Loving Wilder

by Leigh Tudor

  Her announcement went over him like nails raking down a chalkboard.

  “That’s not happening,” he said sternly. He wanted her with him all the time. And if he had to be away from her and the baby during working hours, then most definitely they would be together throughout the rest of a twenty-four-hour day. “And I’m not going to apologize for wanting to be with you. I don’t want to co-parent, I don’t want to explore shit, I want us to be together.”

  Her tight little bottom began to squirm on the chair as she licked her lips and bit down on the bottom one.

  And then it came to him like a lightning strike. Sweet Jesus. The woman was horny as hell.

  He knew she had quite the passionate side, but he usually had to work for it. Earn it. Tease it out.

  Right now? With the heat wafting off her skin, he theorized he could crook his finger and she’d be his beck and call girl for the night.

  But he couldn’t be sure. He was out of practice. And it had been a while since she’d shown him such, um, amorous intent.

  He considered the possibilities.

  Didn’t he hear some of the married men around town talk about how their wives wanted sex all the time when they were pregnant? And how they attributed their large families to that very phenomenon?

  Loren Ingalls was exhibiting all the traits of a woman who was randy, lustful, and extremely turned on.

  He needed to test his theory.

  “Loren,” he said with his best sexy glower, “I just have to say that you look beautiful tonight.”

  She blushed. Loren Ingalls, badass extraordinaire, actually blushed. And not just her face, but her entire body turned a rosy glow.

  She hesitated. “We’re not here for that, Alec. We’re here to discuss the baby.” Her voice was gruff, yet her nipples were traitorously pushing against her sweatshirt.

  “You’re absolutely right,” he said, feigning contrition. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I just wanted to let you know that I find you exceptionally lovely tonight.”

  “You… you do?”

  He nodded with lazy eyes as he rubbed on his bottom lip with his thumb, forcing her to focus exactly where he wanted her to. “Now, back to the baby.”

  But as soon as she was done watching his bottom lip get a massage instead of looking him in the eye to engage in conversation, she was eyeing his crotch.

  “Loren?” He rasped.

  “Uh…huh?” she said with a fair amount of distraction. Her gaze glued on the hard-on tunneling its way through his pants.

  “Is there something I can do for you?”

  She licked her lips again, and when his dick twitched in reaction, she made a strangled little noise.

  “Loren,” he rasped.

  Her eyes darted up, and her face beamed an even darker red. He wasn’t sure if that was from embarrassment or lust.

  He ran his hands up and down her thighs. “Is there anything I can do to help you to better concentrate on our conversation?” he tried again.

  “Maybe,” she rasped, clearing her throat. “Maybe I am a little… distracted.”

  In one swift move, he was on his feet with her in his arms. Hercules began to nervously pace in front of him, clearly unsure if this was a hostile event.

  Alec set her down on her feet, and as soon as he was assured she could stand on her own, he grabbed her by the hand and led her out of the porch and through the kitchen.

  Passing Jimbo, he said, “We’ll be right back. Could you watch our boy Hercules here for a while? Loren’s having problems with her carburetor idling too fast. I told her I’d take a look at it.”

  Loren was following him as if in a trance. He only hoped she wasn’t ogling his ass in front of Jimbo.

  “Sure you are.” He chuckled, eliminating any doubt.

  Loren did her best to keep up with Alec’s long strides, but stumbled when she considered shoving her hand down the back of his pants just to cop a quick feel.

  He made the long, arduous trek to her Volvo and yanked open the driver’s door when she pulled back on his hand.

  “I’m begging you, do not have second thoughts now.”

  “No, I mean, I don’t. It’s just that there’s more room in the back. It has the capacity of 15.8 cubic feet and will hold three adult-size bodies.”

  Who knew knowing the cubic capacity of her car would come in handy for less nefarious purposes?

  Alec stared at her, nodded, and then slammed the door, pulling her toward the back of the Volvo. “I’m not going to worry about why you know that particular level of detail until after we take care of a few things.”

  He opened the back hatch and she jumped inside and lowered the second- and third-row seats in record time. She turned to face him, panting, as he joined her, lowering the hatch behind him. Beads of sweat instantly dotted her skin. They faced one another on their knees, breathing hard from a mixture of exertion, anticipation and the summer heat.

  “I have to be honest with you,” she said with a serious face.

  “No, you don’t,” Alec said, shaking his head back and forth. “Please feel free to lie to me for as long as it takes for me to make you orgasm.”

  She shook her head. “No, I need to say this. There’s something very wrong with me. I am unbelievably… needy.”

  “I can see that. I’m here to assist.” He sat back and began to remove his boots.

  She shook her head again. “No, I mean, I want you in a very unnatural way.”

  Alec nodded enthusiastically. “It will be difficult but I can work with that.”

  “No, listen to me.” She twisted her fingers together. “I ache for you. My body is a messy molten cauldron of hot lava, and I can’t seem to do anything to stem the onslaught of… of hunger. It’s like torture, knowing how your skin feels and smells and tastes. But I can’t touch you. It’s… it’s humiliating.”

  He grabbed his T-shirt from behind his neck and pulled it off in one swipe. “It’s a dilemma, for sure, but I’m up to the challenge. Touch away.”

  Loren wasn’t sure whether to join the fray or continue providing her sexually incited public service announcement. Because now that her stomach was no longer committing mutiny, her libido was seriously out of control. She literally writhed in bed at night, dreaming about doing all kinds of dirty and decadent things to Alec. Touching him, using him.

  Consuming him.

  Alec yanked his zipper down, and she nearly passed out from seeing the path of pubic hair arrowing its way downward.

  This couldn’t be right.

  Sensing her conflicting emotions, he stopped and gently held her by the arms.

  “Baby,” he said, talking to her as if she were impaired. Which was totally the case. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  Loren felt her heart sink and her skin burn at his touch. How she wanted to bite his bottom lip. She shook her head. “This can’t be normal.”

  He scooted closer. “Listen to me, it’s totally normal for pregnant women to feel, I don’t know, really … sexual when they’re pregnant.”

  “It is?” she asked with a hopeful voice. Then her eyes narrowed. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better? And to get laid?”

  “I swear on Cara’s Bible that’s the truth. Here.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, which gave her a moment to explore his naked torso and bumpy abs. He punched in a few keys, grabbed her hands to pause her mauling, and showed her his screen.

  Loren started reading. “It says that the second trimester is like the honeymoon period of pregnancy.”

  “Keep reading.”

  “Women gain a whopping three pounds of blood during that time, most of it flowing to the lower half of their body, making them feel more in the mood.”

  “See there? What you’re feeling is normal. But more importantly, it should be addressed. By me. Only me.”

  “It doesn’t say that,” she challenged with a saucy smirk.

  He grabbed the phone and tossed it over his shoulde
r. “You’re going to have to follow directions if you want to be properly serviced, ma’am.”

  “Oh, Alec, are we going to role-play? I’ve read all about this.” she informed, sliding on his lap and gyrating on his erection, making him grind his teeth so as not to embarrass himself. “Can I be the innocent customer wearing high-cut booty shorts getting her oil changed?”

  “Baby,” he rasped, “you can be whoever you want to be. As long as you follow directions.”

  “Can we just have really rough sex first?” she asked, having second thoughts. “Get that outta the way and then role-play?”

  “Okay, so you know, calling the shots is the opposite of following directions.”

  “But I kinda have a long list of things I want to try,” she pouted.

  “Dear God, woman,” he huffed. “Fine. Where do you want me?”

  “Lean against the back of the front seat and hold on.”

  “That seems pretty specific,” he noted, sliding into position. “Have you been fantasizing about having sex with me in the back of your Volvo?”

  “Maybe,” she said, pulling his pants off and then his boxers, her face turning stern. “Sir, I’m unhappy with the work you’ve done to my luxury SUV. I think we have some unfinished business to conduct.”

  Alec grabbed the headrest behind him as her warm breath hit his cock. Next came her tongue and then her warm, wet mouth. Slowly, she began to move and bob, and then he inhaled sharply when her hand closed around the root, fisting him, pumping him as her mouth did fucking wonderful things to him.

  His eyes flew open when her ministrations stopped, and he heard her whisper, “Am I doing it right?”

  He chuckled, looking at her with blurry vision. “Fuck, yeah.”

  She smiled with satisfaction, and then her mouth was back on him, her tongue licking at the slit at the tip, where she caused more wetness to pool. He dared to open his eyes and nearly came when he captured the sight of Loren Ingalls bent over, her heart-shaped ass in the air, and her back bowed as she sucked the daylights out of him.

  There was no way she knew. Just couldn’t have any idea what she did to him. She owned his body, his soul. Everything in his life that mattered managed to connect and converge onto this petite warrior of a woman, who could take on a band of thugs while at the same time possessing the heart of an angel.

  Her lips slid down the sides of his shaft, now taking him to the back of her throat, working him in wet, earnest strokes. He repeatedly pulled at the luxury crafted leather behind him with each mindless stroke of her tongue.

  Jesus, he was going to tear the headrest off the seat.

  Holding back for as long as he could, he began to thrust, finding leverage on one knee and fisting her hair by her ransacked hair bun, using his grip to pace her strokes.

  And then she moaned. The vibration of her mouth made his balls pulse and throb with delicious pain. He began to move his bent leg to the rhythm of his fist in her hair, fucking her sweet mouth and feeling the tip pinging the back of her throat.

  She moaned again, and his eyes flew to the back of his head.

  “Baby,” he rasped, “I’m going to come. I don’t want to… oh fuck.”

  His lack of stamina was that of a teenage boy.

  The contrary woman only sucked him harder until he felt his spine tingle and his balls seize. He made another attempt to pull out, but this only made her suck with more fervor.

  And that was all it took to send him over the edge.

  His entire body tensed as the pleasure jolted him, trilling through him in electrical shock waves. He rocked into her mouth, her hair in a death grip, yet doing his best to exhibit some level of control. And she held on, milking him and sending him even further to that place where he loved and wanted only one woman.

  After the quaking stopped, he found himself disoriented, and breathing in shallow pants and experiencing orgasmic aftershocks, his body jerking and trembling. When he finally found equilibrium, he leaned against the headrest he feared he might have twisted and disabled, trying to keep from telling her how much he loved and adored her. And from begging her to move in with him so they could raise their baby together.

  No, if there was one thing he knew about Loren Ingalls, it was that she didn’t like to be rushed, coerced, or managed. This was too important for him to botch with machismo and mandates. He would have to put in the time and convince her that being with him, in a real relationship, was in her and the baby’s best interest.

  He finally opened his eyes and found her leaning toward him, a smug smile on her face.

  “Next, I want to switch places where you enter me from behind while I…”

  “Babe,” he interrupted, this time gently running his fingers through her hair now that the hair tie was missing, and placing his finger on her mouth. “First, I’m going to need some time to rest. And second, if we don’t make our way inside soon, Jimbo’s going to come out here looking for us and then kick my ass.”

  Twisting her mouth into a pout, she sat back on her knees. “How long does it take you to … rest?”

  “Usually, the amount of time it takes to eat a bowl of paella.”

  She kissed him on the mouth. “Well, let’s feed you then.”

  Chapter Nine

  “All the good music has already been written by people with wigs and stuff.” — Frank Zappa

  Mercy sat behind a fold-out table outside the front lawn of the church. After sitting through the late morning service, she volunteered to man the bake sale table to help pay for the new playground equipment planned for the next fiscal year.

  And then she commandeered Nate’s help, so he could do all the work and she could socialize.

  It was for a good cause, after all.

  Considering she had backtracked on her non-cursing regimen, she figured spending time doing good deeds at the church might be somewhat redeeming. And considering the dubious extracurricular activities of her miniature-sized partner in crime, it couldn’t hurt for him to throw in a good deed or two as well.

  You know, for his own soul’s sake.

  She kicked back in her chair with her feet on the corner of the table, soaking in the sunshine and exuding all kinds of selfless benevolence.

  Someone had to do it.

  And if manning a bake sale table and shooting the … excrement … with the townsfolk was what was needed, then so be it.

  Which reminded her, Cara had some things she needed to talk about. Unfortunately, the week had involved a series of missed opportunities to connect. And today, Mercy needed to spend the time to track her down and find out what was on her mind.

  But she had two more items left to sell.

  Hmm, Nate needed to work on his selling skills.

  “Why, my goodness, you’ve nearly sold out already.”

  Pulled from her philanthropic thoughts, Mercy glanced over the rims of her sunglasses to find Emmy Lou Roberts, the pastor’s wife, standing before her with a broad smile and wearing her Sunday best, a snug robin’s egg blue polyester dress with a high neck and low hemline.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Roberts,” Nate said with some pretty impressive charm for his tender age. “Might I recommend that for our next bake sale, we include some gluten-free options for those who are opposed to hardened arteries and visceral fat?”

  “Well, of course, young man. However, I believe the challenge will be finding someone who knows how to make gluten-free baked goods.”

  Nate nodded. “Fiscally, it would be worth the time and effort. The church could earn as high as a three hundred and twenty-three percent markup on healthier baked goods, which means we wouldn’t have to have as many bake sales and meet our financial goals in a far shorter amount of time as initially budgeted. And as a side benefit, we could collectively help to unclog the congregation’s arteries.”

  Emmy Lou considered those metrics. “Sounds like quite promising numbers, but mean very little if parents can’t get their children to eat the healthier baked goods.”
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  “Tell me about it.” Mercy grimaced. “I had to run down one of the Hester boys, who thought he could dine and dash with one of your apple crisps,” she said with smug satisfaction. “But his underdeveloped eight-year-old body was no match for these stems.”

  She pointed at her legs, which unfortunately brought attention to her skirt that was several inches shorter than Emmy Lou’s.

  “That must have been quite the churchyard scene,” Emmy Lou said with a high eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry, I managed to remain circumspect. You know, minimal inappropriate exposure while hurdling the boxwood hedges.”

  “Well, that is a relief, despite the unlikelihood.”

  Edgar Whalen ambled up to the table with his usual shy persona and rawboned physique. Mercy would never have put him and Sue Ellen Whalen together as a romantic couple, but hey, stranger things and all that.

  Edgar was gaunt and socially awkward, while Sue Ellen was built like a Mack truck and had the personality to match. Working at the feed store since graduating high school and hauling all those large bags of grain, grass seeds, and farm supplies had meant Sue Ellen had developed into quite the muscular woman.

  The opposite physique to that of her nerdy high school math teacher beau.

  “Hey, Edgar, how ya doing, buddy?” Mercy asked with a car salesman’s smile. “Can I interest you in one of Cora Maynard’s hummingbird cakes or Madame Garmond’s gâteau de mille-feuilles? Which I like to refer to as crack cake with a crap-ton of layers…”

  Edgar fidgeted. “Sue Ellen told me to buy whatever was left.”

  Mercy leaned toward Nate. “Watch and learn,” she whispered.

  Mercy gave Edgar one of her million-dollar smiles. “Well then, you’re in luck, my man. You can have both of these sugar-loaded confections for only fourteen dollars.”

  “But the sign says they’re five dollars each,” Edgar countered.

  “Always with the math,” Mercy quipped. “Fine, both of them for fifteen dollars.”

  “Shouldn’t I be getting a discount rather than a price increase for buying two cakes instead of one?”