So Wild

by Eve Dangerfield

  Her almost-lover lowered his gaze. “You can’t say it, can you?”

  The hurt in his voice tugged at her insides, but it didn’t matter. She still couldn’t say it. “Sorry, Galahad. Maybe I’m just not the trusting kind?”

  Scott ran a hand through his thick hair, making it stand on end. “I don’t believe you, but that’s fine. There’ll be no sex tonight.”

  “Whoa, I wouldn’t go that far! What about—”

  But her proposed work-arounds never had a chance to surface. Scott climbed on top of her, kissing her deeply as his fingers sought her nipples and tugged hard. She arched her back, trying to coax Scott’s cock to press harder against her pussy, but he pulled away. “You won’t get me like that, Samantha. I won’t make love to you until you can say you trust me.”

  “Then let me go!” she demanded, knowing she was being petty but unable to contain her frustration. “Get out of here!”

  “Not until I’m done.” Scott’s slid two fingers inside her, his pinky slipping down to toy with her ass. Sam gasped. She’d been so distracted by his impromptu trust-exercise that she’d forgotten how close to orgasm she was. As his hand moved faster, his thumb brushing over her clit, she pressed against him, enjoying the sensation of being bound and pleasured. “Scott, fuck me? Please?”

  “Not now. I want you to come like this.”

  “But sex?” Sam said, struggling weakly against his hold. “Please?”

  “Not this time, Samantha. But there’s plenty of other things we can do. Matter of fact…” Scott got up and, to her surprise, pulled open her bedside drawer. He rummaged through it, shoving aside panties and odd socks. Sam watched, too surprised to say anything before he pulled out her dildo and held it to the candlelight. “Pink. And big.”

  He didn’t seem at all daunted by that fact—if anything, he looked amused. Sam’s face burned. “Put that back!”

  “No, I don’t think I will. You wanted sex, I’ll give you sex.” Scott knelt between her legs and held her toy inches from her mouth. “Get it wet for me, Samantha.”

  A sharp pang of arousal turned her abdomen to stone. In that moment she wanted to be drunk, she wanted to be numbed so the sight of Scott Sanderson holding her dildo to her lips wasn’t so fucking surreal. She’d never believed you could be too aroused or too attracted to someone, but this was exactly that. She didn’t want everything to be so stupidly in focus. If she had to stay in it for much longer, she’d explode.

  “Samantha,” Scott said, his voice low and calm. “I know you want to.”

  She shook her head.

  “You do. Your cheeks are flushed, your lips are swollen and your nipples are hard. You’re turned on by the idea but it’s embarrassing and maybe a little humiliating, but that’s okay. It’s just the two of us here.” He brushed the head of the toy over her lips, a touch of cool silicone. “Now, Mr Pink wants you to make him feel good and so do I, so just open your mouth and suck.”

  A clear path seemed to open in Sam’s mind, a way to see through the fog of all-too-realness. Feeling hypnotized, she opened her mouth, and when she sucked the ridged toy it still felt insanely, stupidly surreal. She sucked slow and steady, her eyes on him. She willed him to feel the pull of her lips on his own cock, even though he’d tucked it back behind his tracksuit pants.

  At first Scott’s face was impassive, but he couldn’t maintain his disinterest for long. After a couple of pulls he withdrew the toy from her mouth, running the head of the fake-cock between her legs. “Do you think that if I hadn’t come to your window tonight, Mr Pink would have gotten a workout?”

  “No,” Sam lied.

  “I disagree. I think you would have fucked yourself, but you wouldn’t have been able to do it as good as I can.”

  “I—”

  Scott pressed a gentle hand to her mouth. “That’s enough, Samantha, you’re going to take it now. I’m going to make you come.”

  The head of her dildo found her pussy, sinking inside with exquisite slowness. Sam closed her eyes, squeezing herself tight over the ridges, remembering how she’d wet the toy with her tongue. She whimpered, so hot and so close it was ridiculous.

  “Good girl,” Scott crooned, pulsing the toy deep inside her. “That’s a very good girl. When I first climbed in your window, I didn’t know if I’d find anyone to play with but I’m glad you were here. I’m glad I’m going to watch you come.”

  She moaned, the enormity of the toy and the filthiness of the entire scene filling her mind like oxygen. She let go of her and Scott’s shared history, of names and identities. He was just a handsome stranger who’d watched her, who’d seen she was alone and climbed in through her window and tied her up. He was a bad man, and he wasn’t going to stop until he got whatever he wanted from her. Sam pumped herself against the toy inside her and that was all the encouragement Scott needed. He worked the dildo faster, so that the ridges massaged her inner walls, the base rubbing up against her clit. Pleasure rippled through her in hot, welcome waves, she splayed her legs wider needing more, more, more.

  “That’s it,” Scott said, pressing his spare hand flat on her stomach as he pumped the toy hard and fast—he was right. This was better than she could do it to herself, it was better than everything.

  “I’m so close,” she moaned, terrified he would stop or her bonds would dissolve or something would go wrong.

  Scott pressed harder against her stomach, his touch firm and reassuring. “I know you’re close, you filthy little girl, now come.”

  The sharpness of his voice nearly took her breath away, but it worked. She came almost instantly, screaming into the night air. The pleasure was ruthless, shredding through her like a stone blade and she felt herself gush around the toy. Scott kept pumping and instead of fading, the sensations plateaued. She humped the toy working hard for her second climax.

  “I don’t think so,” Scott said. He let go of the toy and began loosening the stockings knots from her wrists.

  Sam was instantly, incredibly angry. “Hey asshole, I wanted to—”

  “Too bad.” Scott grabbed her tingling right hand and wrapped it around the base of the toy. “You’re going to take it from here.”

  “What—”

  He grabbed her other hand and, shoving down his tracksuit pants, wrapped it around the base of his warm, throbbing cock. “I said this time would be all about me. I intend to keep my promise. You’re going to work that inside yourself while you get me off.”

  Still dizzy from her orgasm and insanely frustrated, Sam tried a token protest. “I don’t want to—”

  Scott covered her hand with his own, thrusting the dildo inside her.

  “Oh my god,” Sam moaned and as she did, Scott let go of the dildo, threading his fingers through her hair and bringing the head of his cock to her lips. Sam’s response was automatic—she sucked him deep.

  Scott grunted his pleasure. “That’s good, baby, but don’t neglect your pussy. Fuck yourself while you suck me off.”

  But she already was, her own hand continuing the work he’d left behind. It didn’t feel as good, not as deep or intense but it didn’t matter, she was so fucking turned on.

  “That’s it,” Scott muttered. “Fuck yourself and pretend it’s me. Better yet, pretend there’s two of me.”

  Sam moaned around him.

  “Yeah, you like that idea, don’t you?” Scott crooned, gathering her hair into a ponytail in his fist. “You look so pretty getting done at both ends, Sammy. Now suck me harder. Make me happy.”

  She pushed the toy inside herself, her back taught, her nipples aching. She was so worked up, she was so close…

  Scott fisted her hair tight. “You coming?”

  She pulled him out of her mouth long enough to say, “Yes. Scott, can you please call me names?”

  For a second he smiled, the neat, handsome man from the French restaurant, then his face went dark and his wet cock shoved itself back into her mouth. “You filthy little slut, you love taking my cock. You�
�ve been dying for it. This is how it should have been last night, you pleasing me like this, pleasing both of us like this.”

  Sam shoved the now-hot handle of the toy back and forth, sweat slicking her skin, Scott’s cock throbbing between her lips. She said his name, the sound garbling on his cock.

  Scott’s grip on her hair grew tighter. “Fucking take me, you whore. Just take me.”

  His voice, the insufferably posh way he said ‘whore’ did it for her. She let her orgasm rush over her, flipping her head and filling her with throbbing heat—filthy, filthy, perfect.

  “Samantha,” Scott moaned, his dick swelling between her jaws. “I’m gonna fucking finish.”

  She sucked harder, needing to get him to the place he’d brought her to—twice. She didn’t have long to wait. He gave a strangled moan and climaxed, his hand loosening from her hair. Sam swallowed him, tasting salt and man.

  Sober sex is great. Why doesn’t everyone have sober sex?

  As Scott moved away from her, swabbing himself with some tissues she kept in a box by the bed, Sam pulled the toy from herself and placed it on the bedside table. She couldn’t help smiling. Some people said sex was only for reproduction but how was that possible when she wanted to do so many things that didn’t have the slightest chance of getting her pregnant?

  Conscious of Scott’s gaze on her, she felt the cold of not-knowing wash over her. She was about to get up and clean her dildo when he climbed back onto the bed and touched her waist. “Stay. Just a moment, please?”

  Sam stayed, though she wanted nothing but to leave. She’d slept with Scott Sanderson. No, worse than that, she’d used her private sex toys on herself while blowing Scott Sanderson after he’d climbed in through her bedroom window. She turned and half-buried her face in her pillow, embarrassed by what they’d just done.

  “Samantha? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, fine,” she lied. “That was some good, distrustful almost-sex, Galahad.”

  She could practically feel a space opening up between them, separating their bodies with close to two decades of baggage.

  “It could have been different, you know that.”

  “I know,” Sam told the pillow. “I don’t know why I couldn’t just say the stupid words.”

  There was a short pause. “I was hoping you wouldn’t just say the words, Samantha. I was hoping you’d mean them. But that was bloody naive of me, wasn’t it?”

  Sam opened her mouth, but that same force from earlier stopped her. She felt Scott get up and she rolled onto her side to watch him pick up his clothes. She observed his beauty abstractly; as though he were a tattoo she’d just layered into someone else’s skin. She raised her hand, looking at the daisy tattoo her father and sisters shared. Blood and ink. How did anyone trust anyone who didn’t share blood and ink?

  Scott pulled his hoodie over her head and upon catching sight of her face, his expression softened. “Are you okay?”

  Sam put down her wrist, feeling prickly and lonely and childish. “Yeah. I mean, no. Look, I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to fuck with your head, but this is so big. It’s too much and…”

  She broke off, unable to keep spilling her guts in front of this stupidly beautiful, stupidly capable man who only wanted her to be the functional human she had no idea how to be.

  Scott moved back toward the bed, kneeling down so their eyes were level. “Hey, it’s not over, Sammy. You’re allowed to not be ready. You don’t have to say things you don’t mean, just yet. I’m sorry for being snippy, I just wish I knew what was going on in your head.”

  “Me too,” she said. “You were right, about the games, about needing to play. I need to play but I also need space and I don’t know how to feel safe around you, Scott. I don’t know how to make a future between us work. I don’t even know what it looks—”

  There was a loud bang downstairs and they both jumped.

  “Hello sisterrrrrrr!” Tabby called out. “I’m home before three, are you proud of meeee?”

  “Shit,” Sam said. “She’ll be up here in a minute, you have to go.”

  Scott didn’t need to be told twice. He backed away, picking up his t-shirt and tugging it over his head, making all his beautiful muscles flex.

  “Will we ever have sex?” she asked.

  He looked at her, his expression calm but grave. “I don’t know. Do you think you’ll ever be able to trust me?”

  Sam licked her lips. It was a big ask, but not an unreasonable one. She prodded herself, wondering what she would need to know in order to trust Scott Sanderson. A question popped into her brain and she blurted it out. “Where were you the day Nicole’s pictures were stolen?”

  Scott blinked. “You mean when I told the cops I was at the shopping center?”

  “Yeah.”

  He hesitated, and Sam was sure he wasn’t going to tell her, but then the corners of his mouth turned down. “I was…at my mother’s grave crying my eyes out.”

  His words struck her like a punch to the gut, not just because the image was heartbreaking but because it made the spaces between them show as stark as bones on an x-ray. The spaces she had no ability to close. And yet she still couldn’t say she trusted him, because she didn’t. She trusted her sisters and her dad. Three was enough. Three had always been enough.

  “Okay,” Sam said, because she didn’t know what else to say. “Are you going?”

  “I am. I won’t be coming to see you again and I won’t pester you with calls or letters. If you want to see me you know where I am, but if you do, come and see me…”

  “Yes?”

  Scott’s jaw tightened. “It should be because you’ve decided you can trust me. Until you trust me, there’s nowhere we can go together that isn’t ugly and you don’t deserve ugly, Samantha.”

  I do, Sam thought, but before she could say it he’d opened her window and slung himself into the night.

  Chapter 16

  ‘Until you trust me, there’s nowhere we can go together that isn’t ugly.’

  Sam sighed aloud at the memory of his eyes boring into hers like black holes. He’d been boy and man at once, asking her for something no one had ever asked because no one had a chance of getting it. She trusted her sisters and she trusted her dad and three was enough. It had always been enough. Three was a magical number. Four was too many. Besides, what she and Scott felt was just lust and nostalgia, just infatuation. It faded and left you with an aching heart and a mouthful of ashes—

  “Sam, what do you think of the new storage system?”

  She looked up to see Nicole and the rest of the Silver Daughters Ink team gaping at her. Shit. They were having a breakfast meeting and in spite of the seven cups of coffee she’d drunk, her concentration was flagging. Time to be generic as fuck.

  “Yeah, it’s uh, good. Top work.”

  “Top work?” Nicole repeated.

  “Yeah, your work…it’s tops.”

  Tabby and Gil sniggered and even Noah looked up from his pancakes to give her a ‘get your shit together, man’ glance.

  It was the morning and she and the rest of The Silver Daughters Ink team, plus Nicole and Tabby had come upstairs for a breakfast meeting. Nicole had cooked so the table was groaning under platters of fresh fruit, yogurt, bacon and scrambled eggs. Sam was trying to be grateful and eat as much as possible but her stomach was tight and her appetite was negligent.

  “I’m sorry,” she told her twin. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  Nicole gave her a look that said they’d be discussing this later.

  “Okay,” she said to the rest of the table. “The next item on our agenda is…” She looked down at her tablet. “Fadeout Festival. Sam, have you heard anything about your ballot entry? The results were meant to be up yesterday. Do you know if you’ve made it into the next round?”

  Sam’s stomach curled up tighter than an echidna. “Nah, there’s nothing up yet. I’ll check again as soon as we’re done here.”

  “Good,�
� Nicole said, making a note on her tablet. “Now, let’s talk about the storage room. Someone keeps mislabelling the inks when the orders come in—”

  “Here’s an idea,” Gil interrupted. “Why don’t we talk about the heritage thingy? You know, that you had? We won’t need to worry about where the inks are going if this place is a museum, thanks to your old neighbors.”

  Sam’s tiny peach-pit of a stomach flipped over. “How do you know about the Sandersons?”

  “Tabby told me about the blonde one coming in to see you,” Gil shot back. “I want to know what the fuck’s going on. Why do these people want to buy the building—”

  “The heritage application is no longer a problem,” Nicole said smoothly. “That’s all you need to know. Anyway, the next topic on the agenda is the website.”

  Gill scowled. “Hang on—ow!”

  He threw a dirty look at Noah, who piled more pancakes onto his own plate. “What were you saying?” he asked Nicole in his gravely, barely-used voice.

  “Um…” Her twin glanced down at her tablet and though her hair swung in front of her face, Sam could see she was blushing.

  “The website,” she said loudly, lifting her chin. “Tabby, how’s the upgrade coming along?”

  “Pretty good,” Tabby said through a mouthful of bacon. “I’ve finished updating it. Has everyone here seen it?”

  “Hang on, I’ll pull it up so we can all look.” Nicole tapped into her tablet and then held it up. “Nice, isn’t it?”

  Nice didn’t begin to cover it. What had once been an embarrassment of AOL email address proportions, was now a sleek, functional website. The palette was monochrome and it featured glossy artist profiles, a timetable, price guides and a slideshow of the tattooist’s best work. As Scott Sanderson could attest, Sam was no stranger to building websites, but she could never have pulled off what Tabby had accomplished. The page didn’t just look professional, it looked expensive-professional.

  Nicole beamed. “Oh, Tabs, it’s so good.”

  “Decent,” Noah agreed, which from him was basically a handjob.