Page 83 of Wilder

But as with anything that came with Asher Torres, he was just as damn stubborn as they came.

His other hand snaked around before I could think, fingertips grazing over the sensitive head of my cock, smearing the slickness there like he wanted to tease or test me until it pushed me over the fucking edge again.

I damn near lost it.

I let go of his shirt instantly, reaching down to snatch his other hand, forcing it back down and pinning it on the other side of his head against the desk, effectively locking him beneath me. His fingers twitched in my hold, his head tilting back just slightly to expose more of his throat, more of that perfectly flushed skin that I wanted my teeth on again.

Another mark, right at that spot where his shoulder and neck met, that would be a perfect place for one more.

“You’re being unfair.” He twisted his hips up, grinding against me, trying hard to rake the hard line of his arousal into mine.

Ignoring him was easy, made better by the sound he made the second I latched my mouth on his neck once more. He tasted salty from the sun, sweet from whatever body wash he used back in Louisiana before climbing onto that plane to come back to me.

He was never leaving again. I wouldn’t have it.

Three weeks was too long. Too much time away for him to forget about all of us and leave the life he’d built over the past year behind. If his family wanted to see him, they’d have to come here—plenty of rooms were open up at the bunkhouse for temporary housing.

“Let me touch you.” Whiny. Frustrated. The words forced out between his teeth like he was on the verge of snapping completely.

I sank my teeth into his skin again, the sharp bite earning me a gasp from him. I smoothed the spot instantly, dragging my tongue slowly over it in order to trace the faint imprints left behind to make sure they were deep enough to bruise later.

A shudder ran through him. “Please...”

His body arched to chase after me, not deterred even a little bit by the way I had him pinned down.

“You think I’m being unfair?” I murmured, brushing my lips against the shell of his ear. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

He let out a soft, choked noise, his fingers twitching uselessly in my grip. “Wilder...”

Fuck, I loved it. Couldn’t get enough.

I rammed my hips into his hard, rocking the desk under us against the wall, letting him feel every inch of me in that desperate attempt to chase after the pleasure I was controlling, every ounce of the frustration that had been building between us for too goddamn long.

This had been months in the making. Maybe a year, if I was being honest with myself. The second he’d stepped off the bus and onto my property, something in me had latched onto him and hadn’t let go since.

Whether it was some kind of divine fate or whatever other bullshit Laken liked to wax poetic about with those songs of his, I didn’t care. All that mattered was my name on Asher’s lips, purring it like he was praying to a god neither of us believed in.

“Fuck me.” He squeezed his leg around me, locking me in place, his other trapped against the edge of the desk by my own.

Jesus.

Having him laid out like this, spread beneath me, would be the perfect angle to slide into him if I had him already naked. One leg hitched up to part those perky, round cheeks, and the other pulled to the side, giving me something to hold onto, to dig my fingers into, while I fucked into him relentlessly until he was shaking and couldn’t remember his own name.

Too bad I hadn’t come more prepared.

Then again, how the fuck could I have expected any of this to happen?

I exhaled slowly, dipping my head back down to brush my nose against the shell of his ear. “Can’t.”

That was all I said before pulling his ear lobe between my lips. Funny, he still had places he was soft despite how strong and solid the rest of him was.

“What?” Something in his tone shifted, sounding distressed. “I swear, I’ll behave. I’ll—fuck, I’ll be good. I won’t say anything to anyone.”

I snapped my eyes open.

I’ll be good.

Fuck.