by Penny Wylder
I hop in the shower. At least there’s still plenty of warm water left. The warm water feels good. I’m shampooing my hair when I feel a cool breeze, which interrupts the comfort of the steamy shower. I don’t know where the breeze could be coming from since I hadn’t opened a window or opened a vent. I turn around toward the door and see Nicholas standing there. He closes the door.
It’s not hard to see the large erection concealed in his pants.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask him.
“Not nearly long enough,” he says in a husky voice.
“Oh yeah? Like what you see?”
I pose for him, making sure he gets the full picture of my glistening naked body. He grabs his hard-on through his jeans. I touch my breasts, run my fingers across my hard nipples. I put a few drops of body wash into my palm and start to soap up my body, really making a scene of scrubbing my pussy and ass before rinsing off.
Nicholas slips off his jeans and then his boxer-briefs. He’s so beautiful naked. He’s beautiful clothed as well, but there’s something so powerful and masculine about the muscles that ripple beneath his skin when he’s naked.
I move to the side to let him into the shower with me. The water trickles across his chest and chiseled stomach. It trails down his body and I watch, enraptured, as my gaze moves toward his gorgeous cock. It’s long and thick and proud. When fully hard—as it is now—it’s quite intimidating. I want to touch it and suck it and have it conquer any of my orifices it might fit in. Lately we’ve been talking about anal sex and the possibility of trying it out. I’m nervous. We even bought a butt plug and lube to prepare my body. I’ve been using it daily to get used to something larger than a finger being in there.
Right now, having him all to myself, I think I’m ready for the real thing.
He steps toward me. I hold my hand up to stop him. He looks confused because I’ve never denied him sex. It’s always me grabbing him and making the first move. If anything, I wear him out.
“Hold on a second,” I say and step out of the shower, putting on my robe.
“You’re not leaving me alone in here, are you?” he asks, sounding a little dejected.
I giggle. “Not for long. Trust me, it will be worth the wait.”
I run into the bedroom and grab the bottle of lube and the butt plug from my bag. When I get back into the bathroom and show him, his eyes widen and so does his smile.
“I’ve been practicing for you,” I tell him.
“Oh, really? You sure you’re ready for that?”
“More than ready.”
“Come here,” he says.
I take off my robe and get under the water with him. He kisses me hard. His lips and tongue explore mine, desperate, excited. The shower spray wets our faces, making everything slippery. I love the feel of his wet skin against mine.
He takes hold of my breast and sucks on my nipple. The feeling sends a bolt of electricity to my clit and makes me almost come instantly. It’s the perfect combination of biting and flicking his tongue that gets me every time.
When he’s done with my nipples, he kneels down, his mouth just inches from the sweet spot between my legs. He looks up at me with his captivating eyes and my breath shudders.
I run my fingers through his wet hair and bring him closer to me. Still watching my eyes, his tongue slowly emerges from his mouth and licks the tip of my clit. My knees instantly go weak and I let out a moan of encouragement. It’s enough.
He buries his face into my wet and aching pussy, sucking my clit the way I suck his cock, slow at first, teasing, before enveloping it with my hungry mouth. His long tongue snakes into my opening, wiggling around, and fuck, it feels amazing.
“I need you inside of me,” I insist. “I can’t wait any longer.” It’s been over a week since I’ve seen him last and all I can think about is how well he fills me. I crave that full feeling.
He stands up and turns me around. If he weren’t holding onto me so tight I might slip. But he has a solid grip and he bends me over. With one hard thrust he enters me. I yell out in surprise. I don’t know why I still feel surprised by the size of him and tightness of him inside of me, but I do. He fucks me hard, not bothering one bit to be gentle. And I don’t want gentle. Not at all. I want him to fuck my brains out. I want him to drill me so hard that I lose my mind and my vision, and all other senses.
He grabs me by the hair and pulls my head back, kissing the side of my neck. With his other hand, he slaps me hard on the ass; hard enough to leave a red hand print. I love it when he gets rough. Don’t get me wrong, he can be the most passionate and gentle lover that a girl could ever dream of, but there’s just something about when he turns into a wild animal that I crave. It’s what I dream about at night, what I picture in my head when I masturbate.
“God you feel good. I love being inside your tight little pussy,” he growls.
He pounds me so hard I have to be careful not to slam my head against the tile. I put my hands in front of my face for protection. He touches my asshole, pulls out and rubs the head of his dick against it.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks me. He’s the only one who seems unsure. I know exactly what I want.
A quiver runs through me with anticipation. “I want it so bad,” I moan. I’m too turned on to stop now.
He grabs the bottle of lube and squirts some onto his finger and inserts it into my ass. It feels amazing. By now my body is plenty used to having this kind of attention with my own fingers. I roll my hips has he plays and plunges. I never thought anal would feel this good. I don’t know what all the stigma is all about. If everyone tried it, they would know it was fun. And done with someone you love and trust, it’s downright heavenly.
He squirts the lube onto the head of his cock then slathers his dick with it until it’s nice and slippery, then adds some to my asshole too. My pussy clenches with excitement. It seems so dirty and taboo, and I love every second of it as he pushes the head against that sensitive opening.
When the head pushes through, there’s a twinge of discomfort at first. Nicholas has a really big dick; much bigger than the plug, but I quickly get used to his size. He moves extremely slow to get my body used to his size. It doesn’t take long before the discomfort subsides. He inches his way in until he can’t go any further.
Once the discomfort subsides, I rock against him, driving him in and out of me. He holds my hips and starts to fuck me. There’s something about taking it in the ass that instantly brings me right to the edge of orgasm. I want this to last because it’s been a week since I’ve seen Nicholas and I love this intimate time together, but at the same time, I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I can tell by the shift in his breath and the forcefulness of his thrust, that he’s close too. It’s too late to slow down now.
He reaches around and puts two fingers inside my dripping pussy, double stuffing me. And that’s it. I can’t take anymore. I explode into an orgasm with a loud cry. Several grunts and hard thrusts later, Nicholas’s cock starts to throb and pulse inside of me as he empties his load.
He slumps against my back. We’re both weak and out of breath.
“Holy shit, that was incredible,” he says.
“Better than I could’ve hoped,” I agree.
We clean each other up with body wash and just hold each other, enjoying our naked bodies pressed against each other. I could stay like this with him forever, but eventually we run out of hot water and have to flee from the shower.
I dry off and get dressed. I’m excited to see the tower with him. We never got the chance to go last summer like we planned. He hails a cab and we weave through traffic to get to one of the most popular tourists attractions on the planet.
When we get there, and I look up at one of the most iconic images in modern history. It takes my breath away. It’s so much different than seeing it in pictures.
“What do you think?” Nicholas asks.
I hold my hand to my chest and feel my heart beatin
g rapidly. “It’s so amazing, I don’t even know how to put it into words.”
We ask people to take our picture in front of it like all the rest of the tourists, and we head for the stairs. We walk up the flights of steps. It would take all day to reach the top. Only the first two flights are open to the public. It takes us forty-five minutes to get there.
When we’re at the top of the second flight, I freeze, taken aback. Standing there is Tara, my mom, and the rest of our family.
“What’s going on?” I ask. I thought everyone had other plans. And why would they choose to come up here without me? No one says anything. They just stand there, grinning. I turn to Nicholas to see if he knows what’s going on. He’s down on his knee, holding a velvet box with a beautiful ring in it.
I put my hand to my mouth in shock. I always thought it was such a cliché for women to react that way during a proposal, but I get it now. I’m completely speechless.
“Cleo, will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?”
I can’t speak and there’s a lump in my throat that the words can’t seem to get past, but I know the answer. It is undeniable. There was never a doubt in my mind. Tears start to fall. I can hear my mom crying but I can’t seem to look away from Nicholas and the ring in his hands.
Tara leans over toward me. “Say yes,” she whispers.
Charlie whistles.
My dad says, “Take a deep breath, hon.”
I do what my dad says and breathe. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”
He slips the ring on my finger. It’s a perfect fit. No doubt my mom helped him with that. He stands up and wraps me in a hug. This is more perfect than I ever dreamed it could be. My whole family is here and they support us. I couldn’t have asked for a more romantic proposal, and I definitely couldn’t have asked for a better man to spend the rest of my life with. I thought this kind of romance was unique to the books I love so much. But it’s my time for a happily ever after.
Copyright © 2019 by Penny Wylder
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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1
“Maggie! You’re going to be late. You can’t afford to be late during your first few weeks. It will reflect badly on your father.”
I glare at my reflection in the bedroom mirror as I finish tugging my brown mess of waves into a high ponytail. It’s the best I’ll be able to muster at this hour of the morning. Over my shoulder, a shelf full of stuffed animals watches me balefully, as if judging.
I get it. I’d judge me too, if I were them. 23 years old and here I am, still living in my childhood bedroom—a bedroom that has not been updated since I left to live in the NYU dorms downtown, then a dingy shared apartment with ten other students. That was five years ago. Now, freshly finished with my nursing degree, I’m back in this trap. Back in a life I never wanted to live.
Worst of all, I’m supposed to be grateful for it all.
“Maggie!” My mother’s voice sharpens in warning. I recognize that tone. It’s the I’m not going to warn you again voice.
“I’m coming!” I cinch my scrubs tight and grab my purse, hurrying toward the stairs. We live in an honest to goodness Upper West Side brownstone, the kind of house that nobody who hasn’t lived here for generations could afford anymore. Luckily, thanks to my father’s job running one of the best hospitals in the city, we can afford to pay the crazy high property taxes.
But, according to him anyway, he can’t afford to pay that, my med school tuition bills, and rent for me somewhere on my own. So here I am, back at home, working my debt off to my parents in a different way. By taking a nursing gig at Dad’s hospital, right under his nose, where he can keep an eye on me.
I barely make it to the bottom of the staircase before he’s glaring at me, studying everything from my sneakers to the scrubs I chose, a cute pair with bright pink stripes.
“Those look frivolous,” he comments, before he sniffs and turns back to the kitchen. Apparently the rest of me passes inspection, at least for the moment. “How much of my money did you waste on those,” he adds over his shoulder, as my mother passes him a cup of his coffee. The same kind she prepares every morning, just the way he likes it: black, no milk or sugar.
Like his soul, I always joke. But only where he can’t hear me.
“I didn’t,” I respond, crossing my arms. “It was a present from Julia.” One of my nursing school friends, and a former roommate back when I still lived downtown, near school. Our apartment building was a rat hole, the bedroom I shared with her a constant mess, not to mention plagued by a never-ending stream of infestations—everything from bed bugs to cockroaches. Yet I still preferred it to my current room.
That should tell you something.
“Julia. The one with the hair?” Dad squints into his coffee suspiciously, the same way he does every morning. As if Mom might have somehow messed up the order.
Over his shoulder, Mom fires me a semi-apologetic glance. Not that she’d ever stand up to him on my behalf or anything. In this house, Dad makes the rules, and the rest of us leap to follow them.
“The redhead, you mean? Yes, that’s her,” I grumble, shouldering past him to pour my own cup. To be honest, it stings a little, the reminder of my friends. I haven’t seen any of them in months. Because they’re all off doing what I wish I could be doing. Julia took a position straight out of nursing school with Doctors Without Borders, and a handful of our other roommates followed her shortly thereafter. They sent me some photos from their placements the other night. I sent back a sad selfie in my childhood bedroom.
Then I stayed up halfway through the night, scrolling through their social media feeds. Drinking in every detail I could.
It’s not the travel I envy, though that would be fun too, of course. It’s the fact that they’re doing something. They’re helping the people who really need it most. Not like me, stuck here serving all the same rich old clientele I’ve watched my dad kowtow to for his entire adult life.
“Are you coming?” Dad barks, before I’ve even had a chance to finish downing my coffee. I grab a to-go mug before I grab my jacket from the kitchen counter. It’s getting colder outside, finally, though even the fall bite in the air—normally my favorite season of the year—hasn’t improved my gloomy mood.
Just appease him for now, I can practically hear my mother saying, despite the fact that she says nothing for now. She just leans in to kiss my father’s cheek and then mine as we parade past. But she’s given me the talk enough times by now that I have it memorized. After your school tuition debt is paid back, then you can decide what you want to do. Where you want to live and work.
She acts like that will be easy. Like the years upon years of work I’ll need to put in here will pass before I even know it.
Frankly, if Dad had explained before I went to nursing school how this whole “you need to pay me back” thing was going to work, I would have taken out my own student loans instead. Sure, I’d be broke as hell right now, but I’d be broke and happy.
It would’ve been worth it, I think.
Maybe.
I sling on my coat and trudge out after Dad into the predawn light. This time of year, it’s still dark by the time we need to be up and about. There’s a faint sheen of ice on the windshield. Without a word, Dad passes me the scraper, and gets into the car himself to warm it up. I sigh, my breath fogging, and start to scrape the frost from the windows.
By the time I’ve finished, I’ve worked up a sweat, and I’m not even at work yet. I slide into the car and shove my hands right up against the heating vent, which has started to feebly spit out faintly warmer air than the rest of the car. I’m shivering myself back to life when Dad clears his throat in a way that makes my stomach sink. I reco
gnize that sound. Not to mention the expression he shoots me from the corner of his eye.
“We have some things we need to discuss,” he says as he puts the car into gear.
I slip my hands under my thighs and clench them into fists out of sight, since he’d tell me off for looking visibly annoyed otherwise. Dad’s big on “accepting constructive criticism with poise and grace.” AKA, he hates when I talk back to him or in any way question his directives.
“I went through your patient roster,” he says, and I blow out an exasperated breath.
“Dad, I went to school for this, you know. I understand how to do my job.”
“That’s funny, because last I checked, I’m the one who paid for that school, and I’m your boss’s boss’s boss, and I’ve been working in hospitals since I was younger than you. So I’m pretty sure that between the two of us, I’m the one who knows how you need to do your job.” He jerks his head toward the backseat, and I notice with a suppressed grimace that he’s got a stack of folders spread across the seats. As usual.
I spot a file folder with my name on it, right on top of the files with a few other employee names. I spot Russ’s folder lingering near the seat behind me, and feel a brief pang of sympathy for him. Russ is my father’s oldest friend, all the way back from when they were in medical school together. He’s a surgeon and doesn’t usually have to deal with Dad’s daily BS meetings, where Dad delivers his marching orders to everyone in the hospital, all the way down to the newbie little nurses like me.
Some rich woman must be coming in for an elective plastic surgery, if Dad has a file with Russ’s name on it. Normally, Russ is just about the only person in the hospital who Dad trusts. He has fairly free reign over the surgery wing, in comparison to the heads of all the other departments. It never ceases to amaze me that Russ hasn’t applied to another hospital and escaped to freedom somewhere else. After all, unlike me, he isn’t beholden to my father.
Yet despite the fact that Russ is warm and friendly—not to mention kind of hot, I can’t lie, I had such a crush on him back in undergrad—for some reason he likes my dad. The two of them hang out outside of work, something none of Dad’s other “friends” do. Well, except for the mutual friends he and Mom have, who come over for barbecues. But even they’re all mostly Mom’s friends, really, who put up with Dad glowering in the corner and announcing his displeasure over everything, from the food down to the music.