I pump like a madman, sweat breaking out over my skin, fucking her into the mattress as she cries out in ecstasy, her walls tightening and tightening until she gasps and lets out an uncontrolled moan that seems to take over her body as her torso arches and she comes…on my cock.

“Oh my fuck!” she yells, her pussy squeezing me so goddamn tight that my legs go numb. All my pleasure pools at the base of my spine, and with one final thrust against her squeezing me, I come, spilling inside her.

“Fuck,” I shout and then still, letting my cock spasm inside her. It takes a few seconds for us to both come back to reality, but when we do, I lift up to look her in the eyes and say, “That was fucking phenomenal. Jesus, Scottie.”

Her eyes are heady, and swollen lips smile up at me before she reaches up and kisses me once more.

I sigh into her kiss and make out with her, because I can tell you right now, this woman, with one night together, has me wrapped around her goddamn finger. I want her world to be rocked. I want her insane with pleasure.

So that’s what I’ll do…ensure she’s sated beyond her wildest dreams but also instilled with all the confidence she deserves.

Chapter Twenty-Two

SCOTTIE

“You okay?” Wilder asks as he slips under the sheets and moves in right behind me, pulling my back into his chest.

“Perfect,” I answer. Because I am, I feel…perfect. I feel like I’m on top of the world. I feel like this black cloud that has been hovering over my head for God knows how long has been lifted and I can finally see the light.

I’ve never felt so beautiful before.

I’ve never felt so wanted.

I’ve never felt so needed.

And within one night, Wilder changed all that.

Sex with him is so incredibly different from anything I ever experienced with Matt. Not that I need to compare the two, because there’s a giant difference between the two men—and I mean giant—but it’s the way Wilder handled me that truly has set them apart.

“You know, you didn’t have to slip a shirt on. You could have slept naked,” he mumbles into my ear.

“I’m wearing your shirt.”

“I know. It’s the only reason why I’m not pitching a fit.”

I chuckle, the lightness in my chest a direct reflection of him. “I also didn’t want to assume anything by sleeping naked.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asks, his hand sliding under my shirt and right to my stomach.

My stomach hollows for a moment, because I’m so not used to this. I’m not used to this sort of attention. His touch. His constant need to hold me.

“Well, you know, we had sex⁠—”