Girl-Nerds Like it Faster (Erotic Romance) Book 2 (Girl-Nerd Series)

by Dunning, Rachel

  "No," I said forcefully.

  Nathan frowned. Then smiled. "OK. No means no. Rule number five. I respect that."

  I ruffled his hair. "You and your fucking rules!"

  He tightened his grip around my waist. A little moisture escaped me. Just a little. I exhaled loudly.

  "Ready for the next round?" he said.

  I rolled my eyes, incredulous at how many times I'd come already, and how explosively. One thing was sure, with Nathan in the room, I came almost by just looking at him. "I'm more than ready."

  He moved in to kiss my neck. Then he whispered in my ear. "Soon, darling. Let's talk a little first, OK?"

  Talk? No, no. That wasn't part of the deal!

  "Go and jump in the shower for me, sweetheart. I want you to be fresh and smelling like roses when I next lick your pussy. Oh, and by the way, there's something I'd like you to wear, on the bed."

  He lifted me off the counter and swooped down to kiss me as I landed on the cold floor. He grazed a finger across my center as he did it, then tickled my inner walls. My nerves fired up and blistered again for need of him.

  "Go on then," he said, slapping me once on the ass.

  I was so hot for him. So hot.

  Then I saw what he had for me on the bed... I almost skipped the shower and just jumped him.

  -9-

  In the shower I let the warm water ease the gentle ache my crotch had started feeling from the more-than-usual activity within it. Nathan Lockwood really was big, very big. The connectors of our body weren't a hundred percent compatible, but he satisfied me in ways I never thought possible.

  When I got out the shower there was now a note on the lingerie he'd prepared for me, all in my size, just as the earlier lingerie had been. I picked up the note.

  No panties.

  I fanned myself with it. "Goddamn it, this guy is relentless."

  I wiped myself off and let my hair dangle at my shoulders. My legs had small bruises on them, some on the ankles from where he'd held me earlier. Also on my thighs. I bruise when people sneeze on me, so just having them meant someone had done more than just sneezed. It meant someone had held me, held me hard, like I meant something to them.

  It made me feel wanted, needed.

  I slid on the long-sleeve sheer gloves. Black. Everything Nathan ever bought me was black. Then I put on the lace-up merry-widow. Its gathered-up hem whispered across my thighs. I put on the garter belt, the thigh-highs with eyelets down the middle of each leg. There was make-up on a dresser as well. He'd left the box open with black mascara and black eyeshadow. He hadn't asked me to put this on but I remembered him looking at me at that party when I'd worn exactly that.

  I put it on.

  I walked out of his master bedroom and into the lounge, nothing but blood-burning lingerie on me, ready to be ripped off by him like my dress had been. My internal thermostat was ready to burst. Warm liquid soothed my crotch as I walked in, trembling with trepidation, but also high on confidence, because this man wanted me. And only me. At least for now.

  Nathan sat on the couch across his glass table, legs crossed, his slacks back on. His hair was wet so he'd clearly also taken a shower in the main bathroom. In his hand was a huge brandy glass, liquid swirling as he looked at me. I stood there for him to gaze at, his eyes widening. He shuffled once, kicked a loafer off. Then he crossed his other leg. His bulge was unmistakable. Whether he'd been hard all along or gotten hard since I'd walked in, I didn't know.

  I smiled, looked down, then back at him. I eased a lock behind my ear, feeling both coy and self-assured at the same time.

  "Sit," he said, croaking just a bit. I sat on the other couch, knees together, tense and unsure of what to do. I was warm but I knew it had nothing to do with the fire, even though Nathan had stoked it and it raged just a few feet away from me. I wondered what the time was. It felt like I'd never need sleep again. All I wanted was to be with him, to have him look at me, examine me, touch me.

  Be inside me.

  I sighed loudly.

  "Still nervous around me?" he asked.

  I hadn't told him directly I was nervous around him... But I had been, earlier. I pondered the question a second. "No, I don't think so." My voice seemed suddenly so meek compared to his.

  "You shouldn't be," he rumbled, "you have a hold on me the likes of which I've never felt before with a woman."

  A woman. I'd never thought of myself as that. I'd turned twenty in February. But I think adulthood has little to do with age, it has to do with the decision to be an adult. I realized in that room that I hadn't actually taken that decision yet. Not consciously, at least.

  I sat back, stretched my arms on the back of the couch, crossed my legs, all the while keeping my legs tight together.

  Nathan smirked, shuffled in his seat.

  "I thought Rule One was no alcohol," I said with a cocky attitude. I wanted him to know that I wanted the rules to apply to both of us.

  "This is not alcohol," he said. "It only looks like it."

  I was confused.

  "Recovering alcoholic," he said. "This is grape juice. It only looks like brandy. It's like the ex-smokers who puff on candy cigarettes."

  "Oh. how long — ? Oh, sorry." I held my hand up, remembering that damned no questions rule!

  "Seven years," Nathan said. "I was twenty-six when I stopped, young and wild, had it all going for me. My momma grabbed me by the ears, literally, and my family ran an intervention back on our ranch in Texas. My older brother socked me one in the jaw when I got cocky with momma, right there in the middle of the intervention. Then he kicked me once in the ribs, just to make sure I was listening. It woke me up. I realized I'd gone off the rails, disrespecting my family and all."

  Whoa, talk about tough-love!

  "So, I quit. Just like that. Craziest fucking time of my life. Took me a month before I could stand in the sun without shivering."

  I stared at him in amazement for a while before I realized he'd stopped talking. "Thank you, um, for...well, for answering."

  "I told you, questions are OK so long as they don't get in the way of us fucking.

  "Layla, I'm afraid I'm more than a little taken by you..."

  He took a sip, watching for my reaction.

  A long silence crushed the room.

  "Yes?" I finally prompted.

  He thought, then decided to drop that last point. "Go ahead, ask me something else."

  "Do you live here? I mean permanently?"

  "No. But I own this house. I do a lot of business here. Next."

  "What kind of business?"

  "Geek shit, high-level network setup, etcetera. I was doing some work at the university, checking out their network security, and, well..." He blushed. "I can't say I was at that college party innocently." He sipped his glass.

  "I see..."

  "You see? Look, I'm male, I — "

  "No, no, I don't care why you were at the party." My mind drifted. "It's just that...you're...a nerd?"

  "Not a nerd. A geek. Very different."

  "You know I'm majoring in Computer Science, don't you?"

  "Why, no I didn't!" His eyes widened.

  I forced my mind away from the crap I could feel it was tricking me into: The idea of fate and destiny and all that bullshit! I asked another question. "Why did you choose me?"

  "I didn't 'choose' you. You're not a 'prize' or something. You looked fucking hot at that party. I was horny. Next."

  I looked away, clenched my teeth.

  "You don't believe me?" he asked.

  Nope, I didn't. I was plain Jane, skin as pale as a corpse, bruising at the slightest touch. No tits. Zero appeal in the face, shit-brown hair.

  "You have a certain...appeal," he continued. "An intangible 'something' that makes you the most alluring thing I've ever come across in all my years. And then..." He coughed, took a sip of his non-brandy. "Well, then there's the unbelievable confidence you have in the bedroom." Pause. "You're a siren to me. My o
wn personal siren. You ooze appeal and enticement. I feel light-headed around you, and I haven't a fucking clue why."

  I looked down, at my hands, at my lap, my face burning with lack of composure.

  "Thank..." — I cleared my throat — "thank you."

  Another deafening silence.

  Nathan took a final sip of his drink, put the glass down, sat back, opening his legs so I could see his full-fledged hard-on.

  I exhaled, looked at the mantel. It was getting easier and easier for him to set my skin on fire, and get my juices flowing.

  I peeked askance at his manhood, trying to hold my smirk, trying to hide the idea that I wanted to taste him again, to put him inside my mouth until he growled with throes of ecstatic pleasure at my tongue's caress.

  "Open your legs," he ordered.

  I hesitated for only a second, more in my mind than in an actually tangible span of time. I did as he asked, uncrossing my left leg from my right, spreading, slowly, watching as his cock twitched behind his slacks with every calculated move I made. I stretched, opened, welcoming him.

  I gushed once, warming my center with enough liquid to fit him all inside me, his hugeness, without the slightest discomfort. My insides expanded. My stomach clenched.

  Than my legs trembled, quivered. A nervous anticipation for whatever might happen next, whatever this man would command.

  He looked at me, stared at my bare crotch with a smile and I opened as wide as I could.

  He grabbed his brandy glass, walked to the kitchen and poured some more of his grape juice in it, no doubt wishing it had more of a kick, then came over to me. He put the tip of his index finger in the grape juice, then moved it to my lips, touched them. Immediately my tongue fired out to lick the juice off his fingers, but he flinched away, and shook his finger at me: No, it said.

  "You just stay there," he said. "Say nothing, do nothing."

  He dipped his finger in the juice again, touched it to my upper lip. It trembled. He smiled. His cock was at my eye level. I saw it twitch, jerk. I clutched the back of the sofa and inhaled a ragged breath.

  "Scoot forward, just enough so your pussy is a little off the couch." I did it, feeling the sweat of anticipation all over my skin but especially on my bare ass as it moved across the leather couch.

  "Keep your hands on the back of the couch. Don't move them."

  His cock twitched again. The position of my hands put a strain on my shoulders as my vag leaned, just slightly, over the edge of the couch.

  He dipped his finger in the grape juice again, then the middle finger, swirled it, moved the glass — his fingers still in it — down to my crotch.

  He lifted his fingers to just above my clit, ready for the drops to fall...

  I waited, rasping breaths escaping me.

  One drop fell, an absolute boulder of it, right on the center, on my electrified and over-sensitive nub.

  "Hah!" I gasped.

  Another drop fell, an avalanche of sensation. I breathed out in rapid gasps. "My god." The words had escaped without my will.

  He dipped his fingers in the drink, hung them above my clit...

  "Oh god," I cried as another drop slammed into me. Then a second. A third.

  He did it again.

  Again.

  I hyperventilated, my triceps burned, my legs quivered.

  "Layla, I want you all for myself," he said, standing, slowly twirling his fingers in his drink.

  "Tell me you're mine."

  "I'm yours."

  "Say it like you mean it."

  "I'm yours, baby. I'm all yours."

  My eyes clutched closed. I couldn't take this anymore. All of me below had tensed... I was... I was... Oh my god. I smiled.

  "What is it, dear?"

  I let out a sobbing laugh. "I think...Jesus! I think I'm going to... Oh my god, oh my god!"

  The shakes and trembles had barely started when Nathan unzipped his massive cock out and threw me back on the couch. I was coming already! On the verge of total explosion as he slid his weighty manhood into me. I screamed with pleasure. It fell in, no tightness, no tension, just oozed into me and filled me up fractions of a second before my inner walls started clamping, tightening down on that cock just as his overwhelming weight landed on top of me and he...fucked me.

  It was too good. I screamed, I howled, I all-out shrieked with lust and hunger as he rode me in and out and I came and then, one wave riding on the back of another: His groan. Deep and all-engulfing, low and booming, in my own ear. A harmony of our sounds of passion. I screeched a shrill cry of all-consuming, frenzied, unqualified bliss. The howling went on for hours, blending in with the waves of his manly roars. Roars that, I understood in that very moment, had more to do with a dark and tainted past, and the sudden release of that past in this elated moment of two bodies combined, than with anything else.

  I held his shaking head to my shoulder as he rammed and tugged and yanked his hard-on into me, and I ground my hips against his, giving him the pleasure he so desperately craved.

  Because, in that moment, I came to see that maybe it hadn't been only I who'd needed to feel needed, to feel like someone could share a warm bed with me without peering into my blackest fears.

  As Nathan came and came and came, I understood on some other level that he might be as broken as I was, that he needed this to make him feel whole.

  Just like I did.

  Never had a more perfect match been made. Aren't those the makings of love? I hadn't needed Clayton. Not like this, not primordially...

  Nathan finally stopped. He eased himself up, looked down at my body, smiled, shook his head, exhaled. "Goddamn," he said. He started to take himself out of me. My gloved hands blasted to the small of his back.

  "No," I said, shaking my head forcefully. "Don't get out. Stay in me. Get hard again. Fuck me again, baby."

  Nathan looked confused for a second.

  "Lie on me," I said. "Lie on me. Here." I tapped my shoulder.

  "Layla, you're tiny. I'll crush you."

  "Then crush me. But lie on me. And stay in me. Then do me again. And again. Until you can't do me any more. Right on this couch. OK, sweetheart?"

  A glint of tortured pain crossed his eyes. And then I knew for sure. And he knew that I knew, that I'd figured out the man behind the mask, and I could see he was afraid of that.

  That's the problem with being a nerd. You compute too quickly.

  "You understand something in me, don't you?" he said ambiguously.

  I nodded. "As you do in me, I think."

  I've never believed in things happening for a reason. Never. But this was too weird to ignore. Two people who needed physical comfort to hide something deeper. I didn't know what Nathan hid. But I didn't need to know. All I needed to know was that he'd drunk himself into a stupor for years because of it. All I needed to know was that it probably festered in him, ate away at him, sitting on his mind every day. Like my father's death had done to me, rearing its head at the wildest moments. Except for now. Now it didn't. Now I felt safe from that monster in my mind.

  All I needed to know was that, if he needed me to put on sexy underwear to make him forget his shadows, even if only for a night, I could do that for him. Because it also helped me forget.

  "Stay in me," I said again. "Lie on me."

  Our eyes met. Furious flames tangoed in his own. He closed them. Then he rested his titanic chest on mine. He'd been right. It almost did crush me. But I held him there, kept my arms around his wide back, and waited for our breathing to sync.

  Logs snapped and crackled behind us. An age later, Nathan's cock grew inside me. My eyes watered at its beauty. "Fuck me hard, baby. Fuck it all out of me."

  He did. We soared. We came.

  And again, later. Fucked me so my little body slammed back and forth on that couch like a rag-doll. I came, a pleasant fury of squeezing muscles and then that final anesthetizing release. When he finally took himself out of me, I was comfortably sore. The swe
et soreness of satisfying sex. We got up and sat on his couch, his pants down, my crotch open. I pulled my legs onto the seat. He stretched his own out in front of him. I rested my head on his shoulder. He lay back and looked at the ceiling.

  Then he hit me between the eyes with something that made my heart freeze with fear: "I think I'm falling for you, Layla."

  I said nothing.

  -10-

  I couldn't stop thinking of Nathan the next day in my room while I studied for a Computer Architecture exam. That he kept sexting me didn't help either.

  Nathan: Wanna have chatroom sex?

  I heaved a horny sigh.

  Layla: You're so nineties. There's no 'chatroom' sex anymore. Only webcam sex.

  Nathan: Whatever. Wanna have it?

  I was getting quickly distracted.

  Layla: I told you. I need to study!

  Nathan: And? Tease me. Visions of yesterday keep making me hard for you.

  Oh, my god. My skin lit up. I moved my hand down between my legs, felt my moisture, pressed and exhaled.

  "Damn it," I said.

  Layla: I'm wet. Now what?

  Nathan: What are you wearing?

  Layla: Black panties. A white tee. Knee-high socks.

  Nathan: Take the socks off. Put your hand in your panties. Imagine it's me.

  Layla: OK, I did it.

  Nathan: Stick your middle fingertip inside yourself, gently, slowly. Rub the side walls.

  Motherfuck! A breath forced itself out of me.

  Layla: I'm coming over! I need you. Inside me!

  I got up, ruffled for some pants and started putting them on. My phone buzzed.

  Nathan: No! You need to study. No kidding. But we can sext. Put your middle fingertip in. Slowly.

  "Damn it!" I sat on the bed, did as he told me, my panties sodden now.

  Layla: Done.

  He called me.

  "What?" I said, frustrated, hot, horny, tense.

  "Is your finger still in?"

  "Yes," I breathed, "just the tip."

  "Good. Twirl it, slowly, imagine it's my tongue. Lie back in your bed as you do it. Avoid your clit, just vaginal."

  I lay down, did as he told me. "M-hmmm."