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"Yes, you can, Angel. Think about all those orgasms I’ve denied you… don’t you want me to repay them?"
He almost sounds as thoughhewants to repay them, but my brain is too hopped up on endorphins to wade through what heisn’tsaying.
A suction sound fills the room as he slides his fingers out of me. Using his shoulders to keep my legs open, he yanks down my pajama bottoms and panties before moving to rub hard, fast circles around my clit. The sensation would have had me jumping off the sofa if it weren’t for the large palm planted on my lower belly, pushing me back into the couch cushions as he coaxes my body toward a second release.
“Maybe we can set up some sort of repayment plan,” I moan, shaking my head from side to side as I try to fight my body’s desire.
“Nah, I think I’d rather give them all to you at once.”
I groan, knowing I’m in for a night of painful pleasure, but it’s one I already know I’ll willingly endure every second of.
I’m already barreling toward a second orgasm. I wiggle an arm free to grab hold of Wilder’s arm, my fingernails digging into his skin as my release takes hold. Our eyes clash, and the intensity I see in his burns me from the inside out.
"Oh god, Wilder," I moan, not even daring to blink as pleasure crashes over me.
There’s no change in his facial expression. No smug pleasure, no sense of satisfaction. Just that same intensity, as though he can’t look away, but he doesn’t know why he’s so entranced.
His fingers plunge back inside, sliding in easily, and I cry out.
"Please, Wilder, I can’t."
"You can," he growls ferociously, causing me to whimper.
There’s no slow, lazy pace this time. He rams three fingers into me with all the force of a wrecking ball, destroying my pussy in the best way possible. Half delirious, I hurtle headfirst over the edge, screaming as tears leak from the corners of my eyes and run down my cheeks.
My body hums with pleasure, sighs with satisfaction, and burns with desire.
My muscles give up the fight, going lax as my legs fall open. Wrung out and sated, my head falls back against the arm of the sofa as I try to catch my breath and lower my heart rate to a less dangerous beat.
I groan as Wilder slides his fingers out, still unable to lift my head to look at him. Only when I feel something cold pressing against my swollen pussy lips, does my head snap up. Just in time to gape as I watch Wilder push a small, oval-shaped vibrator inside me.
"What the—" My words trail off as I watch him stare, hypnotized, at where the vibrator is disappearing. Licking his lips as though he wishes he could trade places with it.
A second later, a slow vibration begins, and I groan, half in pleasure, half in pain. “No, Wilder.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “Yes, you can.”
As if to prove his point, he increases the intensity until I’m mewling and writhing, mumbling pleas and curses, all of which go unanswered. My body feels like it’s on fire. I can’t tell if I want to come or run away from the overwhelming sensations. Unable to sit still, I push myself upright, forcing Wilder to sit back on his haunches.
I cling to Wilder, desperate to grab ahold of something before I’m swept away. My fists clench the front of his t-shirt, my legs wrapping around his waist as I drag him to me. He doesn’t resist, seeming as lost in the frenzy as I am.
“Wilder,” I cry, uncaring of the tears streaming down my face. “Please.”
Please, what? I have no idea. Words have lost all meaning.
He wraps one of his strong arms around my back, pressing me flush against him while his other hand slides into my hair, holding me a few inches away from his face so he can capture every second of my pleasure—or pain. I’m still not entirely sure what he’s getting from this. Is this a new method of torture, or is it something more?
“Shh,” he says surprisingly softly, silencing any more of my pleas. “Just let me look at you.”
Covered in a sheen of sweat while I grind against the hard erection in his sweats, I don’t know what it is he sees, but he stares at me with such reverence that all I can do is stare back. It’s as if he’s trying to memorize my every reaction to the pleasure he’s deriving. Soaking up each second of this connection between us as if he needs to feel this closeness between us as badly as I do.
The seconds tick by while I continue to incinerate, lost in the endless depths of his eyes.
“You look so beautiful when you’re coming apart in my arms,” he murmurs so quietly that I wouldn't have heard if I wasn’t practically sitting on top of him.
I have no idea what’s happening. This is a newer version of the same sort of torture as before, but it’s also different. There isn’t that same hatred burning in Wilder’s eyes. Instead, he just looks lost. So very lost. And the way he’s looking at me, it’s as though the tables are turned, and I’m preventinghimfrom being swept away. Like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded, preventing him from giving in to whatever demons constantly nip at his heels.
In a desperate moment of need, I surge forward, needing to feel the firm press of his lips against mine. It’s been so long since I’ve completely lost myself in Wilder Clearwater, and I’d give up just about anything to do exactly that. To drown in him. To be consumed by his fury. To fall into his madness and give myself over to his demons. If Wilder is lost, I want to be lost with him. I want to walk alongside him down whatever dark and dangerous path he's on.
