Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

For the ones who were told their dreams were too dreamy but who went on to make them come true anyway. And for my awful high school English teacher, Mr. C, who looked me in the eye at sixteen years old and told me I’d never be a good writer. Thanks for the motivation.

And that voice? It’s the furthest thing from girlish. That voice is all grown-up. It’s not giddy or overly bright. It’s all honey and spice, smooth with a hint of heat—borderline sensual without even trying.

“Oh, tonight? Tonight is just our meet-cute. It’s the night we’ll tell our kids about one day. Remember?”

To the outside observer, it would appear that I’m staring at the guy I showed up here with. But they would be wrong. I’m staring at his dad.

“The fuck did you just say to her?” Bash’s voice is cold as ice from across the table.

Clyde nods. “Oh, you’re right. His crown chakra is fucked.” Bash glares at his friend. “Why are you pretending you know anything about the crown chakra?” “Gwen told me about the chakras yesterday. She said one has to do with enlightenment. And you are certainly not acting very enlightened.”

“This is so selfless, so brave. You’re giving him a piece of yourself. Do you not see how deeply generous this is?” “For fuck’s sake,” Bash growls. “You’re killing me.”

All I know is that the first thing that comes to mind is, If I live, I’m coming after you.

“Careful what you wish for, Gwen. I’ve got a laundry list of ways I’d like to watch you work for it, and none of them involve poker.”

“The thing is, Gwen, next time you want to watch me, you should just ask.”

“Or what? You might man up and take something for yourself for once?” I snap. I take something for myself for once. My hands dart out and grip Gwen’s waist. “You know what?” I snarl, yanking her toward me, staring at her plush mouth as her lips softly part—no doubt to say something infuriating. But I don’t let her get a word in edgewise. “Fuck it,” I mutter. Then I kiss her.

“That he was a fool to let you get away. But that it was just as well because I could fuck you better.”

“Wow,” I sigh. Because no other word seems to do this view justice. “This is beautiful.” “Yeah. It is,” Bash agrees. But when I turn back to face him, he’s not looking out the window. He’s looking at me.

“What I should have done months ago” is all I say. Then I grip the back of her neck, drag her mouth to mine, and kiss her. I’m met with zero resistance—only shock.

“What about Tripp?” I hold her gaze but reach forward and flick open the button on her jeans. “He’ll have to get over it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Because I’ll never forgive myself if I let you get away again.”

She hooks a finger under the waist, ready to pull them off too, but I reach forward to stop her. “Leave ’em. I can’t wait. I’ll pull them to the side.”

“Tight as fuck,” I grit out, moving my hips in tandem with hers. “I love you like this.” “Like what?” she murmurs, entranced. “All mine.” Our eyes meet in the dim cockpit. “I am.” And fuck, it’s music to my ears. “Mine,” I repeat, increasing the speed of my shallow thrusts. “All yours,” she whispers, pulling me in for another kiss, clenching and releasing my girth as she does.

All I can see is her. All I can feel is her. All I can taste is her. I’m fucking drowning in her and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Fuck, fuck!” she cries out again, and it’s too loud. I reach forward, cupping a hand over her mouth. “Gwen, baby, I need you to be quiet. You can scream for me later. But right now, I need you to shut your mouth and take this cock like the good girl I know you can be.”

“You’re a fucking wild card. Unpredictable and never what I expect. You scare the hell out of me every damn day. But today more than any of them. Because I thought I lost you.” His voice cracks. So does my heart. “And I love you, and I hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell you.”

“Never scare me like that again. Never.” Tears tumble over my cheeks as I nod quickly. “I love you too. I do. I have for a long time. And I promise I won’t ever scare you like that again. I promise.”

“You’re my limes, Bash. I’m the tequila. You and me? We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives making margaritas, okay?”

I breathe him in. I breathe my anxiety out. I breathe him in. I breathe my doubt out. I breathe him in. I breathe my fears out.