“Good. Mace has it, and she seems to think she’ll be next. I’ll have to rearrange her schedule if that happens.” I get the last words out before Wylder goes on the offense, slamming two fingers inside me. My eyes close, body moving closer, feeling a whisper of a breath against the underside of one ass cheek, right before he sucks the skin in, deep, so deep I know that he’s leaving a mark. We work together. Since I’m on my knees now, giving us both room to work, every time his fingers retreat, I glide backwards, not letting them leave. He adds another. The burn and pleasure all at once consumes me.
“Wylde!” I clench my thighs together, keeping his fingers inside of me. He hits my G-spot, and I swear to God the feeling is out of this world, indescribable.
“Sweetheart, the way you go after your orgasm not even letting it build up before you go off. Fuck, I want nothing more than to slide deep inside your cunt over and over again.” That’s not the case today, though, because his fingers leave me, painting my inner thighs with my wetness as he does.
“Stay home, then,” I attempt to persuade him.
“Tomorrow, I’m all yours.” He smacks my ass and moves away from me, probably going to the bathroom to finish getting ready.
“I’m going to hold you to that. Have a good day at work,” I reply sleepily.
“You do that. I’ll call or text you later.” He comes out, no longer disheveled, and places a gentle kiss on my lips, his thumb sliding along my cheek.
“Okay.” I barely lift my head. That’s what Wylde gets for leaving me the way he has—sated, naked, and tired.
TWENTY-TWO
Celeste
I’ve beenat Wylde’s penthouse for two nights and two straight days after ordering a couple of outfits that were simple enough, a summer dress in case we decided to go out, a pair of sandals that were versatile for any occasion, bras, panties, and a bathing suit as well as all the necessities a bachelor pad of a man wouldn’t have. A spare toothbrush, hairbrush, shampoo, and conditioner. I did away with not buying skincare, which in Nevada is probably the biggest sin ever. Yesterday, I lay by the pool, relaxing, until Wylde got back from work, longer than the few hours he’d expected, which was fine. I worked on my tan, called my parents, then followed that up with a phone call to Tyra. Von was busy talking up a storm in the background, playing with the firetrucks he’s been obsessed with since he was able to play, the noisier the better. And yes, I made sure to help fund his love for all things noisy. They were all still at Mace’s place, him in the room trying to keep the noise away from Tyra. Judging by the tiredness in her voice, I’d say she’ll be calling me tomorrow with it being her turn. I still didn’t bring up the whole situation of her and her ex-husband; some things are better left face to face, which will totally be happening.
Once Wylde was home, true to his word, he made up for falling asleep at my place and us not going out that night. We had dinner at a local steakhouse, then it was back here, where we wore each other out even more than the night before.
“What has you so deep in thought over there?” Today was a day of pure laziness. I made a simple breakfast, working with what Wylde had in his fridge—eggs, bacon, cheese, bell peppers, onions, and tortillas. Breakfast quesadillas. I was in a pair of jean shorts and tank top for the day. Wylde sporting a pair of jeans, bare feet, and without a shirt had me drooling whenever he walked by. Sometimes, he’d have to answer a call or an email, taking him from where we were either relaxing on the balcony like we are now or when we were inside, him figuring out what he was going to make for dinner until he settled on chicken, roasted new potatoes, and a spinach salad.
“How we’re going to keep things quiet tomorrow, especially since we can’t seem to keep our eyes and hands off one another.” My legs are over his thighs while we’re sitting on the balcony again. His hand slides closer and closer to my outer hip, causing my body to heat up with how he touches me. Seriously, it’s not going to be a fun week. Besides us both having a slammed schedule, it’s going to be hard alone to manage to see one another. Add in the fact that we’ll have to sneak around, yeah, it’s going to suck.
“Who said anything about keeping this private? I know I sure haven’t. Are you going to let a few employees scare you away from what’s building between us? I didn’t take you for a woman who backs down.” I move my legs off him, or attempt to. Wylde doesn’t let me, though, holding me tighter, not enough to leave any marks but enough to keep me still.
“I’m not, and while I love everything about this relationship between us, I have the most to lose. Do you know the rumors that are going to be swirling around? I’m a woman owning a business. The women alone who work at Wylder’s are going to tear me apart, not to mention the men will probably think I’m easy and the only reason I got the job was because I slept my way to the top.” My eyes go to his. He’s furious, lips tight, a firmness settled in his jaw. Good, that’s great. I am, too, which is probably why I let my mouth get away with the next sentence. “And don’t get me started on the Vanessa shit that keeps swirling around. I swear, every day, all I hear is ‘I wonder if Wylder and Vanessa are together. Why is she on his social media but not around for the opening of his casino and hotel?’” My chest is heaving, annoyed that I have to explain these things to him. I know he’s not a mind reader, but some of this is common sense. Our eyes are locked in a stare-down. I’m not worried. Wylde would never hurt me; it’s not who he is, even if I’ve only known him for a week. What I do know about him is that he can be set in his ways entirely too much.
So, I wait, and I watch, grabbing the glass of lemonade I made before coming out here, sitting next to Wylde’s bourbon he poured himself after dinner, a round glass with ice sitting inside it. He’s not touching it, though, not needing something to do with his hands beside holding me in place. Meanwhile, I’m taking my time with my drink, not knowing what else to do after that tangent I just laid on him.
“If you think for one second I’d go after you while Vanessa was in the picture still, you’re dead wrong. We’ve had this discussion with the Journey situation. Vanessa and I have always been friends and will remain that way. There isn’t anything between us except being platonic.”
“I know that. I’m not saying you are. I’m simply stating what others are circulating, and now you basically want to stamp my forehead with your name right out of the gates,” I interrupt. That’s not a subject I want him thinking I’d ever believe.
“Maybe not your forehead, but your ass with my handprint? Fuck, yeah.” His eyes go hazy with lust. My core clenches. How we’ll ever finish a conversation, I have no idea. “I’m calling Monica first thing in the morning. That handbook is being ripped up, and I’m taking down my social media. I’ll either steal Pierre as my assistant or hire another one. Your place is beside me, sweetheart. A lot of changes are coming, and in a good way.”
“I don’t know, Wylde. It seems like it’ll all backfire. You’ll be fine; it’ll be me who feels their wrath.” He takes the glass out of my hand, sets it down on the table next to his with a loud clunk, and then I’m in his lap, my inner thighs plastered to his outer, hands sliding from my hips, circling around to my lower back, gliding under my tank top until he finds skin.
“Anyone gives you any shit, I’ll take care of it. I don’t care if I have to send out a company-wide memo. This right here, it’s you and me. I want to be able to stop by the spa when you’re in between clients and for you to feel comfortable coming to my office. I’m not going to hang you out to dry. You’re mine, Celeste, meaning I’ll be the one protecting you.” His mouth meets mine, not leaving me any way to respond, but that’s okay because the way things are going, I know the truth: I might be Wylder Hayes’, but he’s also mine.
TWENTY-THREE
Wylde
Celeste finally fucking gets it.My teeth tug at her bottom lip. A moan leaves her mouth when my tongue snakes inside, tasting the lemonade she just sipped on, another flavor that’s all Celeste Reyes—spicy, sweet, and so intoxicating there’s no way I’ll ever get tired of kissing her. She molds closer to my body, fingers pressing deeper, massaging the hardness in my pecs. One of my hands is tangled in her loose hair, keeping her where she can’t back away, the other pressed to her lower back, pulling her in until she’s practically on my cock.
“Off. I want our clothes off.” She pulls away, breathless, panting, chest heaving. The shirt she’s wearing has been a tease all fucking day. Not wearing a bra, meaning I saw her berry-colored tips peeking through the white fabric. It’s been hard to keep my hands off her, not that that was what she wanted, but I saw the wince when she sat down earlier this morning. My male pride had me wanting to beat my chest, knowing that she is my match in all things, is business oriented, loves her friends and family relentlessly, the conversations are endless, and the sex, fuck, she’s up for anything, doesn’t shy away at all.
“Fuck,” I groan as her hands leave my body, pulling at her tank top. My tongue slides around one pert nipple, teasing until I feel her hands press my head deeper, pulling me in, and that’s when I suck the tip deep into my mouth. I’m not sure who’s the greedy one, her or me.
“Wylde, please, I need to feel you.” I move from one nipple to the other, giving it the same attention. My other hand slides around to her stomach, pulling at the button on her shorts, going for the zipper. I move away, standing up with Celeste wrapping her legs around my waist, and head towards the glass balcony railing. The pool is off to the right-hand side, a perk for spending what I did on this place. Especially when I came home yesterday and saw Celeste’s body in a bikini, using my teeth to pull at the string between her tits, the ones tied on each side of her hips, baring her body to my view and the hot sun, having my wicked way with the woman who’s consuming more than my heart; she’s taking over my soul, too.
“Unwrap, sweetheart,” I tell her once we make it to the railing. She does as I say, hands going to my jeans as I watch her shimmy out of her own lace thong and jean shorts.
“No fucking way.” An attempt to drop to her knees, wanting to wrap that sinful mouth around my cock, is not what I want tonight. “Need to sink my cock inside you, Celeste.” I kick out of my pants. My hand grabs her shoulder, spinning her around, then I step behind her so I’m pressed to her back. I wrap my arm around her chest, one breast in the palm of my hand, the other moving to her inner thigh, pulling it up until her calf wraps around my waist, spreading her body wide open. Fuck, what I wouldn’t love to see her like that for me. Next time, it’ll be in front of a mirror so I can watch the rivulets of sweat coating her body, the pebbled flesh, her eyes closed, back arched, desperate for my cock to slide inside. I hold on, though, wanting to heighten and prolong the pleasure.