Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“At least take me out for dinner first,” I attempt to joke, but it comes out husky and breathy. I sound… sultry. Very unlike myself. “Is now a good time to admit I’ve never done that before?”
“Never?”
“I’ve uh… been celibate for a while.” It’s hard to want someone else when you fancy one person. For people like me, it’s impossible. Casual sex has never been my thing. I don’t frown on it, but I just can’t do it myself. There’s zero attraction for me in thinking about having sex with a stranger. I’d rather pleasure my own body. At least I trust myself to do that. I wouldn’t trust someone I don’t even know. And after Wilder, there was no one else I wanted to know like that. No matter how hard I tried to force myself to get on, get over it, and stop the silly crush, it never worked. I never wanted anyone else. There was never even the smallest spark of interest. “I’ve been busy. I keep odd hours. So… I guess have at ‘er if you like.”
He wriggles his brows. It’s nice that he can talk about butt stuff with a smile on his face. “It’s what you’d like. This is a no-pressure zone.”
“The carrots. The gravy.”
“Uh, is that a metaphor? I think food items are pretty dangerous when it comes to—”
“No, I wanted to cook them too,” I say.
Understanding dawns on him. “Ahh. We’ll be fast.”
I shoot him a look. “No, we won’t.”
“Yeah, we probably won’t.”
There’s wanting someone, and then there’s needing them, and I need this man. I know this is bad. This shouldn’t be happening. We’re both naked, and the last thing I want to do is get my clothes and put them back on. I’m usually such a careful person. I think things through. I’m emotionally intelligent and averagely smart. I can make a decision, but I like to weigh all the pros and cons.
I don’t just say fuck it.
But this time, fuck it, I need Wilder. Even if having him right now wrecks me. Even if I know there’s no such thing as a one-and-done. Even if we both go up in flames. I don’t want to be rational. I don’t want to be careful. I just want to be this desperate, sultry, naked woman who gets her pussy eaten in the kitchen, and then her ass too.
Holy. Freaking. Fuck. I can’t believe I just thought that.
With my luck, I half expect the universe to intervene in the form of a tree falling on the house, a sudden rogue wave that travels miles from the beach, or the cats or the dog racing in here, but it’s quiet outside the house and in here.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Let’s do it.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need you to tell me what you’d like me to do,” he responds, his eyes sparkling with devilment.
Fine. If he wants to hear me talk dirty, I can do that, no matter how brutally it makes me blush. “I would like you, Jack, to haul me off this counter, turn me around, bend me over, lick my asshole, stuff my pussy full of your fingers, and finger-tongue fuck me until I come harder than I’ve ever come in my entire life, because goddamn it, it’s been a long time in the making.”
“Wow,” he whistles. “That’s hot. You’re a great writer, Carissa, but you’re a great speaker too. I’m at your beck and call.”
Chapter nine
Wilder
You know what it’s like to reveal the darkest, deepest, dirtiest parts of yourself and have someone else see that and still think you’re amazing and perfect, and there’s nothing in the world wrong with you?
I don’t. Not since my grandma.
Oh god. Not like that. Fuck. Fuck. I mean, I used to tell her what was bothering me and what I was thinking. I trusted her with my emotions and my heart.
But the butt stuff? That’s never seen the light of day, and not just because I don’t sleep around. I’ve had a few partners in the past, before I realized relationships and the limelight are hard. There have always been parts of myself I’ve held back. Mostly because I imagined the whole Wilder likes to tongue assholes thing going viral, and the label losing their mind. Honestly, if it had gotten out there, I would have said a big, “So what?” I’m just a guy. Whatever. I like what I like. I would have refused to be ashamed, and I could only hope it would make me more relatable. I’ve always told my fans to be proud of who they are.
I just handed Carissa one of my biggest secrets. I trust her with it.
I’m standing buckass naked in her kitchen, so I think there’s quite a bit more I’ve already entrusted to her.
The weight of my thoughts is always so heavy. The consequences too. I always think before I do something, so this is definitely outside my normal.