Living Wilder

by Leigh Tudor

  “Mmm . . . so wet and wild.”

  “Oh, my, God,” she said holding onto his shoulders and doing her very best to climb his torso despite him keeping her firmly where he wanted her, moving her this way and that so that all her important pieces and parts were mindlessly rubbing against his.

  Lips and then teeth nipped at her collarbone as slick fingers plucked at her swollen clit as she tried in vain to perform a military crawl all over his body.

  “Alec,” she said breathlessly, not sure what she wanted to say or feel.

  “Loren,” he responded, and she blushed at how much she liked hearing him say her name.“Baby, what do you need?”

  Her jumbled mind landed on the endearment. Funny how ridiculous they sounded in the sex scenes she read, yet when Alec called her “baby” it was like she was someone special.

  Someone to be revered and protected.

  “Don’t stop,” she panted.

  “What do you want?”

  “More.”

  Before she could instruct him as to more of what, he made a sinuous path down her body, kissing and nipping along the way at her ribcage and over the front of her panties until he sat back on his haunches. Mortification set in as lidded indigo eyes never left hers as he worked the soaked blend of spandex and cotton down her legs.

  She blurted, “I’m . . . getting checked for that.”

  He halted all movement, holding her panties at knee-level and looking up at her. “Checked for what?”

  One hand held onto his shoulder, as the other waved over her private parts. “For whatever’s going on down there.”

  “Could you elaborate?”

  Oh, God no.

  She face-planted into her hands. Now he thought she had some sort of sexually transmitted disease.

  “It’s nothing. I mean, other than the preponderance of sweatiness, down below.” She said swishing her hands in the area of question. A beet-red flush heated her face.

  She watched him grin and mumble something unintelligible.

  He touched her calf, and at his non-verbal command, she stepped out of her panties. As soon as they hit the floor, he lifted her thigh until it was over one shoulder looking at her most private area until she was blushing from head to toe.

  “Are you talking about all of this?” His tongue lashed out as if he couldn’t hold back any longer and she thought she was going to pass out at the way her entire body hummed with electrical currents. Before catching her breath, his mouth was full on her.

  Licking.

  Sucking.

  Wet and filthy.

  Mercy had read about this in a couple of books. But Loren had doubted seriously that this level of intimacy would happen tonight, or ever. It seemed so personal and somewhat unsanitary. Like, it would take a year of first, second, and third bases before making this physical leap of faith with a man. Not to mention a long hot shower beforehand.

  Losing her grip, not to mention her mind, she clung to his shoulders, trying to maintain balance while writhing against his mouth.

  Mother, Mary, and Joseph. His teeth were now a part of the process. How much longer could she take this? And what degree of bodily harm would she exact if he were to stop?

  Tongue, then teeth. Both taking turns working her clit.

  As if having a mind of their own, her palms moved to touch her now sensitive nipples that were full and distended, as if impatiently awaiting his attention. Her fingers moved on to his unusually soft hair, and she wondered for a nano-second if he used a high-end conditioner.

  As if sensing her distraction he nipped at her swollen nub and growled.

  “Oh, God, Alec.”

  Her body seized as his mouth continued to work its magic.

  A wave of electrical charges pulsated through her body. She trembled and moaned at the feel of muscles enlarging and contracting, followed by an onslaught of aftershocks cascading through the rest of her body.

  Thankfully, he caught her as she crumpled to the floor, grateful for an area rug that she noticed for the first time since entering the room.

  Alec easily picked her up from the floor as if she were a throw pillow as opposed to a ridiculously toned woman gladiator, and slowly lowered her to the bed.

  His chest tightened as he gazed down at the perfectly sated woman who was smiling back at him.

  Chewing the inside of his lip, he focused on seeing her for the first time outside of her usual habitat: in his bed without her guard up or sporting a side of snark. Rather, she lay before him entangled in her own blond wisps of hair with her arms lying above her head on each side of the pillow. A rather vulnerable pose for a woman with a hair-trigger temper and deep sense of distrust.

  Despite her languid demeanor, he knew she withheld secrets from him and the rest of Wilder, but the more time he spent with this enigma of a woman-child-warrior, the less her secrets seemed to matter.

  He wasn’t deluding himself. He knew she was standing on some sort of figurative ledge, teetering along the precipice and in danger of losing her footing.

  But he was all in. And his job, moving forward, was to hold on tight and to be there to pick her up if and when she fell. Because he knew, without a moment’s hesitation, that this was so much more than an attempt to get her out of his system.

  Not even close.

  This feral nymph of a woman had robbed him of all reason and self-preservation. And he was both excited and terrified at the possible outcomes.

  Standing up, he pushed down his boxers, not taking his eyes off her.

  She lifted onto her elbows. “I hope this means we’re getting to the good part.” The glint in her eye betrayed her.

  He threw his boxers over his shoulder. “Not yet, you haven’t complimented me on the size of my cock.”

  He straddled her as she tilted her head as if to check out the goods. She shrugged one shoulder. “It’ll do.”

  He settled between her legs and leaned his head a breath from hers. “Do I need a condom?”

  “No,” she whispered, suddenly shy, and then added, “And I’m totally clean.”

  “Me, too. Got tested during the physical for the new job.”

  He lifted one of her hands, kissed the inside of her palm and placed it on his neck and plunged into her.

  She clenched his neck as she stifled her moans beside where Alec was sure she left nail marks. He gave her a minute to catch her breath and plunged again.

  She cried out.

  He slowly repeated the cycle of thrust, retreat, and then began to pick up the pace. Her legs wrapped around him as she moaned and licked his neck.

  He could feel her breath next to his ear as she spoke, “Isn’t this where you tell me how tight I am?”

  God, he was going to enjoy this woman.

  Without losing momentum, he moved both hands under her ass and pulled her up until they were facing one another, “I wouldn’t say tight. But then again, not necessarily cavernous. It’ll do.”

  He tried to contain a grin but was sure he failed.

  She bit his ear and then stiffened as it earned her several impaling thrusts. Not an easy feat as she was tight as fuck.

  Alec loved the way she clung to him, meeting his pace at the same time surrendering to him. Her muscles tightened more, contracting around him, before she began to chant, “Oh God . . . Alec . . . yes . . . yes . . . yes.”

  Giving her a moment, he held her upright aware of her sudden lack of energy, and then he continued to find his own ending.

  Finally, he groaned and then stilled after his final thrust. He felt physically depleted, emotionally exhausted and ready for round two.

  He gently lay her on her back, and grinned to himself at her earlier eye roll alongside the analogy of “like a delicate flower.” If Loren Ingalls was a delicate flower, it was of the Venus Mantrap variety.

  He lay beside her wondering what manic thoughts were worming their way through her stubborn brain.

  Food. It was his experience that sustenance could tame t
he wild beast in his little sister. After a long day of Ally tackling middle school, to distract her from fixating on the drama du jour, he’d throw a bag of Cheetos at her.

  She hadn’t eaten yet.

  On a mission, he jumped up, pulled on his boxers and made his way downstairs. Grabbing some plates and silverware, he grabbed the bags of Styrofoam containers and took the staircase back to his bedroom two steps at a time.

  At first, he smiled wide at seeing two gorgeous globes bending over in front of him and thought of what positions he was going to put her in come round two. And just as quickly he frowned, when she began pulling on her panties with a grimace and then her dress.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, holding the bags up in one hand, the dinnerware in the other. “I thought we could have a picnic in bed?”

  God damnit, he was trying to be helpful, maybe even a little bit romantic, and here she was in escape mode again.

  He bitched at himself for leaving her alone, even if was for like two whole minutes.

  “Thanks for everything tonight.” She was looking for her boots. “Gotta get home.”

  “Would you please let me feed you?” He put the items on the bed and grabbed her by the forearms, sure to let her see his intent before putting his hands on her. A reactive punch to his junk would impair his plans for the rest of the evening.

  He bent down to make her look him in the eye. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

  “Nothing.” She looked to the right, avoiding him. “I’m sure you have things to do. Just like I do.”

  She pulled away and hopped on one foot and then the other to put on her boots. “Thanks for dinner, even though we didn’t get around to it. And thanks for the sex.”

  Alec turned his head in confusion. “The sex?”

  And then she did the most unexpected thing he could imagine, after having the hottest sex of his life. She jutted out her arm. “Yes, thanks for everything. I had a great time.”

  His head reared back.

  Was she seriously looking to shake his hand as if he helped her with a faulty wiring system or a plumbing problem?

  What the fuck?

  He glared, refusing to accommodate her. She choked out a nervous chuckle, and retracted her hand, wiping her palm on her skirt.

  “I guess I’ll see you later.” She skirted around him. “You know, small town and such.”

  Before he could demand that she remove her clothes and get back in the bed so he could spoon-feed her, she was through the doorway and running down the stairs.

  The front door slammed shut, and he wondered if she even took the time to put on her coat. He marched to the window just in time to catch her sprinting to her car wearing nothing more than her thin cotton dress, red embroidered cowboy boots, wet underwear and a strand of pearls.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Where there is matter, there is geometry.”

  —Johannes Kepler

  German astronomer, mathematician,

  and astrologer, best known for his laws of planetary motion

  * * *

  Driving home, Loren couldn’t help but grin wide and shake her head in complete disbelief at what had just occurred.

  She had sex.

  SHE HAD SEX WITH ALEC WILDER.

  And it was glorious.

  Her limbs felt like goo as she wiggled in her seat with unrestrained delight.

  Alec Wilder was everything and more than she had ever imagined and God knew she had amassed thousands of dirty thoughts as it pertained to sex with her grumpy neighbor.

  Sex with Alec easily made the top of her Best-Things-EVER list.

  It was better than hacking into a highly secure government site after months of poking until finally discovering that elusive way in.

  It was better than the ultimate thrill when swapping a piece of art valued at multimillions of dollars for one of Mercy’s dupes, while the owner was Still. In. The. Room.

  Sex with her neighbor ranked right up there with the anticipation of having their first Thanksgiving dinner as a family outside of the Center, without the ever-present security cameras monitoring their every move and conversation.

  Sex with Alec Wilder was better than Pi.

  And, oh, how she loved Pi.

  The simple calculation was everything. Encompassed everything.

  Pi was life.

  But sex with Alec Wilder was living.

  She brought her hand to her chest, the other remaining on the steering wheel, contemplating how nice it would be if it could be more.

  What would it be like to have many nights lying in his ridiculously strong arms exchanging inappropriate banter and discovering one another’s nooks and crannies?

  Not just the physical ones, but also those hidden and cradled in their souls. Deeply protected, hard-won secrets that no one else knew, discovered bit by bit.

  Day by day.

  Night by night.

  Shaking her head, she smiled sadly to herself. She was in no position to be greedy. She wouldn’t allow it. By God, she was going to be grateful that her first time, or at the least the first time she was a willing participant, was with Alec Wilder.

  Life was too short and unpredictable to hold out for fairy tales.

  And Mercy was right. She was far too old to imagine herself as her beloved Laura Ingalls, with parents that loved unconditionally, sisters that shared their every secret and a life-altering romance with her next-door neighbor, who lived with his sister.

  Nah. She’d trade the fairy tale for the dirty one-night stand and run with it.

  Because as she saw it, she could either spend her time being sad for what tonight wasn’t, or she could choose to be blissfully happy for what it was.

  A wonderful night of sex with a dreamy man.

  On her terms, and in complete control.

  Never again would she allow herself to be placed in a position for it to be otherwise.

  Findling, Utah

  Halstead Labs and Research Center

  Seven Years Ago

  * * *

  Crying didn’t help. Yelling was a useless endeavor. Despite this knowledge, Ava’s throat was raw and her face perpetually damp, as she was physically unable to wipe her tears due to the straps holding her arms immobile.

  After days of hearing excuses as to why she couldn’t see her sisters, responses from the staff had morphed from denials of any knowledge of their whereabouts to outright avoidance.

  Desperate for answers, Ava went into a frenzy, screaming and ranting and pounding on doors. She would do whatever it took to get Halstead’s attention, because she knew that he alone held the answers to her questions.

  Her efforts landed her in solitary confinement. She’d lost count of how many days she’d spent in the padded room. Four, maybe five? She couldn’t be sure as she’d also been tranq’d by a gigantic orderly named Milo who acted more a mute prison guard than a medical assistant.

  Apparently, Halstead had grown tired of complaints from Bancroft and the staff. Complaints of delusional episodes resulting in her pounding on restricted doorways and numerous attempts to destroy biometric devices with hair brushes and forks left on untouched dinner trays. All the while insisting on seeing her sisters.

  The staff was beside themselves.

  Dr. Halstead assured them that her behavior was a result of manic paranoia recently diagnosed by the doctor himself.

  Banging on yet another door she was unable to enter, she had turned to see Bancroft entering the hallway with the creepy orderly the size of a cattle barn lumbering close behind.

  Before she could think to move within range of a security camera, Dr. Bancroft allowed the orderly to pass by him, giving him plenty of room to grab her by the back of the shirt and around her thigh and slam her onto the cold floor.

  Blindsided first by the shock and then the pain of unnecessary force, she struggled for air as she attempted to pull herself up. Making it to her knees, she watched blood hit the floor below h
er and swiped at her nose. She was bleeding.

  Again, before she could gather herself, the orderly picked her up by one arm and dragged her down another hallway with Bancroft now leading the way, pressing his finger on the door’s device and allowing the orderly to force her into a room she had never seen before.

  Basically, a padded cell.

  Bancroft stood in the corner with his iPad at the ready, as the orderly grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head. Her arms instinctively covered herself as she hadn’t taken the time to put on a bra in her quest to find her sisters this morning.

  At seventeen, and virtually isolated from society for three years, no one had seen her body since she began to develop. Her mortification was only further heightened as the orderly pushed her sweats down her legs, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the floor still holding her breasts. Now naked, one hand doing its best to cover her breasts, the other her pubic area, her arms were wrenched free as the orderly shoved them into an open-back tear-proof smock, forcing them through the arms of a straitjacket. She winced as he relentlessly yanked at the bindings in the back, making her shoulders feel as though they were being pulled from their sockets.

  She didn’t bother to struggle, her focus bent on finding her breath and remaining lucid. Besides, based on the size of the orderly manhandling her, her efforts would be futile. No, the best strategy was to be still and continue to breathe.

  After rendering her under control by the bindings, the orderly stood behind her, his arms pinning her to his chest, his tree-trunk legs wrapped around hers, leaving her defenseless. Dr. Bancroft finally lifted his head from his iPad and pulled a syringe from his pocket.

  Ava awoke hours later on the cold, tiled floor with a canvas-covered throw pillow and some sort of thin aluminized thermal blanket that served no purpose at all in light of her body shaking from the frigid temperatures of the room.

  Slowly pulling herself into a sitting position, a difficult process without the use of one’s arms, she analyzed her surroundings.