Dear Delilah (Hudson U)

by T. Bester

  “So why did you write it?”

  “Because having that kind of relationship with someone should be okay, if it’s what you want, and we shouldn’t have to explain ourselves. And because I want the next girl who reads it to be confident in her choices, and who she shares her body with. I want her to know that no one will judge her, or condemn her for not being emotionally involved with someone just because it’s expected.” I expel another breath. “I also wanted to write about what to do when your feelings change.”

  Nathan stands still, his expression unreadable. It’s driving me crazy. “Okay, because you should know that what we’ve been doing isn’t enough for me, Sav. Not anymore.”

  I close the gap between us, and look up into his eyes, finding my own trepidation mirrored back at me. “It’s not enough for me either, Nathan.” He lowers his head, and I hold on to his impossibly broad shoulders. “I want everything.”

  His response to kiss me, slow and teasing.

  “Where’s Zoey?” he asks against my mouth.

  I smile. “She’s out with everyone else. It’s just you and me.”

  “Thank fuck.” He picks me up, and I laugh. “This week has been too fucking long without you.”

  I know what he means. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and reach for him, only to find that he’s not there. He carries me to my bedroom, and places be back on my feet. We start undressing each other, and when his chest is bare, I trace the ridges and the lines, and take in the way he trembles because of my touch. He slips my shirt over my head, reaches for my drawstring pants and slides them down. I gently unzip his pants, careful when I push it down past his hips. I take my time standing back up, running my hands up his powerful thighs, the dip in his waist, the ridges of his stomach. He unclips my bra, and wraps his hands around my ribcage, his thumbs tracing the underside of my breasts. We stand there, in my bedroom, just touching, memorizing, sharing, falling, breathing.

  Nathan steps forward, and nudges me towards the bed, reaching for my bedside drawer. I stop his hand.

  “I…” my voice quivers, and I feel the blush in my cheeks. “I don’t want you to use…” I swallow. “I want to feel you bare.”

  “You’d be my first,” he whispers.

  I smile. “Good, because you’d be mine too.”

  We climb onto my bed, our kisses becoming more and more heated, more frantic, until neither of us can barely catch a breath. I can feel his erection between my legs, and I tremble when Nathan reaches between us and positions himself at my entrance. I’m slick, and ready, and nervous, and God, I want him so bad my body aches.

  “Savannah, I don’t…” he shakes his head. “I’m not sure I can…”

  I reach for his face, and cup it in my palms. “It doesn’t matter, Nate.” I think he’s worried about performance, after his injury. But honestly, having an orgasm isn’t high on my list of priorities right now. “I just want to feel you, all of you.”

  His throat works, and he bites his lips when the tip of his cock slides over my clit. I widen my legs, and place my hand over his heart as she pushes in. I whimper, adjusting to his size and the way he feels, skin-to-skin. I didn’t think it would be different, but it is.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, rising onto his forearms. His breathing stutters, and he pinches his eyes closed.

  “Hey, if it’s hurting you, we can stop. I don't-"

  Another head shake, and then his mouth is on mine as he fills me to the hilt. I gasp, the feeling strange yet completely and utterly stunning. Nathan growls, his breathing hard and fast, the press of his chest against mine making my emotions explode between my ribs. I want to cry because I feel incredibly so full, emotionally and physically, and so naked and exposed. But, instead, I kiss Nathan and he starts moving with me, a steady rhythm of mouths, and hands and thrusts.

  “You feel good,” he murmurs against my lips. He thrusts a little harder, his strokes sure and deliberate.

  “Please,” I beg. “God, Nathan, please.” With that, he lifts my leg at the knee, and pushes down, sending him deeper. “Oh, that’s…” He does it again, only harder, until the sound of our skin fills the room, colliding with heavy breaths and moans. My nails dig into his back, and he tenses. We’re both so close, I can feel it in the way he strains above me.

  “Savannah.” My mouth fills with how he says my name, a plea, a prayer, a declaration.

  I slide my hands down to his ass, digging my nails into his flesh, and use the little strength I have left in my arms to move with him. “Oh G-god,” I cry. “Y-yes.”

  Nathan thrusts one last time, so deep that when my body lets go, it steels the air from my lungs. My legs lock around Nathan’s waist, and his nails cut my skin as he squeezes my ass.

  “Fuck,” he exhales, and grunts, shaking. “So fucking good.”

  I arch my back, and feel him pulsing inside me, the feeling heady and so blatantly sexual, it draws out my orgasm, the wave crashing over me in long strokes. We lie there, a quivering, sweaty tangle of limbs, riding a high that makes my chest constrict and let go, constrict and leg go.

  Nathan licks the side of my neck, and nips at the flesh. “I’ve missed you.” He lifts his head, his forehead sweaty, his hair damp, his eyes filled with reverence, awe, promises, and life. And love. So much love.

  “You’re stuck with me.”

  “You’re my person, Savannah Leigh.”

  My throat constricts with the magnitude of this moment, this beautiful unguarded and unrestrained moment in which the Universe shrinks and expands all at once, until there’s nothing but me, and Nathan and everything I feel for him.

  “You’re mine, Nathan Penn. You always have been.”

  21

  SAVANNAH

  “STOP IT!” I laugh, swatting Nathan’s hands away. He leans in closer, and starts sucking on my neck. I roll my head to the side, to give him easier access, and moan when he sucks the patch of skin between my shoulder and my neck. His hands travel over my hips and down the front of my panties, his fingers gently sliding through the lips of my sex. “Nathan,” I protest, but really, it’s a plea.

  “You’re so sexy when you’re wet for me.” He growls, and finds that I am in fact very wet for him. His forefinger slides over my clit and my legs buckle. I whimper.

  “Should we see if I can make you come like this?” He presses harder on my clit and I whimper again, holding on the kitchen counter for support. “Right here. Or maybe I should eat your pussy for breakfast, on the counter with your legs spread wide for me.” Between his words, and the way he’s playing with my body, I doubt we’d make it to the kitchen counter. It’s Saturday morning, and we haven’t been able to keep our hands off each other. Last night was spectacular, but after the third time, I told Nathan he needs to slow down. We would not want to have him back in the E.R because too much sex got him bruised all over again. But I’m insatiable when it comes to him, and if he were to take me here, I’d put up no fight at all.

  He flips me around, and lifts me onto the counter, dragging my panties down my legs. He lifts my shirt over my head, and his mouth zeros in on my nipples, already hard from the cool air and tight with anticipation. He loves the barbels, and when he pulls ate the bar with his teeth, I simper. God, it’s sexy, watching him suck my nipple. His big hands reach for my ankles, and he spreads my legs just before dropping to his knees.

  “There’s my girl,” he mutters, looking at my sex. I find myself preening beneath his stare, no longer shying away from the way he looks at me. I like it, revel in it. It’s so primal, and so provocative that I spread my legs wider. A deep snarl comes up his throat, and then his mouth is on me, licking, and sucking and eating.

  He nips at my clit, and my body jolts. His tongue rubs my clit over and over again, my legs quiver, and then he pulls the sensitive flesh into his mouth.

  “Oh!” I cry, using one side of the counter for leverage while pulling on Nathan’s hair.

  “God…” he growls again and wriggles his mouth
from side-to-side, increasing the suction on my clit. “Ahhhh.”

  He smiles against my sex — the bastard — and repeats the motion until I’m screaming, shaking on the edge of the counter. He draws it out, and I come so hard, my toes curl against the marble edging. He stands, quickly ridding himself of his drawstring pants, and positions the head of his hard cock at my entrance. He helps me sit up just enough for me to see, and when I look down, he slides in. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he fills me. He pulls out, his shaft glistening with my arousal, and then he slowly, slowly, slowly pushes back in until we are irrevocably connected.

  “I will never tire of this,” he whispers. “Your body was made just for me, Savannah.” He lifts my palm and places over my abdomen. He pulls out, and with his next thrust, I feel him move inside me. He moves my hand down to my sex, and makes me separate the lips with my fingers, giving us a clear view of how he pushes in and out. “Fuck,” he grunts. “I don’t think I can keep up this slow pace, because I really, really want to fuck you.”

  I scoot closer to the edge, and wrap my legs around his waist, sucking in a sharp breath when he fells me to the hilt.

  “So fuck me,” I tell him. His eyes flare, and I see the moment he’s decided to give me what I want. He braces his feet, firmly on the floor, and places his hands on my hips. And then he thrusts, and thrusts and thrusts, so hard my breasts bounce against his chest.

  “Fuck me, Nathan. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” I discovered the night before that the dirty talk makes him wild, and then he makes me wild because he takes me hard and fast and when we come, we do it together, loud and savage.

  “Oh j-j-jesus, N-Nate, b-baby, f-fuck y-yes,” I cry. Nathan’s muscles tense I feel him shake between my legs, his cock throbbing. There’s something so primitive about the way his seed fills me, it makes me hot for this part of him. He grunts, and bites my shoulder so hard I yelp.

  “Fuck, Savannah.”

  “You just did,” I laugh, breathless, my body limp but still trembling from aftershocks.

  He kisses me, still inside me, and it makes me want to go another round. I break away. “Pancakes are burning.”

  “It’s fine.” His fingers dig into my thighs. “This is all the breakfast a man needs.”

  “You still have to feed me,” I pout. “I’m actually really hungry.”

  Nathan grins and takes a step back. “You only have to-"

  “Oh my God.”

  Our heads whip to the side, and Zoey stares at us, wide-eyed. She slaps her hand over her eyes. “For the love of God,” she mutters. “I knew this day would come, but why today?”

  I scramble off the counter, and make quick work of pulling my panties on. Nathan pulls his pants up, fastens the drawstring and slips my shirt (well, his shirt) back over my head.

  “We’re decent” he chuckles. He gives me an Eskimo kiss before facing Zoey.

  “Nathan, you’d better have fucking pants on. I can handle seeing Sav’s goodies, but I don’t want the image of my brother’s purple wanger burned into my iris’.”

  Nathan looks down. “It’s not purple anymore.” He looks to me. “Is it?”

  “Seriously? You can’t discuss the color of you peen while I’m here.”

  I snicker. “It’s fine Zo, we’re dressed. You can open your eyes.”

  I stretch onto the balls of my feet, and get my mouth as close to Nathan’s ear my meagre hight will allow. “I can’t remember the color of your peen, babe. You’ve spent most of the morning with it buried in my pussy.”

  Nathan grunts, and when I see his cheeks color with a feint blush, I giggle. It’s cut short when Nathan’s palm connects with my ass, the slap a loud crack against my flesh. “You’ll pay for that later,” he grumbles.

  I rub the spot, and give him a cheeky smile. “Only if you promise to spank me again.”

  He opens his mouth, but Zoey beats him to it with a, “Still here, guys! Enough with the sex talk okay? I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, and I already want to puke.”

  “You can have some pancakes,” teases Nathan.

  Zoey’s face scrunches. “Uh you mean the pancakes that sat next to Sav while you boned her on our kitchen counter? Ew.” She turns towards her bedroom and yells, “You’d better disinfect that place. I don’t want my breakfast with a side of sex germs, or my brothers spoofala.”

  “Spoofala?” I whisper-laugh.

  “Sperm,” clarifies Nathan.

  “Oh,” I pause. “That reminds me, your spoofala is running down my leg.”

  A sound comes from Nathan’s throat. “Unless you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you again, just so I can see my spoofala running down your leg a second time, I suggest you get yourself cleaned up.” I look down, and see that he’s sporting wood. Again. You’d think he’d be unable to get so hard so quickly after his injury, but no, my guy is always ready for me.

  “Or…” I step closer, and trace a nail around his nipple. “You can help me clean up in the shower. I do believe the new letter for the column is something about shower sex.”

  His grin is evil, and then he throws me over his shoulder, shouting, “Zoey, put your headphones on! Savannah’s a screamer!”

  Her bedroom door slams shut, and I laugh.

  Nathan is such a fiend.

  But he’s my fiend.

  I WRAP A towel around myself, and find Nathan sitting on my bed when I leave the bathroom. He’s on the phone, his expression tight and thunderous.

  “Yeah, thanks Griff. I’ll leave Sav’s in five, I’m just getting dressed….Bye.” He ends the call.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I have to go to the office.” He dresses quickly. “There was an incident last night.”

  “What happened?” I drop my towel, and start lathering my skin with baby lotion (what? I like the smell). Nathan looks up, his mouth open, but when he see’s me naked and bent over, his eyes darken. God, this guy does wonders for my ego — the way he looks at me, the way touches me, they way he wants me. “Hey.”

  His gaze snaps up, and he gives a slight shake of his head. “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I snicker. “Tell me what happened.”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “They, uh, broke into Toby’s office. The entire place has been trashed.”

  “What?”

  “That’s why Griff called. I’m heading over there.”

  I grab my jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, and slip into my underwear in a hurry. “I’m coming with you.”

  I’ve just pulled my shirt over my head when Zoey knocks on the door, and comes in. Her face is white, as if she’s seen a ghost.

  “Sav, when last did you log on to Dear Delilah?”

  “Not since yesterday,” I tell her. “Why?”

  “You need to see this.”

  She steps to my side and shows me her phone. On the screen is the Dear Delilah page, but what makes me stomach roll is the video that’s playing. It’s grainy, but it’s still easy to ascertain that the two people in the video are having sex, and that the only person who knows what’s going in is the guy. The girl, however, has no idea she’s on camera, for the world to see. Her words are slurred though, and It only makes the scene in front of me a thousand times worse. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s drugged and in no way a willing participant in this sick, sick, sick game.

  “Oh my…” I slap my hand over my mouth, feeling queasy. Nathan grabs Zoey’s phone and glares at the screen. “What the fuck is this?”

  “I don’t know,” replies Zoey. “But it says it was posted by Delilah late last night. It already has over twenty-five thousand views.”

  “I didn’t post it.” I look up at Nathan, panicked. “I didn’t.”

  “I know, babe.” He hands the phone back to Zoey just as his starts ringing. He answers it on the way out. “Griff…Yeah, we just saw it. The girls and I are on our way….Fuck…Okay. I’ll see you now.”

  Without saying another word, we follow
him out, climb into his truck and drive to campus. We race up to the office, and when we make it out of the elevator, I gasp. Zoey halts beside me and mutters, “Holy shit.”

  It’s trashed, the floor littered with shattered glass, ripped papers and cracked computer screens. All the chairs are upturned, lying haphazardly across the room, and the conference room glass is splintered.

  Nathan stalks towards Toby’s office, but something on my desk catches my eye. “Nathan.” He stops. I walk towards my desk, bypassing the mess on the floor, my overturned chair, and stare at the giant bouquet of red roses. Except they’re dead, a note sticking out from between the dull and lifeless petals. I pick it up, sliding the piece of paper from the envelope.

  DEAR DELILAH

  I KNOW WHO YOU ARE

  Zoey inhales. “Crap. Does it say who it’s from?”

  I flip the card over, and spot the embossed initials in the corner.

  C.F

  “C.F?”

  “Chelsea,” I exhale. “Chelsea Foxcroft.”

  Of course. No one else would be so brazen. Bitch has balls. And she’s been sniffing around here, looking for excuses to see Nathan.

  With shaky hands, I give the note to Nathan. He frowns as he reads it, and then I show him who sent it. Wordlessly, he shoves it into his pocket, and stomps across the floor to Toby’s office.

  It’s not fairing any better than the rest of the office though, with papers everywhere, smashed glass, a cracked computer screen.

  He looks up when we all walk in, as does Griffin. They both look exhausted.

  “Do you know what happened?” asks Nathan.

  “Yeah,” says Griffin. He rubs both hands down his face. “They broke in, trashed the place and stole Toby’s laptop.”

  “Do you know why?” asks Zoey. Something weird flashes between her and Griffin, and then Toby replies, “Information.”

  “Does it have something to do with the fucking video that’s been posted on Delilah’s page?” Nathan’s voice is simmering with restrained anger.