How To Tame Beasts And Other Wild Things

by A. Wilding Wells

  “Oooh! That sounds so couple-y.” She giggles.

  “I’ve already asked Alfie and Duke if they’d stay at the house this weekend to watch the cock-blockers and be here if your dad needs anything.”

  “And you’re a planner? So no kids? Just us and a hotel room? Sounds dangerous.”

  I nestle my face into her neck and receive a moan. “It will be, and when I ask you to spread your legs, there’s one answer I want in return.”

  “How wide?” She laughs.

  “Good girl. We’re going to have a no-kids, no-animals weekend. Except me. I’m going to be animal as hell. You’re gonna be calling me beastly brit for all new reasons. I need some uninterrupted time with you. Some breakfast-fuck, lunch-fuck, dinner-fuck time. I want to spoil you for a weekend, I feel like that’s what you do for us nonstop.” Wrapping my arms around her waist, I nuzzle my mouth against her neck then her earlobe. “You give and give.”

  “Now, you want me to put out and put out?” She giggles. “For such a hulk of a guy, I might call you mushy, but I’m afraid that’d be going too far.”

  “I’ll take romantic, and I’ll take care of all the details. All you need to do is pack a bag. Bring at least two sexy dresses—the type I can easily peel off.”

  Matilda turns to me with a planet-sized smile plastered on her face. “I was thinking clothes would be optional.”

  “They won’t be an option at all most of the time.”

  “It’s jammed?” Matilda groans as I wiggle the zipper on her jeans.

  Jeans. She never wears jeans. I finally have her alone in a hotel room and she’s wearing impenetrable pants. She grabs my shoulders as I squat in front of her. “You gotta get my pants off me. I have no interest in dry-humping you when there isn’t a kid within miles. Don’t you have a jackknife or something like that? Wait… I think I have a nail clipper in my purse.”

  “A nail clipper?” I chuckle while jiggling her zipper. “I don’t know, MacGyver. You happen to have anything remotely more powerful than a nail clipper? A piece of string? A feather?”

  “Rip ’em off!” Her laugh rings out. “Let’s see some brute force!”

  “It’ll ruin ’em. But I can do it.”

  “I’m lookin’ for you to ruin me. Wasn’t that the point of this weekend? I’m so turned on right now I might come in my pants.” She runs her hands through my hair. “I’m commando if that’s any inspiration!”

  I shoot her a grin. “These are coming off.” After standing, I back her up to the door. “Hold the knob. I’ll see if I can’t get some leverage.” I grab the opened button fly, each section barely enough to grip above the zipper. “I’m going for it. You might fly. Grip that knob, love, think of it like my cock.” I grunt. Then I shred them.

  Matilda whirls around, and the door flies open as she’s flung to the ground.

  While looking down at her partially bare bottom, I chuckle. “Now this is access!”

  As luck would have it, the door across the hall opens, revealing a well-dressed, elderly couple. The woman shrieks and, “Holy Christ,” comes from the man. Matilda groans.

  “Room service.” I grin as I close the door.

  She rolls over, glaring up at me. “That’s all you could come up with?”

  I unfasten my zipper and pull my erection out. “It was that or this.”

  “Well, thank god they didn’t see that!” She smiles with satisfaction.

  “You might’ve scarred her, but let me tell you. That gentleman hasn’t seen a gorgeous, plump ass like yours in eons. He will now die a happy man. He might even wank one out later.”

  Matilda reaches up while wiggling her fingers. “Get down here with me. I want to give your gorgeous cock a hug. Time for you to ruin me.”

  “Turn over. I’m taking what I want. That beautiful ass is mine.” She flips as I kneel. Then I sink my teeth into her fleshy cheeks as she yelps. “You want me to leave marks?” I whisper between bites.

  She hisses, “Yes, mark me.”

  “I have one question for you, love.” I hoist her up and lick a line from her wet pussy to the top of her spine to receive an excited howl when I bite her shoulder. Then I whisper beside her ear, “Would you like to molest my face with your pussy?”

  “I want your cock.” The need in her voice deliberate.

  I lick my way down the arch of her back. “I’m going to take you from the backside then toss you over and fuck rug burns into your back.” After ripping the remains of her torn jeans, her shoes, and her socks off, I make my way up her legs as I spread her open. She swears under her breath and I drag my tongue through her wet folds and grip handfuls of her soft, fleshy bottom. “I don’t give a shit if the entire hotel hears you yelling out my name.”

  She reaches for my wrist then grips it. “Balthazar, shut up and fuck me already!”

  I ride her hard with deep thrusts from behind, loving the way her arms come around to my thighs. The view of my cock sliding in and out of her combined with her moans has me thrusting with need.

  “Fuck, Matilda. Still for a sec. Don’t move.” I suck a sharp breath through my teeth as I pin her hips against the floor. I’m not fucking coming yet. I hold her there for as long as I can, but she grunts in frustration.

  “Move in me. Move, Balthazar.”

  Shoving her shirt up, I unclasp her bra, kissing the line of her spine, licking her sweat, and inhaling her light, floral scent. Bracing myself up on one arm, I slide a hand under her chest to stroke her ample breasts and tight nipples that rub against my rough palm. A pleasure-filled moan escapes her throat as she rises onto her elbows, giving me room to explore. My tongue rides her neck in pursuit of her ear.

  This is my weekend to convince her to stay, to let her know she’s mine and I’m hers. That my family is hers. France needs to be a distant memory, something she had but doesn’t need again.

  “Fuck, Matilda. I’ve never had this…felt like this.” Sliding my forearm under her belly, I flip her onto her back. “What do you say when I tell you to spread your legs?”

  She licks her lips as the color of lust fills her cheeks and her thighs open. “How wide?”

  I fist my cock to enter her, my tip dragging through her soaked slit. I’m half tempted to take my erection to that soft-pink pout of a mouth, knowing what she delivers with it. Later.

  Her eyes dip from my face, landing on my hand as I stroke myself.

  “Yeah, and you know how wide that is, don’t you, pretty eyes?”

  Her legs open farther. “Yeah.”

  “Show me more. Take your knees up.”

  She drags her hands over her tits, teasing me as she toys with her nipples. Her tongue circles her mouth.

  “You like that?” Her eyes flash to my mouth then my eye.

  “Fuck, Matilda, that’s… Christ.” I groan, going to my knees. Then I grip the back of hers, shoving them to the sides of her torso, and spreading her.

  “Balthazar!” she cries as I thrust inside while I brace myself up with one arm.

  “Don’t stop touching yourself. Fuck, that’s good.”

  She slides one hand behind her leg then the other to her mouth, wetting her fingers until she takes it to her pussy. I thought her tit-fondling was hot.

  “You have no idea, do you?” I grunt through heavy breaths, as her slippery fingers stroke her clit. My cock hardens as my arousal grows. “No idea what you do to me.”

  Then she tells me that she’s there, coming apart. Not that she needs to say a thing. I can always tell. The noises she makes, the way her hips move, her tiny breaths that escalate into pleads and drawn-out moans. She tightens around my cock as her neck and her back stretch and arch to me. And when it all comes together, I fall apart with her. She rips me open at the seams. Every bit of her crashes into me, climbs inside, and clings to parts no one else has ever had access to.

  Post sex shower, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, I gaze at my girl as she studies herself in the mirror, adding brooches to the strap of
her emerald dress. “When I said, ‘Bring a sexy dress…’ Bloody hell, Matilda.”

  My eyes follow a slit that rides her leg, beginning at her python heel and ending at the top of her thigh. My hands ache to slide under the silky fabric and over the wonderland that lies beneath it.

  “You’re gonna take it off me, aren’t you?” She glances to me and twists her mouth. “Is this why you said bring two dresses?” Shaking her head, she asks, “Why did I put this on in the first place? We may never leave this room.”

  After sauntering toward her, I settle behind her. “You put it on so I could peel it off. Fuck, you make me nuts,” I whisper alongside her nape. Then I close my eyes and inhale her. “Nuts.”

  My laugh chases hers as she winks at me while sliding her arms behind my neck.

  “Yeah?” She beams.

  Matilda has one of those smiles that could catch a spy off guard. It’s crooked and toothy, which makes it charming. Her lips are the shape artists want to trace and the color they want to match when painting ripened fruits. And when she does smile, which is often, it always moves me. Some people happen to have been blessed with more magic than others. Matilda is one of them.

  “Shit, you’re adorable. You and your handmade stuff. And that glitter you put on your cheeks sometimes. Where did you come from?” I kiss her neck, knowing her laughter will follow. “Matilda…I love the shit out of you. Do you understand what that means?”

  “Sounds very serious,” she says in a deep British-sounding voice, mocking me.

  “It’s more than serious,” I say sternly. Then I tickle the snot out of her.

  She buckles over. “I swear to god, if you don’t stop, I’ll piss myself.”

  I lift the hem of her dress with one hand as I molest her ribs with my other. “Good. That means you’ll have to take this sexy thing off.”

  “I’ll smell like pee,” she screeches.

  “What do I care, then you’ll be naked, I’ll need to take you in the shower, you’ll be wet. I love when you’re wet for me.”

  She falls to her knees. “Oh my god, stop! We’ll never make it to dinner.”

  “We won’t starve.” I slide her hand to my crotch. “I’ve got plenty for you to eat. You’ve got plenty for me to eat.”

  She smacks my thigh as I continue the assault. “Balthazar!”

  Grabbing the crook of her elbow, I lift her up and kiss her smile. “Okay, fine. Later. And then again.”

  “And again after that,” she says against my lips.

  I pin my forehead to hers. “Tell me you love me, Matilda. You never say it.”

  She closes her eyes, making me wonder if we feel the same way. She must feel everything I am.

  “I love you so much. Do you love me, pretty eyes?”

  She pinches her brow, then her eyes widen. “I do love you,” she whispers. “I love you, Balthazar Xander Cox! I fucking love you!” she yells.

  When she dashes out of the bathroom, laughing, I chase her.

  She throws the suite’s door open then steps over the threshold and screams from the top of her lungs, “I love Balthazar Cox!”

  I crack up as she kicks her shoes off then skips barefoot away from me.

  “I love you, Balthazar Cox!” she repeats yet again.

  I step into the hall after propping the door partly open with one of her shoes. Heads peek from doors along the length of the hall, and she responds to each person.

  “I love him. Him. Balthazar Cox.” She points to me then runs to the next person.

  Lord, she’s not even tipsy. But maybe high…on love?

  “You see that handsome man.” I wave as she points to me. A woman down the hall glances my way and laughs. “Him! I love him!”

  A guy at the next door pokes his head out while scratching his portly, bare gut. “We fucking heard you. We know you love Balthazar Cox, lady. Good for you, Cox!” He glances at me then slams the door on her face, which has her running to the next door like a candy-starved trick-or-treater.

  I watch, swollen with pride, as she leaps, sings, and confesses her love for me to everyone and anyone who’ll hear her. When no more doors are open, she runs to me.

  “I love you,” she says softly as she hugs my torso while gazing up at my face. “I love you, Balthazar Cox. I never meant to leave you wondering.”

  Hoping there’s a forever in us, I hold her against my body. She loves me. How could I have wondered?

  29

  Matilda

  I cut through evil

  like a double-edged sword,

  And chaos flees at my approach.

  Balance I single-handedly upraise

  Through battles fought with heart and mind

  Instead of with my gaze.

  What am I?

  Justice

  Christmas music is piped throughout the hotel lobby, adding a layer of merriment as we head out to hail a cab. The Four Seasons Hotel on Michigan Avenue—where we’re staying—sparkles from top to toe. I spin around breathlessly, appreciating the bejeweled, twinkling trees and glittering fruit-draped wreaths.

  “Hey, aren’t you the broad who loves Balthazar Cox? I saw you in the hall,” A guy behind me asks as he taps me on the shoulder.

  We crack up, and I turn with confidence. “Yes, I love Balthazar Cox.” I lift to my toes, reaching Balthazar’s ear. “And his cock,” I say quietly.

  Finally in a cab, we take in the sights. The city is a buzz of cars, lights, horse-drawn carriages, and dazzling glitter-dipped holiday windows. All of it is exciting and dizzying—as is my earlier declaration. I’m not sure why I haven’t told Balthazar that I love him the way I really do. Maybe it’s because I never heard it growing up. I’m still waiting to hear those words from my dad, will he ever tell me? Those three little words are so easy to say, and they mean so much. But do they say enough?

  I realize why they aren’t words that pop into my brain when I think about how I feel about Balthazar. I don’t love him. No, I adore the fucking life out of him.

  “Balthazar.” I squeeze his hand, pulling him from a trance as he stares out the fogged window of the cab.

  “Pretty eyes.” He smiles. “This is wonderful, isn’t it?” He brushes a piece of hair behind my ear, his eye sparkle, making him look drunk on life.

  “I don’t love you.” I pin my lips between my teeth.

  “The fuck you don’t.” He grins, which peels my face open to reveal my true feelings.

  “What I mean is: I don’t love you. I so-many-things you. Yeah. You see, you just happen to be one beastly brit who’s captured me. So love…for all the accolades—historical, musical, poetic, and otherwise—that it gets, well, it’s not descriptive enough for the way I feel.”

  “So tell me,” he whispers, pulling me close to his side. “You really do love me, don’t you?”

  Nuzzling alongside his neck, I clarify, “I more-than-that. I just… How do I tell you what I feel without sounding corny and cliché? Do you get me?”

  “More than you’ll ever know. I get you.” He smiles. “And the thing is: you really get me. All of me.”

  My eyes sting. “It’s really a lot, the way I feel. I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t scare the shit out of me.”

  I wonder if he does understand how much he means to me. So much that I really may stay. Though I haven’t said it. So much that I can see a future of us. Me, him, the boys. So much that even Cort, who I loved in my own first-love-way, doesn’t hold a candle. Cort and I were boy-meets-girl love. Balthazar though—he’s no boy. He’s all man. From the way he shows his love, to the way he makes love. I had no idea there was a difference. But I know now. I’m with a man—one who adores me.

  My lobster bisque arrives, along with the question of freshly cracked pepper, to which I answer, “Yes. Please don’t stop until I tell you to.”

  Balthazar’s hand reaches across the table. His fingers entwine with mine as he waggles his eyebrow when the waiter walks away.

  “Dirty, dirty.”<
br />
  “What? You’re the one telling a perfect stranger with a twelve-inch tower of wood to not stop until you tell him to. Should I be worried?”

  My knees meet in a squeeze as he slides an oyster into his mouth. “Clearly not.” I drink a spoonful of bisque while he tips the shell up to his lips, supping the juice. “I love watching you eat.”

  “Good. I’ll be between your legs later. You’ll have a front row seat.”

  From the corner of my eye, I notice a woman staring at Balthazar. When I glance at her, she looks away. She seems familiar, maybe she was in the hallway. He doesn’t appear to notice, I ignore her and take a sip of my wine. As I do, he slips a hand into his jacket pocket.

  “Give me your hand.”

  I reach my shaky hand to his. “Relax, love. It’s not what you’re thinking. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah. You kind of had me going for a sec.” I chuckle and then sigh in relief as a held breath pushes out.

  He flips my palm over and lays a sparkly bauble there: a sapphire eye brooch that looks rob-a-museum expensive. A row of eye-catching diamonds rims the border, which leads to a teardrop crammed with sapphires. It’s a piece of art, an exquisite relic. There’s no doubt it holds some kind of meaning, and that very idea shakes me to my core—so much so that it flips out of my trembling hand and plunks in my bisque. Nearly cracking my spine, I straighten as I gaze at Balthazar. Luckily, he’s laughing.

  “Whoopise!” My cringe becomes a smile as I sink my spoon into my bisque to seek out my treasure. “Eyeball soup?” I chuckle at the brooch on my spoon. Then I rinse it in my water glass as Balthazar silently watches me with amusement crossing his brow.

  Rolling my eyes to skirt my embarrassment, I utter, “Sorry about that.”

  His hand slides across the table, where our pinkies meet and hook.

  “This is exquisite. Thank you. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. It’s… Where did you find it?”