Christy

Wednesday comes and goes and I find myself ever more intrigued about the Wilde family dinner. What did I miss out on at last night’s meal at the ranch? What would it be like, being part of a family that big? Having that many people who know everything there is to know about you? Having that many people who know your flaws and love you anyway? I can’t decide if it would be unnerving or comforting. Chet said I could come at any time, but family time is sacred. I’m not at all comfortable barging in on that, no matter how much it piques my curiosity.

Today, Chet came to my house for dinner—homemade beef stew and fresh baked bread that he went back for seconds and then thirds for. While I’m putting the leftovers in the fridge, he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “What are you thinking about, beautiful?”

I lean my head back on his chest. “Your family.”

“That’s not at all the answer I was hoping for.” He nuzzles behind my ear, sliding my hair off my shoulder to kiss the delicate skin at the back of my neck.

I close my eyes and tilt my head, allowing him more room to work. “What answer were you hoping for?”

“I wanted you to be thinking about me.” Chet kisses along my jaw, his hands sliding up my hips and along my waist.

“Believe me. I’m always thinking about you.” I moisten my lips. “Always.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now.” His breath whispers past my ear.

“I’m thinking I like it when you touch me.”

Chet runs his hands up my ribs, his fingers grazing the sides of my breasts. “Like this?”

I nod my approval. “I like that very much.”

“What else are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I want you to touch me some more.”

He bites lightly into my shoulder and cups my breast. “Like this?” he asks before he kisses his way back up my jawline.

“Yes. Exactly like that.” Desire warms my core and I squeeze my thighs together, desperate for friction.

“What else are you thinking?” Chet’s voice is low and intimate.

“I’m thinking I want you.” I turn and grab him by the belt. “Now.”

Chet looks at my hand before looking back at me, lust darkening his gaze. I walk backward out of the kitchen, leading him by the belt into the living room where I sit down on the couch and run my hands across the bulge in his jeans.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

I undo his buckle and then pull down his zipper. “I promise you’ll like it,” I say sweetly as I reach into his pants and wrap my hand around the base of his cock.

He moans and closes his eyes while I pull him out and run my finger across the crown of his dick. Pleasure streaks across his face and it turns me on more than I could have imagined. My pussy throbs and aches, begging for attention. I swipe my tongue across his tip, teasing him, needing him to look down at me because I want his eyes on mine when I take him to the back of my throat. I want to watch his reaction, to see if his lips part or his nostrils flare. I want to see him want me.

The moment his gaze settles on mine, I slide him past my lips and suck gently. While I bob my head along his length, I lower his pants and boxer briefs off his hips and push them down his thighs before bringing one hand to grip the base of his shaft and the other to lightly cup his balls.

Chet stares down at me, hunger burning in his eyes. That’s all the encouragement I need. I lick and suck until he finally speaks up. “You have to stop.” His voice is little more than a growl. “It feels so good.”

“Why does that mean I have to stop?” I drag my tongue along his shaft, staring up at him as his cock leaves a wet streak along my face.

“Because I don’t get to come unless you do.” He steps back, kicking his jeans out of the way. “That’s just the way it ought to be.” He takes my hand and helps me to my feet, stepping in close to me before he pulls my shirt over my head and discards it on the floor.

“I didn’t realize there were rules,” I say.

“Oh, believe me. There are rules.”

I grip his cock and slide my hand along his length as he pulls one breast from my bra and takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks. When Chet helps me out of my jeans and slides a finger into my panties, I shiver at the contact.

“I love how wet you get for me.” Chet pulls his hand away and sucks his finger clean. “I knew you’d taste so sweet.” He hooks his fingers in my panties and slides them down. “Sit,” he says, indicating the couch.

I lower myself to the cushion and he crouches in front of me, spreads my legs, and scoots my hips to the edge of the couch. He kisses one knee, working his way up my inner thigh. When he gets to the apex, he drags his tongue along my slit and I drop my head back, overwhelmed with sensation. He sucks and licks and I moan. My body writhes against my will. With his fingers inside me, I groan, making a noise that would embarrass me if I was with anyone else. With Chet, though, the sound feels natural. I can drop my inhibitions and be real for him.

He brings his mouth to my clit and an orgasm explodes through my body. Instead of slowing down as my muscles clench around his fingers, Chet speeds up, sucking my button into his mouth. The orgasm whips out of control and I scream, my hips bucking and rocking uncontrollably. I lift my head and grip his hair, staring down at his face between my legs as my body convulses around him.

As stars dance at the corners of my vision, he pulls back, reaches for his jeans, and retrieves a condom from his pocket. I watch hungrily as he slides it on. He sits next to me and holds out a hand, helping steady me as I straddle him and lower myself onto his cock. My receding orgasm flares back to life and I whimper in pleasure as he fills me.

“Ride me, Christy. I want to watch you come all over my dick.”

I roll my hips and he finally unhooks my bra, freeing my breasts so he can squeeze, lick, suck, nip, bite them. I move until I can’t anymore, until my climax is so strong that all of the muscles in my body clench and tighten and freeze. “Please,” I murmur.

“Please what, baby?”

“Please fuck me.” I beg Chet with my eyes. I need him to take over because I have lost all ability to think or move. All I can do is feel. Chet grips my hips and thrusts into me, creating the last bit of friction I need to totally and completely fall over the edge. I howl his name as he thrusts again and again until finally, he comes with a shout, his eyes locked on mine, his hands gripping my ass.

* * *

After taking some time to clean up, I pour us each one finger of bourbon and then have a seat next to him on the couch. “I know you don’t like to drink and drive, but after what you just did to me, I’m pretty sure you earned yourself a reward.” I smile as he takes the glass.

“Well, cheers to that,” he says, with a nod.

I clink my drink against his and sip at the amber liquid. He lifts an arm, offering me a spot to snuggle in close, and then wraps his arm around my shoulder when I do.

“Would you mind if I called Julie sometime?” I ask after a few minutes. “As of right now, you’re the only person I really know out here and I thought it might be a good idea for me to start putting down some roots.”

Chet shifts to meet my gaze. “Why in the world would I mind if you called your friend?”

I blink, surprised by the question. “I don’t know. Habit I guess.”

Chet nods knowingly, closing his eyes as understanding dawns across his face. “Mark didn’t like you hanging out with anyone but him, did he?”

“Nope. He definitely did not.” I sigh and sit up. “He systematically destroyed every friendship I ever had.” I’m still embarrassed to admit that I let all these things happen. Now, looking back, it’s so clear what he was doing to me.

Chet takes a drink and then sets the glass on the end table beside the couch. “I have no right to tell you who to be friends with, nor would I want to. I want you firmly rooted in place. Right here.”

I suck in my lips. “I know you’re not Mark…” I begin.

Chet nods. “And I know old habits are hard to break,” he says. “Why don’t you make plans to meet her for lunch over the weekend? Catch up and see if you can rekindle that old friendship? The only thing I ask is that you avoid Wednesday evening.”

I furrow my brows. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because, I gave you a standing invitation to the Wilde family dinner, but I expect you’ll still wait to be invited. So please, consider this your formal invitation to dinner.”

I smile as a little tremor of excitement works its way through my body. “Are you sure?”

“That’s a question I should be asking you. Are you sure you’re ready for the insanity?”

“Am I sure? If the rest of your family is anything like you or Gabe, I’m dying to see what a Wilde Wednesday meal is like.”

“You say that now,” Chet says as he picks up his glass from the table. “But that’s because you don’t know what you’re getting into.”