WILDER:The Mountain Man's Babies(5)

By: Frankie Love

“Fuck, baby,” he says, cupping my face with his hands as his naked, chiseled, tattooed body hovers on top of me. “That’s not gonna cut it.”

“No?” I try not to be offended. I just told him it hurts, and he wants me to keep going?

“No.” Wilder shakes his head. “No way in hell am I going to hurt you. But I am going to fill your pretty pussy up tonight. So we need to stretch you out a little more, get you nice and ready for my cock. Don’t you worry, we can take our nice, sweet time.”

I smile, relieved that he wants to make this work because I do too. God, I need to.

“How do you plan on getting me ready?” I ask.

He grins, and damn, that gets me wet all over again. Seriously, how is this my life right now?

“I need to help you relax.”

I smile, already feeling my shoulders loosen with the slow, steady rhythm of his voice. He doesn’t rush his words, he takes his time, and I like that he wants to take his time with me, too. This may be a fling, but he sure as hell is making it a romantic one.

He unclasps my bra, then palms my breasts like their size is perfect. I’ve always been self-conscious that they were too small. That my nipples were a touch too big, and that a real man like Wilder wouldn’t find them attractive.

But his eyes are hooded, and he’s on his knees, my legs wrapped around him, and he shakes his head while thumbing my nipples.

“Damn, baby, your body is so fucking perfect. Like a dream. Like a perfect fucking wet dream, except it’s not. It’s real. You are real.”

Heat rises to my cheeks, and I close my eyes, my heart contracting as his words fall over me. I’ve dated guys, slept with them, but maybe that was the problem. Guys are different than men.

And Wilder... he is all man.

And tonight he said he was all mine.

My worries about my job and my flailing plans and my sister's criticism all float away as Wilder presses his mouth to my breasts, licks them like they are something delicious. Something to savor. Something to enjoy.

He runs his hand past my belly, between my legs, touching so tenderly, as if I am made of rose petals ready to fall to the ground.

I sigh, letting him go nice and slow over my folds, and my pussy is dripping under his spell.

“Try again, Wilder,” I ask. “I want you in me.”

“You sure, baby?”

“Please,” I say again. “Please come in me.”

His hands are on either side of my body as he lowers himself above me. I reach for his cock, wanting to feel his velvety warmth.

“You’re so hard.”

“For you.”

My eyes close, my back sinks deeper into the hotel mattress, as I guide him to my entrance. His tip presses inside me, and I breathe through the pain this time, and as he fills me up, it passes. Instead of wincing, I’m floating away.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling my body closer to him. “I’m on the pill,” I tell him, later than I should have. The truth is, I want to feel every inch of him in me without anything in the way.

“That’s too bad,” he whispers in my ear, planting kisses along my cheek as he slowly rocks into me.

His arms slide under me, and he manages to pull me over, and up, so I’m straddling him. Looking in his eyes, I ask, “Why’s that?”

“Because I’d love nothing more to knock you up. To put a baby in you and keep you as my woman.”

I don’t know if he’s joking. I mean, of course, he is joking. No one talks like that... thinks like this.

Except his eyes are fixed on mine, seeing deep into my soul.

“I don’t want babies for a long time,” I tell him.

He smiles, as I move my hips in small circles, my pussy exploding with pleasure as he fills me from this angle. “Not even mine?”

I laugh, pressing my hands to his chest, and I lean over, kissing him again, as his cock pulses inside me.

“I don’t even know where you live, Wilder. I don’t think we’re quite ready to make a baby.”

“Maybe not,” he tells me, tucking tendrils of hair behind my ear, then his hand cups my face. “But if we were, you are the sort of woman I’d want to make one with.” He thrusts deep inside me, and I moan as an orgasm washes over me.

“Why, Wilder,” I beg, my hands on my breasts as I move harder, harder, harder against him. “Why a woman like me?”

He comes in me, grunting as he does, his hand moving to my hips as he releases deep inside of me.

“Because you, Stella, you don’t mess around. You go all in. I like that, how confident you are.”

I grin, clearly, Wilder has a way with women. Has a way with me.

“I’m not as confident as you think, my professional life is kind of a cluster, to be honest,” I tell him, thinking about my messed-up interview. I roll to his side and he wraps his strong arm around my body, cradling me.

“It’s all about the delivery,” he tells me.

“What do you mean?”

“At the bar, you exuded confidence, knew exactly what you wanted. That’s what you need to do in business too. Don’t give anyone a reason to doubt you.”

I think back to the interview, how I so quickly deemed myself a terrible designer for a job that seemed bigger than my skill set. But I know if I spent a few weeks cultivating my eye for more rustic interiors, I could do great.