Page 41 of Chasing the Wild
My fingers dip down, as I lean up against the tiles. Screwing my eyes shut, I feel the slippery wetness that has been building all day in his presence.
We both know we shouldn’t be in here like this. He hasn’t said a word, because he knows this is crossing a line. One that we absolutely cannot step over.
That’s when, just as my middle finger presses forward, parting my pussy lips, sliding over my clit, I hear his voice, rumbling in my ear. “No one needs to know.”
The roar of blood fills my awareness, and my nails scratch against the wall.
A whimper falls from my lips as I work my finger to rub firm circles over the bundle of nerves.
“Shhh. That’s it. This is just our little secret.” I hear Colt’s voice and imagine it’s his thick finger playing with my soaking wet pussy.
Heat floods me from head to toe and has absolutely nothing to do with the water pouring down. I’m teetering on the brink as I bite down on my lip. Trying to be the good girl for him that he wants. He’s coaxing me to be quiet for him. Not to let anyone hear that he’s in my shower with me, getting me off.
My breathing grows more and more labored, and my forehead drops against the smooth surface of the tiles. A quiver builds in my thighs as I feel the wave cresting. My finger rubs frantically, circling my clit in just the way I know is going to get me there.
God, the ache is exquisite and unbearable.
I need to get there.
Right. Fucking. Now.
Bright sparks flood behind my eyes and I feel the moment everything clenches, chased by the wave breaking over me. Silent gasps, with my mouth hanging open accompany the slow, circling touch as I continue to work over the swollen bud. Drawing out the rolling pleasure.
All the while, the ghost of the man hovering over me stays there.
But when I open my eyes, it’s just me in this lonely shower.
I’m alone.
And I hate that I can’t do anything about it.
Chapter 12
There’s a special place in hell reserved just for men like me. Someone who should know better than to fuck his fist every night thinking about the hot young cunt just down the hallway.
The girl who belongs to my son.
Now, here I am, trapped in the confines of my truck cab as we make our way down the mountain for the first time since Layla barged into my life two weeks ago.
Her busted car is hitched on a trailer so we can drop it at the mechanic in town, and it’s going to be a massive day of picking up all the supplies we’ll need.
The road is likely to be cleared long enough to get everything done, but there’s no telling when the next storm front might move in.
Besides, at this time of year, the road to Devil’s Peak lives up to its name. Conditions are less than ideal after a heavy snowstorm, and there’s always the risk of rockfall or slips with trees coming down.
My usual rule at this time of year is that it’s safer to stay put and I don’t intend to hang around down here in town any longer than I need to.
At least having two of us to get everything done will make it a quicker ordeal than usual. Thank fuck, because it’s not like my own damn kid is going to make himself useful, from what I can tell. I haven’t heard from him since the night he called up on the radio. I’m going to presume he’ll drag his sorry ass up the mountain once he’s sobered up. We’ll probably get back tonight and find him propped up on the couch.
I can’t say I’ve missed not having to deal with his crap lying around. Layla is like a mouse, I hardly notice her at times, even more so since she’s hidden out in her room all week.
She says she’s got a good book, but I know she’s avoiding me.
Which has been a blessing and torture all at the same time.
Things got way too close for comfort that night, when all I wanted to do was drag her into my bed.
So now I’m just the fucking idiot who can’t stop thinking about shit I have no right to. The squeeze of her tight little pussy wrapping around my cock as I pump her full. Watching my seed spill out of her. Hearing her breathy moans when I suck on her perfect tits.
