a hard hug.

  I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to feel him until the relief courses through me when he returns my embrace, dipping to rest his cheek on the top of my head for a few moments while we just absorb each other.

  Finally, I ask, “Have you gotten any rest?”

  “Yeah,” he replies, pulling slightly back from me. “About an hour this afternoon. We just had a team meeting, so I thought I’d come by. Hope that’s okay?”

  “It’s always okay,” I rush to reassure him. “In fact… would it be weird if I offered you a key?”

  His smile is wan, but I can see he likes my offer. “I’ll give you a key to my place, too.”

  “Wow… we are getting serious,” I tease.

  His smile falters, but only because it’s obvious he has bad news. Taking his hand, I lead him around the loveseat to the couch, urging him down. I settle in close beside him, brushing my fingers over his brow as he spreads his legs under the coffee table and leans his head back against the cushion.

  “Baden may never walk again,” he murmurs, his voice choked with grief.

  I move up to my knees until I’m hovering over Aaron. His eyes are closed, his face pinched with pain. I press my lips to his temple. “But he’s alive, Aaron. And if there’s a chance he might never walk again, then there’s a chance he could, right?”

  His eyes flutter open and he just stares, his expression devoid of any hope. This perpetually happy, funny, spontaneous man who never gives up appears utterly defeated. My chest constricts so hard I lose my breath.

  His pain becomes my pain.

  “We can’t give up hope,” I say softly, leaning in. This time, I brush my lips against his.

  Aaron lets out a stuttering sigh as his eyes slowly close, his hand moving to rest at my waist. “Kiss me again, Clarke.”

  I scoot in closer, one hand going to his shoulder, the other resting on his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat pulses against my palm, and I dip my mouth to his again.

  Aaron’s lips part, allowing my tongue to slip easily inside. Something rumbles in his chest, and his fingers contract on my waist. My kiss is medicine to him right now and if this is the only way I can help him—bring some measure of peace to his mind—then I’m all in.

  Without hesitation, I swing a leg up and over until I straddle Aaron’s lap. His eyes fly open, and the blankness has disappeared. Instead, a flicker of fire lights them. Despite the heaviness of the moment, my body responds to it.

  My hands curl into the material of his shirt, and I tip my head to the side. Leaning in, I glide my lips along the strong, corded muscles of his neck. Without hesitation, I drop one hand to the hem of his shirt and snake my hand under it. Running my palm along the ridges of his hard abdomen, I ghost it upward over his chest. Twisting my wrist, I rub a knuckle over one of his nipples. Aaron growls in response. He shifts his body, grips my hips, and presses me down on his pelvis.

  The evidence that just the tiniest of touches from me has a big effect—a huge and hard one by the feel of it—goads me into being bolder.

  Gives me the courage and power I need to give Aaron pleasure not only when he needs it, but also when I need to give it to him the most.

  Scooting backward on his lap, I drop my fingers to the button of his jeans. I do this while looking straight at Aaron, making sure he doesn’t need something different from me.

  The dark lust swimming in his eyes tells me I’m on the right track.

  “I’ve been thinking of doing this to you for the longest time,” I murmur, feeling a bit of heat flush through my cheeks at the admission. “But I’ve been a little too shy, and, let’s face it… you’re always in command, Aaron.”

  His lips curve upward into a soft smile. “You can take command of me any time you want, babe.”

  “Even if I want to do something like this?” I ask, not intending for my voice to sound all breathy and kitten-like, but it does anyway. The way it makes Aaron’s eyes darken seems to indicate he likes it.

  My fingers pop his button, and I slowly lower the zipper over the thick bulge. Aaron sucks in a long breath through his nose as I graze my knuckles down the ridge, separated from my skin only by the cotton of his briefs.

  I can see a problem right away. Between Aaron’s position on the couch, with me on his lap and the fact his enormous erection has made things a bit tight between his briefs and jeans, it’s not going to be easy to get at him.

  I tip my head up, seeing Aaron as he watches me intently.

  Waiting.

  In need.

  He needs me.

  I slide off his lap until my knees hit the carpeted floor, Aaron’s strong thighs on either side of me. Gently pushing my fingertips into the waistband of his briefs, I say, “Lift your hips for me.”

  Moving without hesitation, he lifts his butt off the cushion. I tug at the material in my way. First down over one hip, then the other, until I finally ease the material over his hard shaft and release it from its confines.

  Over the last few weeks that I’ve been sexually active with Aaron, I’ve done my fair share of touching his cock and I’ve certainly examined it in between kisses and such. But now, I just take a moment to admire the sheer beauty of the part of him that makes him so distinctly male.

  He’s long and thick, covered in velvet-soft skin, with gorgeous veins running under the dusky color. Aaron keeps himself well-trimmed, and he’s like a visual piece of art. I’ve never given the male anatomy much thought other than for the arousal such an appendage can cause when used correctly, but I swear I could stare at Aaron like this for hours.

  Lounging back on my couch, eyes heavy and pants pulled down past his hips, he looks debauched. His thick cock laying heavily against his lower belly, just waiting to be touched.

  Or maybe kissed.

  Sucked.

  I rise up on my knees, bend over Aaron’s lap, and run my tongue up the length of him. It’s the first time I’ve touched him there with
my mouth. He groans loudly in a mixture of what seems to be pain and pleasure at the same time.

  I look up, almost not able to bear what I see in return. His eyes glitter almost dangerously… and the shiver that runs up my spine is delicious.

  My hand slides along his thigh, over the bunch of his jeans, and I wrap my fingers around the thick warmth of him. I give a squeeze, bend over his cock once more, and suck the tip of him into my mouth.

  “Fuck, Clarke,” Aaron growls, his hips jerking upward. I push to take him in even deeper. He’s way too large for my mouth to accommodate him fully. When the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, I fight against my gag reflex.

  I may have willingly and foolishly given up my virginity to a man who hadn’t deserved it, but this is the first time I’ve ever had a man in my mouth. And I find this more monumental than anything I could have ever given Tripp. I feel infinitely closer to Aaron while I suck on his length, listening to his moans as I bob up and down while in control of his pleasure.

  Aaron’s hands come to my head, and for a wild moment, I want to give him control. I want him to grip my head in those large hands of his, then allow him to fuck my throat however he sees fit. Because I trust Aaron to not hurt me—unless it’s in a mutual, hurts-so-good way.

  But he shows restraint, merely stroking my temples with his thumbs as he steadies my head. I move a hand to the base of his cock, firmly jacking the length of him in the opposite direction of my mouth.

  Aaron mutters, alternating between curses and praising me. “Feels so fucking good, Clarke.”

  With how hard he’s breathing and the way his hips are moving under me, I can tell he’s getting close.

  Suddenly, his hands tighten and he stops my motion. I have him in deep, my tongue flattened on the underside of his enormous shaft, when I look up to find him staring at me with an expression I can’t quite gauge.

  Awe?

  One thumb strokes my cheek as he murmurs, “My cock in your mouth… it’s fucking beautiful.”

  I purr in response, loving how much he’s enjoying this. Knocking his hands from my head, I redouble my efforts and start to work his length faster. Aaron groans, curses again, then starts to flex his hips, urging me on.

  I stroke him hard, suck him in deep, and squeeze his balls with my other hand. Lust starts to make me dizzy—the realization of my actions turning me on like never before.

  And then… Aaron grips me by the nape of my neck, pushing me down firmly on his cock until he’s pressing against the back of my throat. I reflexively swallow, feeling the muscles of my throat ripple around him, and he groans out, “Oh, fuck, Clarke… I’m coming.”

  It’s glorious when his hot seed floods my mouth. I swallow over and over again as he releases into me. The feeling that I’m giving him something special—something almost holy between us—overwhelms me. Tears prick at my eyes. It’s a feeling I memorize, because I know something monumental has changed between us once again. I now own a piece of him, the way he already owns a part of me.

  Aaron gently pulls me off his spent dick, his hands going under my armpits. I feel slightly woozy from my efforts, but I’m satisfied in a way that also has me feeling mellow. Aaron easily lifts me from the floor, pulling me up his body until he settles me on his lap. He shifts so I don’t crush his well-used cock, then cuddles me against his chest. Wrapping his arms around me, he presses his face into my neck and murmurs, “You are amazing, Clarke.”

  Simple words, but the force of emotion behind them hits me in all the feels. I don’t feel the need to say anything back, but I do wonder if this is what love feels like…

  I wonder if Aaron is thinking along the same lines?

  Maybe we’ll talk about it soon.

  One day.

  CHAPTER 23

  Wylde

  I walk into Baden’s room, gritting my teeth at the horror of seeing him in the bed with tubes swirling all around him. He’s been heavily medicated since his surgeries, and I still don’t understand everything that has happened to him. I’ve heard everything from lacerated spleen to spinal concussion to brain hemorrhage to… my head spins from it all.

  If that isn’t bad enough, one of his attackers sliced into his face, cutting him from temple to jaw. There’s a jagged line of black stitches running down his face, reminding me of Frankenstein.

  Giving him a quick glance, noting he’s still sleeping so deeply he doesn’t stir, I move past his bed and hand coffees to his parents where they sit on the other side.

  “Thanks, Aaron,” his mom says with a tired smile. I’d like to say I understand some of their fears right now, but I don’t. If I were laying in that bed instead of Baden, I’m not sure my mom would be by my side.

  My dad, well… too late for that, but had he been living… he most certainly would not be here.

  I move back to the other side of the room with my own coffee, content to sit and just visit quietly for a few more minutes. We’re trying not to overwhelm the Oulett’s, but everyone is concerned. When I managed to sneak in about ten minutes ago, I’d immediately volunteered to get them some coffee.

  A slight tap on the doorframe has me twisting that way, and I see Dominik. He has a teddy bear in his hand, which seems odd. His gaze locks on Baden’s mom, and he glides quietly into the room straight to her.

  He hands her the bear, bending to kiss her on the cheek. “Figured you could use something soft to hug once in a while.”

  To my surprise, she laughs and pats Dominik on the cheek. “That’s very sweet.”

  Dominik shakes Baden’s dad’s hand before nodding toward the bed. “How is he this morning?”

  “He’s not woken up yet, but the doctors aren’t concerned. They’d rather have him resting. His brain function looks good, though.”

  “Excellent news,” Dominik murmurs, then looks at me. “You good?”

  “Good, boss,” I reply in a low voice as I push out of the seat I’d just taken. There are officially too many people in the room now, so I’m going to cede my spot to Dominik. I hold a hand up to his parents. “I’m going to head out to let Dominik visit a bit. You both have my number… call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks for coming, Aaron,” Baden’s dad replies.

  I move my gaze to Dominik. “You got a minute before I leave?”

  “Sure,” he replies easily and follows me out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  I move a few doors down, then lean against the wall. Pushing my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, I ask, “What’s the latest word on Baden?”

  I didn’t want to ask his parents, but I know Dominik is being kept in the medical loop since Baden is his player and employee.

  Dominik gives a morose shrug. “There’s just no telling. Seems like he’ll heal fine from the stab wounds while the brain bleed seems to be under control. But the doc said it could go either way on the spinal injury. We just won’t know until he’s awake and able to undergo some functioning tests.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, scanning the hallway. “I just can’t believe this happened.”

  “Good reminder that life can change on a dime, right?” he replies.

  “Makes you want to grab those you care about and keep ’em close,” I concur.

  Dominik claps me on the shoulder and starts to turn back toward Baden’s room, but I halt him. “There’s actually something else I need to talk to you about.”

  Pivoting back to me, Dominik cocks an eyebrow at the somber tone of my voice.

  “It’s personal,” I say, setting the tone right off the bat. “Has nothing to do with the organization.”

  “What can I do for you?” he asks.

  Not “What’s up?”

  But “What can I do for you?”

  That’s just Dominik’s way… he’s always ready to help one of his guys.

  “This may seem like a strange request, but do you have any contacts in Los Angeles who are big in the film industry?”

  Dominik jerks his
head up, blinking in surprise. “Why? You thinking about going into the movies?”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “Not a chance. I’m very happy playing hockey for you.”

  “Sure,” he replies easily. “Frank Cannon is a good buddy of mine.”

  Now it’s my turn to blink. Cannon is only the hottest director in Hollywood right now, and of course, Dominik’s good buddies with him. Why wouldn’t he be? Dominik is one of the most influential people around right now, as not only the owner of the current Cup champions built from an expansion draft, but he also owns a championship basketball team and is a multibillionaire.

  “Okay… this is going to sound weird,” I admit apologetically, “but I could really use his help in getting revenge on someone.”

  “Excuse me?” Dominik says, his head dipping closer as if he didn’t hear me right.

  I look left down the hall, then right, noting we’re essentially alone. “Okay… going to just lay it out for you. There’s an actor out there named Tripp Horschen—”

  “The asshole who humiliated your girl,” he says bluntly.

  “You know about that, huh?” I mutter.

  “Willow and I share everything. She told me, and she feels awful for Clarke. But you know I can’t support you doing anything criminal, right?”

  I glance away for a moment, because, well… technically what I want to do is slightly criminal, but chances of me being caught are slim.

  “Okay… here’s what I want to do.” I take a deep breath, then let it out. I lay my plan out to Dominik, realizing it seems cruel and petty, but it’s also a lot better than me going out to Los Angeles to beat the shit out of him.

  When I finish, Dominik just shakes his head with a small smirk. Finally, he says, “I’ll call Frank and have him set it up.”

  “Really?” I ask incredulously. “You don’t think this is juvenile and unwarranted?”

  Dominik snorts. “If that had happened to Willow, I’d be coming up with something just as devious. Maybe even more so.”