Wylde’s hands grip my hips, pulling me closer to his hard body, the heaviness between his legs in particular. “Dance with me.” His husky voice shivers up my body. He’s walking me backwards as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding on while still keeping up with his strides as I nod, willing to go anywhere with him. The song in the background is deep, heavy, has pure sexual awareness vibrating through our bodies,Blinding Lightsby The Weeknd. I never realized the lyrics in this song until now, until Wylde has us in a different part of the dance floor, the vibrant colors still gliding over bodies, ours just being dusted by them. I spin around, ass grinding against Wylde’s cock, feeling his hands on my bare skin at the open cut outs of my dress. We let the heavy beat take us over as he keeps up with the way I’m moving, the tightening of his grip telling me the effect I’m having on him.
“Just like that, Celeste. You want my hands on your body, don’t you?” I arch backwards, feeling his fingers slip inside the fabric of my dress. The glide along the underside of my breasts has my nipples hardening. A need to feel them along the tips, knowing that he can take me there by playing with my breasts alone, and when he takes one hand away, I release a breathless mewl. It’s painful and cruel. “Wylde.” My hands leave the back of his neck as he is kissing, licking, and sucking the base of my neck. Goose bumps prickle my skin. He allows me the room to use one of my hands, moving it to his lower abdomen then sliding it inside his pants.
“Fuck, Celeste, I’m going to make you come just like this. People could be watching.” I reach his cock, feeling the nakedness. Wylde is hot, heavy. I grip his length in my hand wishing it were my mouth gliding along his cock instead of my fist.
“Yes, God, yes, please. Right here, right now.” The bodies, the noise, the atmosphere, it’s only making the sensation heighten, and while I should be worried about my best friend, it all melts away with a look of Wylde’s eyes, a whisper of a word, a touch along my skin. I’m in another dimension where only he and I exist.
“Son of a bitch. Next time I get you off, it’ll be with my mouth or my cock, no clothes on,” he groans against my ear. The hand that left my breast is now under the skirt of my dress, sliding the fabric of my thong to the side, no doubt it’s soaking wet. His thumb thrums against my clit as he presses two thick fingers inside my center. I clench around them. And as much as I’m attempting to jack his dick, it’s harder as my body trembles. There’s no way it’s possible, not with the movements he’s making, sliding in and out, his thumb staying at my clit, my head dropping to his shoulder, lips seeking his, needing them before I scream down the club with how good this feels.
“Fuck.” The word leaves my lips as he tips my body over the edge. Wylde brings me down slowly, and when his fingers leave my center, our eyes meet. I watch as he takes his first taste of me. I swear his tongue wraps around his fingers so lasciviously, a mini orgasm wrecks me.
“Wylde,” I respond, spinning around in his arms, mouth going back to his, tasting myself on his lips, needing and wanting more until we’re both panting. I’m grappling to get closer to him, to meld with his body, ready to crawl into his arms and never leave
“Time to go,” he grunts when our kiss ends.
“I have to cash out,” I explain to him. I meant to do that when Tyra left, but those plans were foiled in the best way possible.
“I’ll take care of it.” I watch as Wylde takes his phone out of his pocket, efficiently firing off a text or email, I’m not sure which. He’s done before it started.
“Thank you.” I go on my toes, whispering it into his ear. He wraps his arm around my shoulder. I know we probably shouldn’t display this type of affection with one another while walking through the club then the hotel, but after what we just did, I can’t be bothered.
TWENTY-ONE
Celeste
“Stay.I won’t be in the office long. Order breakfast, lounge outside. There’s a pool. Do whatever you want.” The man is made of pure freaking stamina. Clearly, nearing forty isn’t slowing him down with the way he took me last night and all night long. In fact, he took me two times, yes, two, after we made it back to his house in record time. Wylde handling his Bugatti with effortless ease, then escorted me into his massive penthouse, all slick, masculine, with small creature comforts interspersed. Not that I got to see a whole lot because once we made it inside, his lips were on mine, and our bodies didn’t stop until I was fast asleep. And when Wylde woke me up again this morning, asking without asking that he wanted and needed my lips wrapped around his cock, I happily obliged, finally getting to taste him, to see what checks off all the marked boxes that drives him mad, pressing my head further on his length. He attempted to pull me off, as if I wasn’t prepared to take his cum and swallowing it down. Which is exactly what I did. It didn’t take him long till his energy was back to normal, freaking anomaly. Seeing him get out of bed, watching him while I laze as he gets in the shower. A wide-open space that allowed me to see the glass shower steam up and take in the view that’s pure male. The next time I have him in bed, my mouth is going to trace the tattoo that starts on his upper chest and goes down his arm in a sleeve, roses and gods wrapping around him much like I want to.
“I have no clothes, Wylde. I’ll go home and head back here when you’re off work.” I watched as he got ready, thinking about the other time he woke me up, when his broad shoulders were pressed against my inner thighs, mouth to my clit, eating me with deep pulls that I could feel from my the top of my head to the tips of my toes while his two thick fingers were thrusting in and out, on the verge of coming by the time I came to realize it wasn’t a dream, and it was Wylde himself fucking me with everything except his dick.
Too bad he’s already dressed in another suit, this one reminiscent of last night, except the color is a smidge lighter, the shirt a soft lavender color, and the black tie. Jesus, he’s sexy, and he’s all mine. I know that because more than once he made me admit it while he was tunneling his cock in and out of me.
“Order them. I want you here. Tomorrow, we’re both off of work unless there’s an emergency, then who knows when I’ll have you in my bed again.” I’m lying on my stomach. Wylde’s fingers are slowly sliding down the length of my spine, taking the sheet along with it until my ass is bare to him. I pause to think about this. I could Instacart clothes and a bathing suit. Technically, I could go nude with it being on the penthouse floor. The only problem with that is burning from the hot Nevada sun. No thanks.
“I’ll stay on one condition.” His eyebrows arch up, as if I’m going to negotiate a sexual deal. “Get your head out of the gutter. I’m pretty sure you screwed me so well, I’ll need at least five hours to recover.”
“Then what’s your condition?” The fingers that were at the top of spine have now made an appearance at one globe, still moving lower and lower. “Spread for me, Celeste.” My body obeys his command, like a puppet on a string minus the whole manipulation meaning behind the phrase. “What was that?” he asks as his two fingers graze my clit for just the barest of moments.
“As if I can think when you do that.” I arch my back, move my knees so I’m lifted up towards his fingers. That still doesn’t get the point across.
“You’re not getting them until you tell me the condition.” Shit, he’s playing dirty. That’s okay. I can get him back in other ways.
“Tyra. I need to call her and make sure Von’s okay before I make a decision.” I texted her on the way here last night. She managed to get his temperature down by giving him a lukewarm bath, Pedialyte, and alternating between Tylenol and Motrin. Mace had given him Tylenol, which didn’t touch it, so she went right into doing what she does best: taking care of Von. They say being a mother shouldn’t be your identity, but Tyra wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Text her. Your phone is on the nightstand.” Wylde’s fingers don’t leave where they’ve sat at a stalemate. I grab my phone, unable to use facial recognition with how I’m currently lying down. I quickly put the passcode in, bring Tyra’s name up, and fire away.
Me: Hey sis, how’s Von doing?
It doesn’t take her long to respond. Thankfully, she’s a lot like me, and our phones are near our bodies ninety percent of the time. That doesn’t mean they aren’t on silent, though.
Tyra: Von’s fever broke, and he is fine. Now Mace has it. Must be a virus. Pretty sure I’ll be next ?
Me: Shit, want me to head that way and grab Von so you two can rest? Maybe it won’t be so bad for you?
Tyra: No, rather get it over and done with. I’ll text later. I’m going to lie down with Von.
Me: Sure, it’s just Von ;)…Love you guys. Text if you need anything.
“How’s he doing?” Wylde asks like he couldn’t see the screen the entire time.