The Wilder Women Novels & Stories

The air in the small room was suddenly too hot, thick with the leftover scent of her own perfume and the lime from the tequila shots. A deeper thrust followed, and then Lena heard it. A breathless, high-pitched female whimper. He wasn't alone. The realization hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. She knew he had women. He was Caleb Maddox. He could have anyone he wanted with a single look. But hearing it was different. Hearing the way he sounded when he was inside someone else made Lena’s vision blur. Her hand drifted under the sheet, resting on her stomach as she stared at the dark ceiling.

“Yeah. You know—nature, trees, breathing the air instead of caffeine fumes.” I looked at him flatly. “You’re aware this is how a lot of true crime documentaries start, right? Mysterious musician lures woman into woods under the guise of ‘fresh air.’ Spoiler alert: it’s not fresh air, it’s her final breath.” Teddy chuckled. “Wow. You really do read a lot.” “I’m just saying, I need more than ‘let’s hike’ before I wander into the wilderness with a man who plays guitar and has fan girls stroking his biceps at bars.”

I didn't know what kind of contract had been attached to it, but there were so many words that I didn't even want to read it. "Then just write down both your names and mine, and it's all done," Jared said, still on the line with me. I immediately scrolled to the final page of the document and filled in the blanks as quickly as I could. Suddenly, Jared began to chuckle under his breath. I genuinely still couldn't understand how his temperament could change so easily like that. All of a sudden, my computer shook violently, and its screen turned pink. Then, I heard a robotic female voice say, "Congratulations on completing the contract mission! You have successfully formed a bond with your targ

She asks she with crossed arms I guess she's right. "My name is Hanna" I decide to tell her as I give in "Hanna Wilder" she says my name which causes my body to feel tingly all over Whoa. What was that? I stand up straighter to try and hide this feeling. My ex-boyfriend never made me feel like that. "Pretty name" she says as she tucks a strand of her black hair behind her ear Her eyes never stray away from mine as she does so.

He nipped his way up my neck until he reached my ear and whispered, “You’re bad, Brenda. You’re bad and I fucking love it.” “I prefer wild,” I breathed out, finishing on a moan. “You’re bad and you’re wild.” He picked up his pace. “You’re my wild, tempting bitch. Don’t go soft on me.” I laughed, my fists clenching above my head. “Never.” And when I cummed, it was hard and it was wild.

Ade asked, onyx eyes darting between the racing woman and bible boy. “How often does she do this?” Dodge asked, his own black stud trotting up beside Trotter; his black locks still wet from his own bath in the river. Dodge had only caught a glimpse, and it was entirely by accident, of the wildfire which now raced ahead of them and could hardly believe that a woman that young looked so much like a goddess. “Enough,” Thomas replied dryly, pulling Dodge from his thoughts that made Dodge readjust himself in his saddle. “You make this sound as if you never go after her,” Wayne added in. Cassidy and Misty now almost unseen, the glare from the unrelenting sun not helping.

Wilder If life were a circus, I always imagined women as the beautiful and notorious ringleaders. Mischievous and charming enough to make men jump through hoops of fire, but now I've found a second type of woman—the crazy one who tells you to hold her beer before she jumps through the ring of fire by herself. Daria Withers is that type of woman—fearless, beautiful, and daring, like a lioness, even though she is supposedly a nun. Damn, I can't believe I kissed nun! Our kiss must have been Daria's first experience with a man if she is a real nun, yet she blew my mind.

“Well, we haven’t had any trouble filling up the slots. We’ve got a new group coming in tomorrow. Three smart, young professional women from San Francisco. They’re driving, should be here by three or four. Another group of three out of LA. They’re coming in by private plane and plan to land in Weaverville. They have a rental car waiting, so they might show up earlier. They all work in the movie industry, but not as actors. Their reservation info said they’re into the production end of things. We’ll need to be careful around them. They might be more in tune with the weird and wonderful, and we can’t risk them finding out what we are.” “Which is why Feral Passions is the perfect venue for a lo

Odette looked at her for a long, long moment. "Well," the old woman said at last. Something almost warm went through her face and was gone. "There's a Luna in there after all." "Don't," Sloane said. "I hate her." "Yes," Odette agreed. "That's rather the point of duty." Fifty miles east, in a room with a drain in the floor, Maya watched Wilder's fingers curl against the concrete. Don't move, she thought, hard, throwing it down the bond like a stone into a well. Don't you dare move, he's got twelve men and you can't even stand—

RAVEN The "Red Barn" was a place on the edge of our land. It wasn't fancy. It smelled of dry hay, old leather, and woodsmoke. Tonight, it belonged to the women. Specifically, the women who weren't born into our pack. The rogues. I sat on a hay bale, holding a jar of something that smelled like fermented apples and lightning. Around me sat five women. They had scars on their arms and hard looks in their eyes. They had lived in the wild, running from hunters and cruel Alphas, until they found us.