Wild Card

by Karina Halle

  “Oh, my raven girl,” I murmur, running my thumb over her breast as she arches back, her body begging for more. “I might lose my mind if I can’t get inside you right now.”

  She smiles coyly. “I had a very long drive to plan exactly what I was going to do with you.”

  I cock my brow at that. “I’d hate to borrow a line from Uncle Jesse, but…have mercy.”

  I know that she’s putting up a front, that she’s taking on the sex kitten role because she doesn’t want things to get real, because there are so many variables and she holds so many answers I may not want to hear. But god, I want her. I want her so bad, I’ll let her do anything, be anyone.

  “Mercy for the merciless,” she whispers against me.

  I shiver, though so much heat is pumping through me. “Fucking hell. Get on the bed. Take off your damn clothes before I take them off for you.”

  “Oh no,” she says, putting her hand on my chest and pushing me back. “You get on the bed. Take your cock out.”

  I grin at her. “What?”

  “You heard me,” she says, pushing me flat on my back. “Take that gorgeous cock out or I’ll take it out for you.”

  “Is this a trick question?” I ask but I sit down and start undoing my belt buckle.

  She stands in front of me and watches as I remove the belt with one quick snap. Then unzip my jeans, slowly taking my cock out of my briefs. She runs her nails over the hard planes of my stomach, my abs tensing from the abrasion, before she drops to her knees.

  My cock juts straight up and I lean back on my elbow, not wanting to miss this view while my other hand sinks into her dark hair, wrapping the silky strands around my fingers.

  She takes my length in her hand, and my blood pulses against her palm. The feeling is nearly too much to bear. Her mouth opens, those sweet lips sliding over the tip, pushing me into a flurry of lust that sends my eyes back into my skull. Fuck she’s good, better than I remembered, imagined, dreamed, sliding her tongue over the veins, over every hardened ridge, like she can’t get enough of me.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, eyes pinched shut, pulling on her hair. “Don’t fucking stop, Rachel, don’t stop.”

  She pulls her mouth off, a wet sucking sound, and I think for a terrible moment that she is stopping, and every part of me tenses in frustration. Then her hand comes down over my cock, sliding like silk, pulling back to the base until I think my head might explode. I jerk my hips up, craving release.

  But she has more planned. She tugs down at my jeans and I lift up my hips so she can pull down my briefs. She lowers her head and slowly, gently takes my balls into her mouth, while stroking me off with her hand.

  Good lord.

  Even though we lost our virginity to each other, even though we experimented a lot when we were young, our sex drives have changed dramatically. Rachel used to approach sex with understandable apprehension, always shy and self-conscious. We made it about trust, we made it about love and it should always be about those things but damn. Now, she’s approaching sex with pure lust and desire. She knows what makes her come, knows what she wants and, more than that, knows what I want.

  She’s a fucking genius at giving head.

  I don’t want to come in her mouth though, not right now. I lift my head, trying to speak. My throat is so dry, my thoughts scrambled. Everything is being redirected to primal instinct, the drive to come and come as hard as I can, and it doesn’t help that I have this shadowy view of her head between my legs, tongue and lips sucking my thin skin until I don’t know where I am.

  “I want to be inside you,” I manage to say, my tongue feeling heavy.

  She shakes her head, the vibrations driving me mad. I grip her hair tighter. I want her to stop and I don’t at the same time, but she’s the one in control.

  “Please, I need it,” I say, before I moan as another wave of pleasure robs me of speech.

  She just pumps her fist harder, and I know I’m a goner if I don’t do something.

  “Rachel,” I tell her gruffly, tugging on her hair until my cock falls away from her open mouth and she stares at me with hooded eyes. “Get fucking naked right now or else.”

  Quickly, before I lose it, my body hair-trigger sensitive, I pull her down toward me, ripping off her dress while she undoes her bra, slips out of her panties.

  She grabs my shoulders and climbs on me, straddling my waist. With one firm grip at my cock and the other at her hip, I slowly lower her on top of me, pushing my cock up and inside.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, forcing myself to open my eyes and watch her expression when all I want to do is close my eyes and drown in this feeling.

  So.

  Fucking.

  Good.

  I tell her this.

  I tell her how wet she is, how tight.

  I tell her how much I’ve needed her, how hard I need to fuck her.

  I won’t be able to get her out of my system but I don’t fucking care.

  She starts riding me, her tits bouncing and god, I want to take them in my mouth.

  And just like before, my own release is sneaking up on me.

  Before I can get as carried away like I did when we were teenagers, I pull back and kiss and suck my way down her body. From her shoulder, across to the soft hollow of her throat, down between her breasts, my hand cupping them perfectly, one at a time. I love teasing around her nipples, love how she always arches her back, pushing her breasts up, so ravenous for my lips, for my touch. I like to prolong it as long as possible, doing long, circular laps with my tongue and then blowing lightly. I watch her skin erupt in shivers, her nipple becoming harder, darker, and it’s torture not to put it between my teeth and give it a sharp tug.

  “Oh god,” she cries out, her hands running through my hair and pulling on the ends as she slides up and down my shaft.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  She grabs my head and places my lips on her nipple. “There. Make it hurt.”

  I smile at her command and do as she says, nipping the hardened end and giving it a long, hard suck into my mouth. She yelps, then settles into a low, throaty groan, her vibrations rattling me to my very bones. The rigid ache of my cock is almost unbearable now, it’s all I can think about.

  With borderline desperation, I quickly lift her off my cock and throw her back on the bed, then prowl over her like a beast, parting her legs. My fingers slide against her cleft, so hot and slick. I grab the base of my dick and straighten up, gripping her hips, pulling her toward me. Sitting back on my knees, I thrust into her, her legs spread wide.

  She cries out, her eyes widening, but I can’t help it. She started it and there’s no time to do this gently. There is a fire raging inside me and she’s the only one who can put it out.

  I take a firm grip of her thighs, my hands sinking into her soft, smooth flesh, and hold her legs back while I pull out then push myself in again. She’s watching my cock slide in and out of her, and I’m watching too, crazed by the raw, primal sight of our bodies giving each other pleasure and how we fit so perfectly. We’ve always fit, since the very start.

  Fuck, I hope we always will.

  It’s that desperation, that longing, that need, not just for her body but her big red heart that’s driving all of this.

  “Please don’t stop,” she says. Her voice is raspy, quiet, and so disarmingly beautiful when I’m turning her on. I remember the first time we had sex, the way she looked as she came, and I knew I wanted this until my dying day, just this endless give and take, this exquisite pleasure I get from seeing her features soften, her body respond to me on a pure, primal, instinctual level. It’s a vessel continuously being filled, though never empty, not so long as I’m with her.

  “Hold on,” I whisper to her, briefly pulling out and putting my hand beneath her left cheek, rolling her until she’s on her side. I grab her leg and with my grip on her thigh, I slowly push myself in and out of her, sliding in even deeper than before.

  Fuck.

  Fuc
k.

  Fuck.

  I’m hitting a sweet spot, and her mouth is falling open while her eyes pinch closed. She’s soft and as my thrusts become harder, I’m reveling in the look of her beneath me, her dark hair spilling around her. She’s mine, for now, she’s mine.

  I slip my hand down to her clit, so swollen, pink, and wet, and begging for my touch. Her body tenses and she lets out a shaking breath as I rub my finger around in taunting, teasing circles, light as air.

  She begins to jerk into me, wanting more pressure, wanting so badly to come.

  I can tell she’s close to coming. Her body is shaking with strain, her breaths short and quick, her muscles taut. Her hands grasp the sheets so hard I think they might freeze like that.

  I work my fingers into a frenzy and her muffled moans get louder and louder while I slam into her harder and harder. Her back is arched, nipples pink peaks, and I know she’s close.

  “Fuck!” she cries out. “Oh, Shane.”

  Because I’m starting to pound into her so hard, shaking the bed, shaking her breasts, I can’t tell if she’s coming or not, but then I feel her clench around me, pulsing, and I know she’s there, lost in the spiral.

  I take in a deep breath and let out a low, guttural cry as my coiled muscles let loose and the orgasm rips down my spine, shooting out through every nerve ending. I’m fucking her so hard I think I’m going to push the bed right through the wall, right into the field and then I’m white-hot, wild, undone.

  It sneaks up on me, like someone tackling from behind. I’m thrown into space, going off like a detonation, light bursting behind my eyes, and the groans out of my throat are loud, hoarse, and deafening.

  It takes a few moments for me to catch my breath, for my heart rate to stop galloping, and slowly I collapse on the bed. My thoughts won’t gather; I can only lie here while Rachel lies down next to me, fingers running over my sweat-soaked skin

  “Hey you,” she says, staring up at me through her thick lashes.

  I clear my throat a few times, my throat feeling like sandpaper. “Howdy.”

  “I like to think that went as planned,” she says. “But you sure as fuck know how to surprise me, Shane.”

  I lick my parched lips and tilt my head to stare at her. Her eyes are so wet and blue, and I know I have a bad habit of staring into them for too long, but I can’t help it. I never could.

  I reach over and take a strand of her damp hair between my fingers and gently brush it off her face.

  I’m so fucking wild about you.

  Please stay, please stay, please stay.

  I don’t even have to say it out loud. She knows.

  She opens her mouth to say something, eyes grappling with things I probably don’t understand. Then she says, “I think I’ll sleep well tonight. Can I stay here?”

  “You can stay here,” I tell her, kissing her gently on the nose. “You can stay here forever.”

  Please stay here forever.

  20

  Rachel

  I wake up with a start.

  My heart is thudding in my chest, making me wonder if I was in the middle of a bad dream.

  The room is hot, dark. Shane is beside me, sleeping on his stomach, one arm draped across my chest. I’m surprised he can’t feel how fast my heart is going, that it’s not waking him up.

  I take in a deep breath and will myself to calm down.

  After my mother and I came home, I stole away to Shane’s place, seduced him like I was some sort of goddess. I can’t explain it. I just wanted him so badly, wanted to give myself to him in the event that it was our last time.

  Was that our last time? I think, staring at him, how beautiful he looks when he’s sleeping, the soft curve of his full lips, the plane of his nose, his strong jaw. He has such a classic face, the ones you see in the old paintings, then later on Hollywood actors who could say a thousand words with just a glance, the last of a dying breed.

  Shane feels like one of the last true men. Someone honest and true, shooting straight like an arrow every time. He’s alpha when he needs to be and vulnerable when doesn’t. There’s no pretention when it comes to him, no front or façade. He’s like a motherfucking cowboy legend, drinking whisky, fighting off bears and telling the woman he loves that he’ll move mountains for her. He’ll move them all for me.

  If I stay here with Shane, I’ll be beyond lucky.

  I know this.

  And maybe that’s why I keep thinking about leaving.

  Because I have to.

  This whole entire time I’ve been holding back, guarding my heart like a stray dog guards his food. I know I could let go but I also know I have to leave.

  I haven’t lost my job yet. I worked so hard for it and, yeah, maybe the longer I’m here the more I realize that it doesn’t feed my soul. Neither does the condo, or the nightly dinners with friends who only talk about fashion and celebrity gossip and getting the most likes on their Instagram posts, nothing from their hearts. Neither did Samuel or any of the boys I dated. None of it fed me. It kept me alive but it didn’t give me a lust for life.

  A lust for love.

  Shane does that.

  He was part of my past.

  Now he can be part of my future.

  If I take that leap and leave everything I worked for behind.

  Shane and I were young and in love.

  I thought we were unstoppable, as those who are young and in love do, believing it’s enough to weather any storm.

  Now we’re older and…

  I sigh, feeling like I can’t get enough air. I slowly pick up his arm and lift it off my chest, then get to my feet.

  Flash.

  The room turns a shade of white.

  Lightning.

  I go to the window and look out.

  The wind is picking up, blowing in the curtains, the air dancing with the smell of electricity and change.

  Thunder follows with a long, loud bellow, like God is shouting across the land.

  There’s a reckoning afoot.

  I slip on my underwear and one of Shane’s t-shirts and I run out of the house, like I’m being drawn outside, a magnet to the storm.

  It’s fucking unreal.

  I throw my arms out and laugh as the sky dances with more lighting, flash after flash, fork lightning over the town, over the river. Thunder rumbles and shakes and I feel like I might just fly away from here, spread my wings and become the storm itself. Swirling, tumbling, twisting – all that power.

  I run a bit further, the tinder dry grass hot under my bare feet until I can see everything perfectly. The dark clouds roll in, obscuring the mountain range on the other side of the river, though they bring no rain.

  The wind blows my hair behind me and I can’t stop smiling.

  I pretended to be a goddess earlier but I feel like a goddess now.

  This is real.

  And my heart is shocked alive when I realize Shane’s love for me is as real as it comes.

  As real as this storm and the lightning and this land.

  As real as it’s ever been.

  Changing, churning, becoming and yet always staying true.

  It’s never too late, the words flit across my head, never too late to start again.

  I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready.

  To fight my demons, to fight for love.

  I’m going to stay.

  Lightning fills the sky, my skin and hair buzzing as it strikes the ponderosa pine by the road.

  I jump, let out a yelp.

  “Holy shit!”

  The tree goes up in flames immediately and I stand here, staring, trying to realize that this is also real, my nostrils filling with the smell of charred wood and smoke.

  The lightning strikes again and my world goes white.

  I’m vibrating, every cell in my body jumping like I’m being hit with resuscitation paddles.

  With hair standing straight up and out, I whip around in trance to see where the lightning hit.

&nbs
p; Behind me.

  The worker’s cottage.

  Where my mom is sleeping in her bed, drugged on pain medication after her surgery.

  Oh fuck no.

  I scream and start running up hill to the cottage as it starts to burn.

  “No!” I yell. “Mom! Mom! Wake up! Fire! Oh my god, oh my god, fire!”

  I keep running toward the building, my heart trying to leap out of my throat, my arms waving in the air even though there’s no one to see me. The lightning struck at the back of the cottage, where the kitchen is, and the orange flames already start licking the roof, spreading down the sides.

  “Help!” I scream and my words barely travel over the lightning and the thunder and the flames and I don’t know what I’m doing but I’m not about to stand and watch.

  I run right inside the house, heading for her bedroom.

  I stop and scream.

  The kitchen is completely on fire and even standing in the middle of the house for a second I can see the flames travel along the ceiling, eating way at the dried-out wood and spreading like greedy red fingers, consuming everything in sight.

  “Mom!” I cry out, the smoke already filling the rooms. Jesus, help me, this house is going to be completely gone in a few minutes.

  I run to her bedroom, just as flames reach out to grab me.

  I scream, my skin so hot I might ignite and start looking for something to cover me.

  “Rachel,” my mom croaks through the smoke. Alive!

  “I’m getting you out of there, can you get up?” I yell back.

  My mother starts coughing loudly and I can’t even see her in her bedroom, the smoke is so thick.

  “Rachel!”

  I turn around to see Shane standing at the door in his briefs, staring at me wide-eyed. “Get back!” he yells, running in and grabbing my arm, pulling me away just as flames leap across the doorway.

  “Shane, please,” I plead, tears streaming down my face while smoke fills my lungs. I try and tell him I need to see my mother but the words are buried by a coughing fit.

  “Vernalee!” he yells into the bedroom. “Stay where you are, I’m coming.”