The NYCE Girls!

by Raquel Belle

  “I remember perfectly,” I manage to respond unsteadily.

  Then his fingers grasp my chin and tilt my head up, forcing me to look at him. It’s so quiet, I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding in anticipation when his head lowers. He doesn’t kiss me as I expected...as I hoped. He stops and our lips hover inches apart. He’s waiting for me to give consent. Releasing a breath, I accept the inevitable and cover the distance between us. I guess we were bound to end up here again.

  Our lips graze, gently at first, and my eyes flutter closed. Then our kiss deepens…going from hesitant movements to completely ravenous. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer. My arms wind around his neck and I stand on the tips of my toes to align my body with his as our tongues dance to a sensual rhythm. The feeling of the hard angles of his body and the softness of his mouth commanding mine is almost enough to make me explode. My inner muscles clenching takes me by surprise and I pull away, staring at him wide-eyed. Well, this is a first. I’ve never almost orgasmed from a kiss and a little touching before. I didn’t even know that was possible. Then again, I haven’t had any action in four years.

  “Open the door,” Nick says, his lips glistening from our frenzied kiss. His eyes are heavy-lidded, gleaming with lust and his nostrils flare. I can tell that he’s holding on to his control by a thread. Knowing he wants me so much sends my arousal to another level. Throwing caution to the wind and thoughts about tomorrow to the back of my mind, I wheel around and fumble in my purse for my key card. I’m so anxious and horny that I can barely keep my hand steady enough to open the damn door.

  Nick plucks the card from my fingers and gets the simple task done with a much steadier hand. Inside, the key card and my purse end up on the floor because we can’t help kissing again. It’s feverous―our mouths clashing and our hands groping any body part we can reach. It’s a wild frenzy between two people who’ve fought the inevitable for too long, until Nick murmurs, “Let’s slow down.”

  He’s right, we should. I want to savor every touch. My back against the door, with his body pressed into mine, I hook a leg around his waist while he feasts on my lips much slower than before. He’s such an amazing kisser and it’s been too long since I’ve had his delicious mouth on mine. I don’t want him to ever stop. His kiss is demanding, yet gentle. His tongue stroking the inside of my mouth is just enough to have me wanting more.

  I shove his jacket from his shoulders and grind my hips against his, wanting to feel his rock hard erection against me. A low growl rumbles in his chest, resonating with pure carnal need. We both try to undress each other with our mouths still connected. I hear the zipper of my dress being pulled down before the garment drops from my shoulders and floats to the floor. He breaks our kiss and steps back when I reach for the top button of his shirt.

  Nick studies me for a moment, in nothing but a pair of nude-colored bikini panties, his eyes moving slowly over my heaving chest and downward. He reaches out to free the rest of my hair that’s in a simple half-up-half down style. My mane cascades around my shoulders, some falling to reach the middle of my back. I haven’t gotten a haircut in a while. “Just as lovely as I remembered,” he says after a pause.

  My breath hitches in my chest, and as expected, I feel heat flood my face. He takes a few strands of my hair between his fingers. “I love how you wear your hair long like this. Don’t cut it.”

  “Okay,” I readily agree, breathlessly. So, I’m never getting another haircut because Nick said not to. Feminists everywhere would be in an uproar if they knew I’m willing to forgo a much-needed haircut because a man prefers my hair long. To those feminists I say: oh freaking well. It’s Nick. At this point, I’ll do anything he says, especially if he demands it in that too sexy, deep baritone. He tells me not to cut my hair and I’m about to melt into a puddle at his feet. Ridiculous.

  My panties disappear next and now I’m standing in only my heels. “You should keep those on,” he says nodding to my feet.

  Anything you say. “Okay.”

  Stepping closer to him, I begin undoing his shirt with nimble fingers, trying to get as much of him exposed as quickly as possible so that I can feel his bare skin on mine. My palms run over his chiseled chest and abdomen with reverence. It’s been so long since I’ve been gifted with the feeling of his smooth skin over his rock hard muscles…and I don’t know if it’ll be years before I do it again. But I don’t want to think about that right now, so I pull him in for another kiss instead.

  Soon we’re both naked. My feet leave the floor and my legs instantly wrap around his waist. I know he said we should slow down, but that intense need inside of me keeps rising. “Now, Nick,” I beg, rubbing my moist heat against his bare flesh, aching for him to slide home.

  He wrenches his mouth from mine and rests his forehead against mine with an agonized groan. “Not like this, Grace. It’s been too long,” he says moving toward the bedroom.

  I feel like I’ll go up in flames before we get any further. “I can’t wait,” I pant.

  He lays me on the bed. “I have to at least make sure you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready.” I’ve been ready for four long years. Heat is flowing from my pussy like a leaking faucet, as Nick finds out when he swipes a finger at my entrance and it comes away soaked.

  “Fuck,” he groans. “Alright, we’ll go slower next time.”

  Next time? There’s going to be a next time? I hardly have time to process his words before he settles between my thighs and plunges into me. With a shocked gasp and my fingernails digging into his back, I shatter into a million pieces—a least, that’s what it feels like. I hear myself scream Nick’s name as I convulse, but it doesn’t even sound like me. Breathing rapidly with my body still trembling, I peek up at him and find him gazing down at me with surprise.

  Did that just happen? Did I really orgasm just like that? “Wow...that’s new.”

  A slow forming smile spreads across Nick’s face. “Looks like you were pretty wound up,” he says, sliding deeper into me.

  You have no idea. Fire floods my cheeks and I bury my face between his neck and shoulders as I ride the aftershocks zipping through me with each thrust of his hips. He groans my name and increases the pace, quickly causing tension to build in my core again. He moves and I gasp, finding myself on top, straddling him. The new position allows him to touch somewhere inside of me that sends shards of pleasure coursing through me like lightning. I set a moderate pace, wanting to enjoy our intimate connection for as long as possible.

  He cups my breasts, rolling my sensitive nipples between his fingers, making me shiver, and then his palms move lower to caress the rest of my torso. The heat of his palms on my skin and the friction of his hard shaft against my inner walls is driving me towards another orgasm. I can already feel that it’s going to be an intense one.

  “I can stare at you like this all night,” he hums, gazing up at me. My confidence has always been at a healthy level, but the way Nick is looking at me now makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. I don’t know how he can look at me like this and still say he’s unable to give me anything more than sex.

  Closing my eyes, I try to keep the deeper thoughts at bay. I brace my palms against his chest and ride him harder. My muscles tighten around him and I’m soaring again, my entire body tingling. His name spills from my lips as a keening cry, blending with his shout as he too erupts. I collapse on top of him, breathless and shaking. I float on a cloud of bliss for a long time, feeling like my body has finally been set free from bondage—the trappings of zero sex. Nick seems just as wasted as I am because he’s barely moved.

  Finally, I gain the strength to roll off of him. Laying beside him, staring up at the ceiling...still in my heels (I just realized), I continue basking in the after-sex bliss. Then it slowly starts to fade and panic seeps in. It’s the silence that’s causing me to think my way into a panic. But, what am I supposed to say? I enjoyed crossing the line with you for the second time. Now, let’s
pretend this didn’t happen...again. Yeah, that’s not going to fly.

  “Grace?”

  I gulp. “Hmmm?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Lost your tongue?”

  “Mhmm.”

  He laughs and it warms my insides. “I’ll give you a minute.”

  When silence stretches too long, I say, “I’m okay. Are you?” I wonder if he’s on the verge of panic like I am.

  “I’m great.”

  I guess not.

  He turns to me and our eyes meet. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re unusually quiet.”

  “I’m fine,” I chirp, but I can tell Nick knows I’m lying.

  Averting my gaze, I take a deep breath and prepare for a repeat of what happened the last time we found ourselves in this position.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nick

  I don’t buy Grace’s cheerful, “I’m fine” for a second. It’s obviously forced. I can practically see her mind galloping a thousand miles a minute in that pretty head of hers. She’s overthinking things, getting herself worked up about things she doesn’t need to be getting herself worked up about. She always does that. And that’s exactly what happened four years ago when she panicked, ran, and decided that our working relationship was too important to put at risk.

  Not that I don’t agree that our professional relationship and our friendship should be protected, but I suffered through years of torture trying to pretend that I didn’t want Grace sexually. Hell if that’s going to happen again.

  Releasing a sigh, I pull myself from my relaxed after-sex state and sit up. I wish we didn’t have to do this now. The sex was incredible and I wanted to relish in it a little longer. I’ve never been one to enjoy cuddling but I wouldn’t mind doing it with Grace. I wouldn’t mind going another round of sex either—this time much slower. I have a lot of pent up sexual energy to release. But it seems none of those things are going to happen.

  Shoving my fingers through my hair, I glance at her with a mild scowl. Her eyes are glued to the ceiling, her hair is spilled around her and her body is coated with a fine sheen of sweat from our hasty but passionate love-making. Fuck, she looks incredible. “Grace, don’t do this again.”

  Her eyes dart to my face and away again. “Do what?”

  “Make things more complicated than they need to be.”

  She closes her eyes, inhales and exhales and sits up. I find it funny how she tries to cover herself after I’ve already seen everything. I want her to be comfortable so she can hear me out, so I hop off the bed and return to the spot in the lounge area where we tore each other’s clothes off. Grabbing my shirt as well as my boxers, I return to Grace and offer her my shirt.

  She gives me a grateful look and slips it on. I could have gotten her anything else to put on, but I just wanted to see her in my clothes. As I run appreciative eyes over her, a fierce feeling of possessiveness swamps me. It isn’t the first time it’s happened, but for some reason it’s more potent this time. Taking a deep breath, I slide my boxers on.

  Not wasting another second, I dive right into the conversation we obviously need to have. “Grace, I didn’t use a condom.” And bare-backing it had been incredible. I’m not ashamed and surprisingly not at all worried. If I’d slipped up and made that mistake with any other woman, I would have freaked out a little. Arms folded and staring at her…I realize that my trust for Grace and comfort with her is on an even higher level than I thought.

  She covers her face with her hands and groans. “Way to ease into the conversation.”

  I shrug. “How could I have possibly eased into that? It is what it is, and I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

  She sends me a pained look and begins nibbling her fingernails. I realize that my stance isn’t helping, I’m towering over her, arms folded and legs apart as if I’m about to cross-examine her. I never said I was any good at this. This is precisely why I’m not in a relationship. Relaxing, I take a seat beside her to come off less imposing. “Do we need to be worried?”

  “Look, it’s not your fault, Nick. It takes two to tango and I was right there with you. But, yeah. I’m not on any birth control.”

  “Really? You’ve never mentioned that.”

  Grace rounds on me with a look of disbelief. “Why would I tell you that?”

  “You tell me everything,” I shrug.

  “Clearly not everything. We’re close but not that close.”

  “I beg to differ,” I drawl, my eyes dipping to the tempting view of her breasts and outlined nipples under the thin material of my shirt. My mouth practically waters at the sight. The thought of sliding my tongue over the beaded flesh…of feeling their weight in my hands. As focused as I pride myself on being in any situation, when it comes down to it, I’m just a man—tempted to the point of distraction by the sight of breasts.

  “Oh, my God,” she groans. “Can this get anymore embarrassing?”

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I don’t know why I assumed you were on birth control,” I murmur absently, still trying to sneak a peek at anything that I can through the shirt.

  “Why would I be? The only action I’ve seen in years is sloppy kiss Chester’s tongue down my throat.”

  Just about every muscle in my body tenses up. I always thought men were neanderthals for the jealous rage they flew into when another man so much as even looked at their woman. I always laughed at their stupidity. It isn’t funny anymore...I totally get it now. “Who the hell is Chester?”

  Grace gapes at me as if I’ve suddenly transformed into something other-worldly. “How is that relevant?”

  “It just is,” I bite out.

  “He’s the disastrous blind date. Okay?”

  “And you kissed him? You didn’t tell me that—”

  “I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me...and what does it matter now?”

  Shaking my head, I return to my senses. “You’re right. I’m sorry. What do we do to ensure that we won’t get a surprise in nine months?” Her wide green eyes are fixed on me and Grace’s jaw slackens. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable but you know I always tackle things head on.”

  “Yeah, I know, but don’t you think now is the time for a little more tact?” She hisses and sends me a withering glare that makes me want to smile. I can’t help it if I find a pissed off Grace sexy as fuck. One of the things I’ve always respected about her is her backbone to stand up to me when necessary. There aren’t many people that do.

  “You’re right. I apologize.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Are you patronizing me?”

  “You know I wouldn’t.”

  Her anger seems to seep away and she nods, rubbing her forehead. “Of course, I know,” she sighs. “I’m a little on edge.”

  “A little?”

  “A lot. I mean, I just slept with my boss again and we didn’t use protection and now we have to discuss things that I really don’t want to...”

  Reaching for her hand, I stroke the back of it comfortingly. “You can relax. Forget that we work together for a minute. It’s you and me. It’s safe to say we can talk about anything no matter how uncomfortable, and we’ll be fine.”

  She exhales, her shoulders relaxing as she nods. “You’re right.” Staring at our connected hands, she says, “You don’t have to worry about any surprises down the line. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Emergency contraceptive?”

  “Oh, my God, Nick,” she moans, her entire face red. “If you must know, yes.”

  I lift a shoulder, finding her embarrassment unnecessary. “And are we okay?”

  “After the sex? Of course. We had sex once before and we were fine.”

  “Twice.”

  Her eyes fly up to meet mine and they swirl with confusion. “What?”

  “We had sex twice in the same night four years ago.”

  “Thank you so much for that piece of information. Lord knows we must be accurate at all times.” Sarcasm
is heavy in her tone and I swallow a laugh. Humor shines in Grace’s eyes briefly and I watch it disappear to be replaced by uncertainty. “Nick?”

  “Yes, Grace?”

  A ghost of a smile touches her lips. “You always answer me like that. I like it. It’s strangely comforting.”

  I lift a brow, wondering what’s so great about it, but I don’t comment. She sighs. “I know I said we’d be okay, but I’m not so sure. Things are going to be super weird between us this time, I can already feel it.”

  Still stroking her hand, I tell her, “Nothing has to change. We’ll go on as usual with work. We’re both adults, Grace. I’m sure we can maintain our usual level of professionalism.” I could care less about professionalism right now, but I have to reassure her.

  “Just like that, huh?”

  “Just like that.” Of course, I have no intention of going back to keeping my hands to myself, but she doesn’t need to know that just yet. As she said, she’s on edge, and I don’t want to make things worse. “I don’t regret what we did…just like I didn’t the first time around. Do you?”

  She turns to me so that I can see the sincerity in her eyes. “No.”

  It’s a major relief, but I’m still bothered by the sliver of fear I detect behind her little smile…until she shrugs and says, “Well…it’s not like I can get any more pregnant…if I already am. We might as well get it out of our systems. What happens in Paris?”

  I know I’m supposed to answer stays in Paris—instead I just pull her mouth to mine…

  ***

  I watch Grace keenly as she steps in to the office, taking in everything about her, especially her expression, which seems schooled into a neutral mask. I know she’s working overtime to appear untroubled. She’s wearing some waist high, long pants with a stylish purple silk top tucked in. I prefer her in dresses because if I were to start something in the office it would be easier to slip my hands under a dress...or hike it up around her waist.