I have no clue what time it is. But, by the light creeping into the sky, I’d say it’s early morning.

Time seems to have no relevance while I’m here, in my apartment, with Morgan. And I should be tired after the flight. But I’m not. Not one little bit, and apparently, neither is Morgan.

We started Breaking Bad with the intention of just watching a few episodes. We ended up watching the whole first season. In between make-out sessions, obviously.

We had to pause the show a few times as the make-out sessions turned into sex.

Just like it did half an hour ago when the last episode finished.

So far, we’ve fucked on my sofa, twice, including this last time. On the kitchen counter when we washed up our plates. And the living room wall on the way back from the kitchen from washing the plates.

I’m going to have to do a condom run if we keep going at this rate.

It’s amazing, how much sex we’ve had in such a short space of time.

I’ve always been the kind of guy who can go a few rounds in quick succession. But, with Morgan, I’ve got the fucking stamina of a stallion.

We’re lying on the sofa on our sides, facing each other, a blanket covering us. Because, of course, we’re both naked.

“I don’t think we should get dressed for the rest of the weekend,” I announce.

Smiling eyes lift to meet mine. “No?”

“Nope.”

“What if we order in and one of us has to go to the door?”

“Well, you’re sure as fuck not. I’m not letting some other guy see these babies.” I cup her tits in my hands and squish them together.

She giggles.

“What if it’s a girl delivery person? I don’t want her seeing your…cock.”

God, I love it when she says cock. She sounds so sweet, which makes the word sound even dirtier. Like when she says, Fuck, or, Make me come, or even just, Wilder. My name has never sounded sweeter or sexier than it does when coming from her lips.

“Okay, so if it’s a dude delivering, then I’ll go to the door.”

“And you don’t mind another guy seeing your package while he hands over his package?”

She grins, and I have to fist-bump her for that.

“Nicely put. And not at all, babe. I played sports in high school, so I’m used to showing guys my cock.”

“Is this some new sport that I don’t know about? Because, if it is, I want to hear all about it.”

“You dirty little perv,” I tease.

She laughs.

“I meant, in the showers. Guys aren’t shy about getting naked when they have to shower together after sports. And I have a big cock, so I’ve no need to be shy.”

“And a serious amount of confidence.”

“Are you disputing the fact that I have a massive dick?”

“Never.” She flashes her eyes at me. “So, am I to guess that I’m going to the door if a woman delivers the food?”

“Yep.”

“Well, you might be comfortable with flashing your junk to complete strangers, but I’m not so keen on showing the girls to strange women.”

“So, I’m taking it, that would also be a no to bringing the delivery girl inside, so the three of us could act out a porno fantasy of mine?”

“You ass!” she yells, shoving me in the chest.

I grab her hands, forcing her to her back, and pin them over her head. I dip my mouth to hers and kiss her. She responds immediately, moaning softly against my lips.

I fucking love how responsive she is to me.

I lift my mouth from hers and stare into her eyes. “I was kidding, babe. I’m not sharing you with anyone. Not even a hot delivery girl.”

She gives me a playful scowl. I kiss her one more time and then fall back onto my side, beside her.

She turns to face me, putting her hands under her head, a thoughtful look on her face. “Have you ever had a threesome before?” she asks.

And if that isn’t a loaded question.

“You really want me to answer?”

She nods.

“Yes.”

She doesn’t react like I thought she would. I honestly expected her to get pissed. But she still looks thoughtful.

Then, a thought occurs to me. “Have…you?”

Her lips lift at the corners. “You really want me to answer?” she tosses my words back at me.

I think for a moment. Do I want to know? Yes, if it was with another girl and guy. No, if it was with two dudes.

I don’t know why, but the thought of Morgan with two guys makes me want to punch a hole in my wall.

“Okay, just answer me this…hypothetically, if you did have a threesome…how many vaginas attended this party for three?”

She pulls her hand out from under her head and holds up one finger.

“Then, fuck no. I don’t want to know.”

She chuckles. “Are you jealous at the thought of me being with two guys?”

“Babe, I’m jealous at the thought of you being with any other guys. Jesus. Was this at Northwestern? ’Cause I was kind of under the impression that you were…”

“What?” Her eyes narrow a little.

Word this very carefully, Cross. You’re treading on thin ice here.

“You just didn’t party much. And I don’t remember you having a boyfriend at college.”

“I didn’t. And it wasn’t at Northwestern.”

“Thank God because there might have been a chance I knew the fuckers, and then I’d have to go kick the shit out of them.”

She smiles and presses her hand to my cheek. “You’re adorable.”

“I’m not adorable. I’m a total badass. We’ve had this talk already. Do I need to remind you?”

“Nope.” She presses her lips together, but her shoulders shake with laughter.

“You’re not good for my ego, you know.”

“Wild, you don’t need my help with your ego. It’s already bigger than the Grand Canyon.”

Okay, so maybe I’m a little overly confident. But I have reason to be. I’m fucking awesome.

And I like that she just called me Wild.

“Say that again,” I tell her.

“What?”

“Wild. You just called me it, and I want to hear you say it again.”

She tips her head back a touch, and feline-like eyes stare at me. “Is this for ego purposes?”

“No.” I push my hand under my head, resting on it, and stare back at her. “I just like hearing you say it.”

She wets her lips with her tongue, and my dick twitches. Then, she moves closer, pressing her hand to my cheek, her thumb dusting over my lips, her own a breath away.

“Kiss me, Wild,” she whispers.

So, I do. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her deeply, passionately…wildly.

When we finally break away, we’re both breathless.

She rests her head against my chest. I slide my fingers into her hair, massaging the back of her head.

She lets out a sound of contentment, so I keep on massaging.

“How many girlfriends have you had?” she asks against my chest.

I stop massaging. “Are we back to this? Because, honestly, babe, I have zero desire to know how many guys you’ve dated.”

“Three,” she says. “And we were never on it. I just wondered.”

Three? Did she not just hear what I said?

Fucking great. Now, I’m wondering who the hell these three guys were.

But I’m not asking. Because I’m not a masochist. Unlike a little someone who is currently plastered to my chest.

I let out a sigh and say, “None.”

Her head comes up. “None?”

“Nope.”

“How? I mean, I know you played the field in college—a lot of field—but I guess I just assumed you had at least one girlfriend after college.”

“I’ve never been interested in tying myself down to just one woman.” Until now. Until you.

“So, you’ve just spent the last nine years…like you did in college.”

“Pretty much. You’re actually the first woman I’ve had in my apartment—aside from my mom, that is. But she doesn’t count.”

“Thank God.”

She laughs, and the sound is so fucking contagious, it has me laughing, too.

“I can’t believe you’ve never brought anyone back here before.” She pauses and bites her lip. “So…why did you bring me here then?”

Crappers. She’s onto me.

“Because I wanted to.” I shrug.

“Expand,” she says.

And I know I’m not getting out of it.

I blow out a breath. “Because I wanted you here. Better?”

“A little. Why have you not brought anyone else to your apartment before?”

“Because I’ve never liked anyone enough to want them here.”

Her eyes soften. “You like me?”

“Stop fishing for compliments. You know I like you. I’ve just spent the last few days with either my cock, tongue, or fingers inside you, so I’d say, it’s pretty damn obvious by now that I like you.”

She’s smiling. “Well, it’s a good thing I like you as well.”

“You like me?” I point to my chest. “Or him?” I point down to my cock.

Even though I’m, like, ninety-five percent sure it’s me she likes, I still need to hear her say it, and this was the perfect opportunity to ask.

“You’re fishing,” she teases.

“Absolutely, I am.”

She smiles and presses her hand to my chest. “I like you. And him.” She dips her chin south.

I chuckle. “Glad to hear it.” I pull her close. “Because you sure as hell didn’t like me in college.”

She stiffens in my arms, and I figure this is the time to ask another question that’s been bugging me.

“Why was that?”

“Why was what?” she asks against my chest.

I loosen my hold on her and tip her chin up with my hand, bringing her eyes to mine.

They’re shuttered, and I don’t like it. But it doesn’t stop me from asking again.

“Why didn’t you like me in college?”

She sighs and opens her eyes. “Do we really need to go over the past?”

“No. But I would like to know.”

“Look…I guess…I just thought you were a bit of a man-whore. And I incorrectly thought that everything came easily to you. That you didn’t have to work for anything. I know different now.”

“I wish you’d known then.”

Her brows pull together. “Why?”

“Because then maybe we’d have been doing this for the last thirteen years.”

I brush my lips over hers, but she’s unresponsive. Another thing I don’t like.

“What’s wrong?”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Just…don’t say things you don’t mean.”

It’s my turn to frown. “Who says I don’t mean it?”

“Me. Your endless stream of women in college.”

“Just because I slept with a lot of women in college doesn’t mean I would’ve done it if you and I had gotten together. I’m just saying that maybe things would’ve been different if you’d given me a chance.”

I see something flash through her eyes, but it’s gone before I can get ahold of it.

“Morgan?”

“What?”

“Is this our first fight?”

She lifts her eyes to mine. I see they’ve softened back to how I like them. Just like melted chocolate.

“I’m not fighting with you, Wilder.”

“Good.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “’Cause I’m not fighting with you either. Fucking? I’m all up for that. But not fighting.”

I pull her head into my chest and kiss her hair.

She yawns, her hot breath brushing over my skin.

“Tired?” I ask her.

“Mmhmm. A little.”

“You want to get in bed?”

“Soon,” she murmurs.

But we never do make it to my bed, as we fall asleep right here, on the sofa, in each other’s arms.