Usually, when I’m with a woman, I’m getting ready to head out the door by now.
Barring the fact that I brought Morgan to my room, the only place I plan on going is down. On her.
I slip out of her body. I rise up onto my knees, remove the condom, and toss it in the trash can.
My hands land on her knees. I push her legs apart, and they spread willingly.
I run a finger through her short patch of hair and into the lips of her pussy, and she whimpers.
“You’re wet for me again.” I take my finger into my mouth and suck her from it.
Her lips part on a gasp, and I like that I can shock her.
Fuck, she tastes good.
Exactly like a pussy is supposed to.
I lower myself onto her body. Her pussy is wet against my abs. I take her nipple into my mouth. She cries out my name.
I spend my time alternating between her breasts, licking and sucking, until she’s mindless and writhing beneath me, her hips seeking out pressure from my body.
“Wilder…I need…”
I lift my eyes to hers. “What, sweetheart? What do you need?”
There’s nothing hotter than a woman telling me what she wants me to do to her. And to have Morgan tell me? Way fucking hotter.
Her eyes are lit, but there’s a shimmer of embarrassment, too. I’m digging this shy side of her.
“Tell me,” I rasp out. Keeping my eyes on hers, I lower my head and scrape my teeth over her nipple.
Her body shudders beneath me.
“Your mouth.”
“Where?” I circle her nipple with my tongue.
“On my…pussy.”
Fuck yeah.
I kiss my way down her body, settling between her legs. I run my nose between the lips of her pussy. The tiny, coarse hair tickles my skin as I breathe her scent in.
Then, I circle her clit with my tongue.
Her hips come up off the bed on a cry.
I put her legs over my shoulders and band my arm over her stomach, holding her down. I bury my face in her pussy.
I lick and suck the most sensitive part of her body, teasing with grazes of my teeth.
When my finger pushes inside, she becomes shameless and starts riding my finger and my face.
And I fucking love it.
Her hands are gripping my hair to the point of pain, but I don’t care.
My cock is rock hard again. Desperate to be where my finger is.
But he’ll have to wait. I’m not fucking her until I get her where I want her to be—coming against my mouth.
I pull my finger out and push my tongue inside her, fucking her with it.
“Oh my Jesus.” Her voice trembles.
I pull my tongue out and slip two fingers inside her at the exact same time as I suck her clit into my mouth.
Her body goes rigid. Her heels dig into my back. Then, she goes off like a rocket. Yelling out my name along with a bunch of obscenities.
I keep with her right until the end, until she’s squirming against me.
I lift my head, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
Morgan looks sated, happy, lying there as she comes down from her orgasm.
For some reason, I find myself committing the image of her like this to my memory.
“That was…wow…you’re really good at that.” She laughs softly.
I quirk a brow. “I’m good at a lot of things.”
Rising up, I lean over and grab another condom from my wallet. I slide it on. Then, I wrap my hand around my shaft and slowly jack my cock once, twice.
Her wide, lusty eyes follow the movement.
“What do you want now, Morgan?” I ask, my voice gravelly.
“You,” she says.
I lean over and kiss her. She wraps her arms around my neck, bringing me closer, kissing me harder.
I easily slide inside her. She’s so slick and hot and ready for me.
I go at a slow pace to begin with, and not once do I stop kissing her.
But then need takes over, and I rise up onto my hands. Staring down at her, I start thrusting harder and faster. I’m pushing her up the bed with every surge of my cock, her tits bouncing with the movement.
Her legs come up around my hips, gripping me to her. And I can’t take my eyes off her.
Her hand slides up around my neck, cupping it, and she brings me back to her lips, kissing me. She sucks on my tongue, and I feel it—the heat down my spine, telling me I’m close to coming.
“Morgan…” I groan.
“Yes…that’s it, Wilder…right there…”
A strangled cry leaves her lips, her legs locking tighter around me, her pussy squeezing my cock like a vise, and I explode inside her, groaning loud enough to wake the dead.
Like I give a shit.
I’m inside the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’ve just come inside her twice in a very short space of time.
Life is good.
No, it’s fucking awesome.
I finally drag myself away from Morgan after another make-out session, following that last round of sex.
I’d go now again if I could, but I don’t think my cock will allow it.
He needs a rest before round three.
I go into the bathroom to clean up and dispose of condom number two. I grab a washcloth to clean Morgan up with.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror over the sink.
The smile on my face is unmistakable.
It’s not just an I-had-great-sex smile. It’s an I-just-had-amazing-sex-with-a-woman-I’ve-been-craving-for-weeks-now smile.
Or maybe even longer.
I always thought she was pretty back in college. Smart and feisty. She interested me…intrigued me, I guess. And I always hated the fact that she didn’t like me. That she didn’t want me.
I never pursued her. Why would I have? She hated my guts. But I do know that I would have had sex with her if she’d wanted to.
But, now, I have to allow myself to think, If we had gotten along in college, would things have been different? Would we have been together back then? Would we still have been together now?
And, if I’m being honest with myself, I think the answer is yes to all of it.
Being with Morgan is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
It’s like inhaling fresh air after a lifetime of breathing smog.
I don’t know what this means or what I want from her exactly. But I do know what I want at this moment in time, and it’s to be with her.
I just have to hope she feels the same.
I take the washcloth back into the bedroom with me. She’s sitting up against the headboard, the sheet wrapped around her.
Gotta say, I’m not liking seeing her covered up.
Reaching the bottom of the bed, I tug on the sheet, pulling it off her body.
“Much better,” I say.
She smiles.
I climb onto the bed, between her legs, and she parts them for me.
I press the cloth to her pussy, cleaning her.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says quietly.
“I want to.” I dip my head and brush a kiss to her lips. “Don’t go back to your room. Stay with me tonight,” I say.
She stares at me for a long moment, and then her eyes soften. “Okay,” she says. “But we have to be up early to catch our flight.”
I groan and climb off the bed. I toss the washcloth in the bathroom, grab my cell, set the alarm for ridiculous o’clock, and then switch off the lights.
Morgan moves down the bed, lying on her side. I climb on the bed beside her, bringing the sheet up to cover us. I pull her close, putting my arm around her. She rests her head on my chest.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” she says quietly.
“I can.”
“You can?” She lifts her head to look at me in the dark.
“Yeah.” I curl my hand around her cheek, brushing my thumb over her smooth skin. “Babe, the way I wan
ted you…it was inevitable that you’d succumb to my charm at some point.”
“Ass.” She chuckles, slapping me on the chest.
“Hey, enough with the hitting, Rocky Balboa.”
She bites her lip, her eyes closing. “I’m sorry…that I slapped you earlier.”
“Forget it.”
“No, I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Babe, I’m pretty sure I’ve deserved to be slapped on many occasions in my life. And, anyway, if you hadn’t slapped me, I wouldn’t have known you cared.”
Her eyes open. “Who says I care?”
“I do.”
“You could be wrong.”
“Am I?”
Her lips press together, and I know she’s not going to answer. Stubborn little thing that she is. So, I bring her mouth down to mine, stopping just short of a kiss.
“I care about you,” I whisper against her lips.
Her breathing hitches. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I care about you a fuck of a lot. And I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
I erase the distance between our mouths, and I kiss her for the hundredth time tonight, but somehow, each time feels like the first. But this kiss isn’t about sex. It’s about showing her what she means to me.
And I think I’m only now just starting to realize the actual extent and depth of my feelings for her.
I’m fucking crazy about her.
I break from her lips, and both of us are panting. Her forehead presses down to mine, her hand resting against my cheek.
“It’s the same for me, too, Wilder,” she whispers. “Everything you said…I feel the same.”
A pressure comes down on my chest, but it’s a good kind of pressure. The kind of pressure that I want to feel time and time again.
Morgan moves her head to my shoulder and hooks her leg over mine. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight to me.
And we fall asleep exactly like this.
Wrapped up in each other. Like we always should have been.
It’s Friday evening, and we’ve just landed back in O’Hare after close to a day of traveling.
FYI, best frigging flight I’ve ever taken. Screw joining the Mile High Club. Getting Morgan off with my hand under the blanket we were sharing while people were sleeping around us and then watching her have to bite her lip to keep quiet as she came, her eyes on mine—hottest thing ever.
I can’t get enough of her. I’m addicted.
When I was a kid, I went through this phase of being addicted to waffles. I had to eat them all the time—for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I’d eat them with all kinds of different toppings and side orders. But it was the waffle I wanted.
Drove my mom crazy.
Eventually, the addiction waned.
But I still have waffles all the time. Even now. Best food ever.
Morgan is my new waffle. I want her all day, every day, in any way I can have her. And I don’t ever see that ending.
We’ve just gotten our luggage. We have to use a cart, as, remember, Morgan doesn’t travel light.
We exit the airport, head over to the taxi stand, and grab a cab.
The driver loads our luggage in the trunk, and Morgan and I climb into the back of the car.
Then, I realize that this is it. The trip is over. We’ll go back to our respective apartments.
And I don’t know where we stand.
We haven’t talked about what this means, what’s going on between us.
We were too busy screwing each other’s brains out in the hotel and making out on the plane ride home to talk about the status of our relationship.
Are we in a relationship? Do I even want to be in a relationship?
I’ve never been in one before.
Don’t judge me. I’m rich and good-looking. Why would I have tied myself to one woman when I could have them all?
But, right now…I want to be tied to Morgan. Figuratively and literally.
“I had a really good time,” she says quietly beside me.
I turn my head to her. Taking her hand in mine, I lift it to my lips and press a kiss to it. “Me, too.”
The driver climbs in the cab. “Where to, folks?”
I stare at Morgan, my heart pounding in my chest. “Don’t go home,” I blurt. “Not yet. Come back to my place.”
Her eyes widen. “But…my luggage…”
“Bring it with you.” I turn in my seat to face her and take her face in my hands. “Stay the weekend. I just…I’m not ready…” I can’t seem to find the right words. All I know is that I’m not ready to let her go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
A soft smile touches her lips. “I’m not ready either,” she whispers.
And my chest expands with happiness. I feel like I’ve just won the lottery.
I have. I’ve won the woman lottery.
Without taking my eyes off her, I say to the driver, “East Grand Avenue and Lake Shore, please, buddy.”
Then, I press my lips to hers and kiss her because I have to. Because I can.
Because she’s mine.
The realization hits me like a freight truck.
Morgan is mine.
And she doesn’t even know it yet. But she is, and I have no intention of ever letting her go.
Not that I’m going to kidnap her and keep her in my apartment—although that could be a good option, if she doesn’t feel the same way. Kidding. Kind of.
But, for the first time in my life, I want something real. I want something with her.
I want a relationship with Morgan.
Shocker, I know.
Ladies and gentlemen, Wilder Cross no longer wants to be a hot bachelor.
I want to be a hot…I don’t know. What do you call a guy in a relationship?
Boyfriend.
I want to be Morgan’s hot, sexy-as-hell boyfriend.
And the thought doesn’t make me break out in hives.
Well, fuck me sideways.
The more I think about this relationship business, the more I see the benefits.
As in lots and lots of sex on tap.
Sex with Morgan. Which, of course, she’s fantastic at. She’s amazing at everything.
Only I don’t know where her head’s at with it all.
I know she likes me. And she likes my cock an awful lot. But a relationship? No clue.
I could just ask her, which would be the smart and sensible thing to do.
But what if she doesn’t feel the same?
What if all she wants from me is sex?
Well, shit. I didn’t think of that.
She could just want me for the spectacular orgasms I provide and nothing else.
She seems to like me now, but she wasn’t exactly my biggest fan in college. Deep down, she might still think I’m that same prick she thought I was in college.
I know I’m frigging awesome. But that doesn’t mean she does.
Trust me, people can fuck each other without actually liking each other. All you need is sexual attraction.
How do you think Kanye got laid before he became a Kardashian?
Well, actually, that probably had a lot to do with money. Which I have in the bucketloads.
But Morgan isn’t a gold digger—cue Kanye tune.
Seriously though, she’s worked her ass off for everything she has. And she was never one to screw around in college. I actually don’t remember her ever having a boyfriend. Thank fuck.
So, she has to like me, right? It can’t just be about sex.
Okay, so now, all I have to do is spend this weekend showing her that being in a relationship with me is the best idea ever.
And I can do that.
Easy.
“Wow. Your place is great. This view…” Morgan walks over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing her fingertips to the glass as she stares out at nighttime Chicago.
I drop our cases on the floor of my apartment and stretch out my back.
Jesus, her cases weigh a ton. I
wish I’d taken the doorman’s offer to help me.
My eyes focus in on her standing there, silhouette by the night, and all thoughts of heavy luggage are forgotten.
I walk toward her. My cock hardens, the closer I get to her.
Coming up behind her, I brush her hair over her shoulder and press a kiss to her neck.
“I like you here, in my apartment,” I tell her.
“I like being here.”
My hands drop to her hips as I trace my tongue up the skin of her neck until I reach her ear. I graze my teeth over her lobe.
She shivers.
“I want you, just like this,” I whisper.
My hands push her skirt up. I shove her panties aside and dip two fingers inside her.
“God, Wilder,” she moans. Her arm reaches back and curls around my neck as she turns her face to mine.
Her lips seek out mine. I part them with my tongue and plunge it into her mouth as I thrust my fingers deep inside her.
“I’m gonna fuck you right here,” I tell her.
“Won’t people…see?”
“Will you care if they do?” I’m slowly moving my fingers in and out of her, fucking her with them.
She stares into my eyes. “No,” she finally whispers.
“Good.” I brush my mouth over hers. “Now, put your palms flat against the window.”
She does as I asked without question. I like it.
No, I fucking love it.
Slipping my fingers out of her, I can’t resist giving her clit a teasing rub.
She moans loudly, her hips moving against my fingers, wanting more pressure.
But I pull my fingers away, and I tug her skirt and panties down to the floor.
She steps out of them. She’s just about to remove her heels when I stop her.
“Keep the heels on,” I growl.
She glances back at me, a sexy smile on her lips.
She’s standing there, naked from the waist down, and she’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I drop to my knees behind her and grab her ass in my hands.
I kiss her cheek, peppering kisses lower. When I get close to my new favorite place, she tries to pull away.
“Wilder, no, I haven’t showered in almost a day.”
I stare up at her. “You think I give a shit? I want you. And I’m going to have you.”
I spread her ass cheeks and dip my tongue inside her pussy.
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