Nothing But Wild (Malibu University 2)

“Water polo metaphors…now?”

“Yeah, babe.” He looks up at me with a lazy smile, expression content. His hands get back to work. Petting my butt, running up and down my legs. A shiver shoots up my back and I’m panting all over again.

Threading my fingers through his unruly hair, I lower my mouth on his for a brief kiss. They’re mine now, his kisses, and I’m going to take as many as I can get while I can. He falls backward on the bed and takes me with him. His erection pinned between us, against my body. I immediately get excited, curious. I’m desperate to see him, to touch him, to explore him like a foreign land, to discover him all at once and savor him slowly.

Rolling us over, he gets off and leaves me on my back to watch. The robe slips open as he stands, revealing what’s been hiding underneath. As suspected, he’s perfect everywhere. His erection, which is long and thick, strains toward his belly. He grips himself and the head grows glossier each time he pumps. Then I notice he’s completely bare. And as I stare in wonder, an army of red ants crawl over me.

He pushes the robe off his shoulders and stands at the foot of the bed in all his naked glory for me to enjoy.

“Do you want to touch me?” He says it honestly, genuinely offering himself to me. And my heart goes out to him. He’s such a giver that I couldn’t have chosen a better partner to do this with.

“Yes,” I immediately return, and he smiles softly.

“Is this your first time?”

“Yes.”

After a meaningful pause, he walks over to his duffel bag and returns with a handful of condoms, places them on the nightstand. My stomach flips. This is really happening.

Dallas crawls onto the bed and lies on his back. “Touch me however you want,” he says, looking me in the eyes. Probably searching for signs that I’m having second thoughts. His next words confirm it. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop. Just say so. It doesn’t matter when. I won’t be mad, okay? Just say stop and we’ll stop.”

Wild horses couldn’t stop me. The sight of this man laying himself out for me makes me wonder what heavenly lottery I’ve won. I’m not a lucky girl typically, and it feels like I bagged the most important prize life has to offer.

The turban falls off my head, and he throws the damp towel on the floor. Then he tugs the ends of my long wet hair, playing with it. The encouraging smile on his face makes me love him even more. Because I do––I love him. This is love. This is what the real deal feels like.

My hand wraps around the base of his erection and I stoke him like he did to himself. Face set in stone, he exhales harshly, and says, “Grip tighter.” Then he covers my hand with his and guides me. With each stroke, he unravels a little bit more––and with that, I get bolder. My mouth is on him before I can issue a warning and a strangled cry comes out of him, all six feet plus bowing off the bed.

“A-Am I hurting you?” I ask, coming up for air.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, no. No, babe. That was perfect. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

So I get back to doing what makes him unravel, keeping my eyes closed at all times. Less than a minute later he pushes me off.

“No more. I won’t last another minute with you doing that.” Getting up on his knees, he looks down and pushes my robe open. I’m past feeling insecure about my hips, about the lack definition on my belly, about the soft roll of skin on my sides.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His nostrils flare and his face looks momentarily pained. Slowly, he reaches for me. His touch reverent and his attention enthralled.

This man who’s had the beautiful girls with the perfect makeup. The natural ones who look like models. The girls into style. The athletes with their toned arms and legs. He’s had them all. And yet he’s looking at me as if I’m all he’s ever wanted. I don’t feel even a little bit jealous. Those girls may have come first, but this time finishing last is the one who wins. I’m the one he chose to let in. I’m the one here now.

His mouth covers my nipple and I whimper. His hand strokes between my legs and I press into it. He gives and I take. I ask for more and he gives more. The trail of kisses moves down. Onto my tattoo. Dropping further until I feel his breath on my clit…then is tongue…then his lips. An orchestrated attack on my senses. Primed for months, I come immediately.