by T Steele
I purse my lips to refrain from laughing and scrunch my nose, something niggling in my brain at the words. “Isn’t that from a cartoon?” I ask, now imagining this tough man watching a children's show.
“I’ll never tell,” he replies.
I laugh. “Ohhh, so mysterious.”
He smirks and then grows serious, a gentle smile taking place on his chiseled face. “How about I don’t tell you what we’re doing all day, and I just surprise you with each new thing? Would my little fox like that?”
“Uh, yeah!”
We both laugh again and I’m smiling so wide that my cheeks are starting to ache, but it’s the best ache in the world.
***
Hours later, after zip-lining and kayaking, we’re now sitting inside a restaurant trying to throw french fries into each other’s mouths.
“Okay, now you’re just doing that on purpose,” Nixon says after I’ve hit him between the eyes for the fifth time in a row, causing him to flinch every time I raise my hand. And every time, I laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world. I know it’s not really that funny, but to me it is, and once I get started on the hysterics train, I can’t be stopped. The fun-filled day has me wanting to squeeze every little ounce of happiness I can get out of it, making me want to act like a goofball at every opportunity.
Suddenly, Nixon reaches out and smears some of his milkshake on my nose, and before I can wipe it off he swoops in, licking it away.
I lean back, crossing my arms, observing him.
“Woah, that’s a look I’ve never seen from you before.” He leans forward across the table once more and lightly knocks on my head. “What’s the little fox thinking about?”
Then he leans back in his seat. Finally, I use my foot and rub it up his leg. I hear a sharp inhale through his nose, and I smile widely. My foot slides up and up until it reaches the place between his thighs.
He tilts his head to the side, biting his lip, his face turning sharp and speculative. “You’re playing dirty,” he says darkly.
I shrug. “I’m playing to win.”
He gives a surprised laugh, covering his face with his hand, shaking his head. “What are you trying to win exactly?”
Your love. The thought comes so quickly that it startles me, and I stiffen for a moment.
Nixon notices my change in mood immediately. “Ella?”
Isn’t this moving too quickly? I wonder.
Yes, my brain answers, but when it comes to matters of the heart, things usually don’t make sense. You can’t help who you fall in love with.
Am I falling in love with Nixon?
The silence thickens and I notice Nixon studying my face, so I plaster the smile back on.
“It’s a secret,” I finally answer, back to his earlier question.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern etched into his features, and my stomach flips. He notices everything about me, it seems. He’s so caring and protective. How could I not be falling hard for him?
“Yes,” I say sincerely, leaning forward and putting my hands on top of his.
He grins. “Why can’t I know your secret? Aren’t we playing the same game?” he asks, going back to our earlier banter.
I move my foot along his cock, which is now hardening in his jeans. His eyes drink me in fervently, and I lick my lips slowly.
“Fuck,” he whispers, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a wad of cash. He throws it on the table before grabbing my hand and practically dragging me out of the restaurant.
“Hmm…is something wrong?” I ask innocently.
He gives a dark chuckle. “Soon it won’t be,” he rasps.
We reach his truck and he opens the door for me then lifts me, setting me in the passenger seat, then jogs to his side.
As soon as the door is closed, he leans over the center console and crushes his lips to mine. He swallows my moan as his lips work mine in a frenzied manner. It makes me feel confident and brave, knowing I have this sort of effect on him. That I’m the one making him weak.
I grab his hands and bring them to my breasts.
He growls and reaches under my shirt to touch my breast through my bra, rubbing my nipples, and I pull away, head falling back at the sensation, all the blood from my brain flowing straight to my sex.
Nixon’s soft lips trail down the column of my throat. “God, you’re so beautiful. Like a perfect fairytale princess,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ve got one last place to take you,” he says, pulling away. “But you can keep touching yourself if you’d like,” he says huskily. “In fact, maybe you should. It’ll make what I’ve got planned so much better.”
I stare at him with wide eyes. “You want me to touch myself in front of you?” I ask.
He smiles. “I would fucking love it actually, but if it makes you uncomfortable, then that’s fine. I never want to pressure you, okay?”
I nod and then slowly take my shirt off.
He clenches his jaw, shaking his head. “Mmph, this is going to be the longest five-minute drive of my life.”
He starts the car, and I sit back in my jeans and bra, wanting so badly to be some sexy seductress, but not knowing how or what to do.
Nixon pulls out of the parking lot quickly, causing me to grab the car handle as he speeds down the road.
“So,” my voice comes out soft. “You’d like it if I touched myself?”
“Ella, I’m going to fucking love anything you do, but I think you might really like it…I think it will feel good for you.”
My friends back home had told me about how they’d had to hide their vibrators in their drawers so their parents wouldn’t find them, and how much they enjoyed using them. They would always urge me to get one. One friend had even said, “Come on, Ella, a good orgasm might lighten you up a little.”
Of course, I’d gotten embarrassed at the time, but it’s not like I enjoyed feeling that way. Still didn't. No one liked having anxiety. Being a giant ball of nervous energy could really put a damper on things with relationships sometimes.
I think the reason it had offended me so much was that she was sorta right, in a way. When I was younger, before Tackett, I’d been bubbly and mostly carefree, but he’d ruined that for me, and it always made me feel funny about anything sexual. That even extended to what I did in the privacy of my own bedroom.
But now, Nixon wants to watch. I turn the situation around—would I enjoy watching him touch himself?
The answer comes swiftly.
Yes.
Of course it would be insanely hot to watch that.
It gives me the courage to slip my bra off, my breasts springing free.
Nixon curses, his head whipping back and forth between me and the road with wild eyes.
I give a breathy laugh. “Should I wait till we get to where we’re going?” I ask.
His face is tight, and he’s white-knuckling the wheel.
“No,” he grits out. “Keep going.”
I lean my head back and close my eyes. First, I splay my palms on my stomach and move them up until they’re cupping my breasts, which overflow from my hands. Using my middle fingers, I circle both my nipples and I gasp, my heartbeat accelerating, same as the car’s speed.
I open my eyes and Nixon looks pained, his head jerking quickly from me to the road before he sighs.
“Thank fuck,” he says. “We’re here.”
I sit up and my heart stutters at the beautiful water before us, a tan sand beach rings a crystal clear mountain lake. The sun has just barely set, and there’s no one here but us. The mountains surround us, yet the water still seems like a wide-open space. I never truly knew how breathtaking Montana was until now.
“Wow,” I say. “This is beautiful.”
I turn to Nixon, but he’s already staring at me. “I know.”
Then his hand comes around my neck, stroking my collarbones before dipping lower and massaging my breasts. I hiss in a breath through my teeth.
Then, he opens the glove
box, grabbing a condom, and gets out of the car. He lets me out and covers me with his jacket even though no one is here, but I’m still grateful because it’s cold. Now that fall has arrived, the nights are getting colder and colder.
He leads me to the shore of the water, and I stick my toe in and yelp in surprise. “It’s hot,” I say.
“It’s a hot spring,” he says, and then he starts undressing.
Then, he’s fiddling with the clasp of my jeans and pulling them off of me.
When we’re both naked, we walk into the spring together and he wraps me in his arms. I use my tongue to lick up the side of his jawline, and he tilts his head back.
“You’re the only one who could ever do this to me.”
“What?” I ask.
“Make me come completely undone.”
I cup his face in my palms. “Let me see you come undone then,” I say huskily, and he squeezes me tighter, lifting me in the water. I wrap my legs around him and grind my sex against his hard length.
He groans before entering me in one fluid motion. “God, you feel amazing,” he rasps against my lips.
The walls of my sex clench and unclench around his cock, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Then, he starts moving.
I moan, arching into him, loving the way my slippery breasts slide against his chest, the piercings in his nipples rubbing against me, and I bring my hand down to touch the steel studs.
“You like those?” he growls.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Did you think it felt good earlier when you touched yourself?” he asks gruffly.
“Yes,” I repeat.
He bends down, licking the shell of my ear before whispering, “Do it again.”
We stay connected as he sets us down in the sand, and I lean my head back, arching my back while he continues to move slowly.
I gently start stroking my pebbled nipples, and they instantly react to the chillier temperatures once outside of the hot water.
He makes this deep noise of appreciation in the back of his throat as he watches. His hips start moving faster and faster, and he reaches down between us, circling my clit with his fingers, setting a brutal, rapid pace with his thrusts.
Our bodies slip and slide against one another, and I cry out with each slam of his hips. I stroke my breasts faster and he growls. “Perfect,” he grits out. “You’re so fucking perfect. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch to get the chance to see you like this,” he says, chest heaving. “I promise I won’t make you regret it,” he continues, saying each word more forcefully than the last, emphasizing each word with the movement of his thrusts.
“Never,” I tell him just as fiercely, even though my mind can barely keep up because I’m so close. So close to reaching the euphoria I need. “I would never regret you. I-I—you mean the world to me,” I say, trying to convey with words just how important he is to me, though I don't feel like I could ever do it justice. The first moment I saw him, I was instantly attracted, but then that attraction turned into lust, which turned into actual feelings. Feelings that terrify me, because they are so big and all-consuming. When you have a connection like Nixon and I…it almost feels silly to call it love. It feels more like soulmates. Like he’s my other half.
Heat drags low in my belly, and I start bucking against him, and he speeds up his movements. We cry out together, white stars filtering on the back of our closed eyelids as we reach that perfect state of bliss together on this fall night in a Montana hot spring.
Chapter 24
Nixon
Darkness envelops me as I lay beside Ella on the comfortable mattress. Her even breathing calms me, and sometimes I find myself staring at her sleeping form. The sight of her naked back and her red waves spilling over her skin remind me of rubies mixing with pearls. She is beautiful, yet tough like the jewels would be. Moonlight peers through the curtains, making her glow, looking even more like the angel that I already know she is.
I’m such a fucking goner.
At first, I had felt like she was my responsibility. At least, that's what I told myself, but now, I know that's not true and that it never was. I’d always wondered about her and what had ended up happening to her after I’d gotten locked up. Try as I may I couldn’t not think about her. It was never in a sexual way, more just curiosity. Even in high school, I was drawn to her. She was just the skinny redhead in the band, but I wanted to be near her. She just felt light, and there was always something in her eyes that felt like she understood. That she saw me. The real me.
Then, when I saw her again, it was instant. Like something in the universe was pulling me to her, telling me to stay with this girl and protect her.
And now that I know her, mind, body, and soul, there’s no way I could leave her. I hope she never asks me to because it will hurt like hell, and I can’t go through that. Not after knowing this light feeling. This happiness and understanding. Belonging. Security.
I’ve never fucking had that in my life, and this woman has somehow given it to me.
I’ve fallen in love with her, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I have to quit lying to myself, pretending like the reason we’re here is that I’m trying to keep her safe. I mean, that is the reason, but it’s also because I love her, and I realize now that I’d do anything to keep her safe and make her happy.
I don’t know what we’ll do when we get back, but I’ve got to figure something out. I can’t let anything happen to her. I can’t fail her. I continue to lay there for the next couple of hours with those troubling thoughts on my mind.
When the sun rises, and Ella’s eyes flutter open, I lean over and kiss her on the mouth. I’ll never get used to the fact that she’s mine and I can do that—kiss her lips whenever I want. She smiles with sleepy eyes, and I can’t help but smile back. Something old Nixon would never have done to a woman waking up in his bed. But she has a hold on me, and all I want to do is please her.
She burrows her head into the crook of my neck, and a strand of her silky hair brushes across my face. I take a deep inhale, and she does the same. Almost like we’re breathing each other in. Like we’re not only taking from each other, but we're living in each other, too, sharing each other's air. Each other's peace, and I don’t want to get my hopes up, but each other’s love, too.
“Were you watching me sleep?” she asks.
“Yeah, you’re pretty,” I say, knowing it’ll make her blush, and she buries her head into me deeper with a soft laugh.
“Not as pretty as you,” she replies.
“Aw, I am pretty, huh?” I say dreamily, which makes her snicker against my chest.
“The prettiest,” she says.
“Alright, alright, bring those sexy lips up here so I can taste them,” I say, wanting to get her riled up, and we haven’t even made it out of bed yet.
She lifts her head to stare into my eyes, and when our lips touch, it feels like everything I need in life.
She pulls away, and the look she gives me can only be described as adoring. I can’t help but reach out and caress her cheeks. I cradle her face in my palms as gently as possible, almost afraid my hands will stain her in some way. Always making sure to take extra care when I’m touching her because sometimes I don’t know my own strength, and I never want to turn out like my sperm donor.
“What will it be like when we get home?” she asks quietly. It’s the elephant in the room that we’ve avoided. Something we didn’t want to bring up to disrupt our perfect little getaway because even if it started out as a front, we have actually enjoyed ourselves.
“Listen to me,” I say fiercely, scanning her face before staring into her eyes meaningfully, so she knows how serious I am. “I’m not going to let him hurt you, okay? I don’t care if I have to kill him myself. I will do it if it means you don’t have to live life in fear.”
Tears fill her eyes, reminding me of stunning sapphires. The hue is so bright, they stand out regardless, but when they’re wet, they’re even brighter. I have to wonder
how someone can still be so beautiful even when they’re crying.
“I can’t let you do that for me. Nixon, you’ve already gone to prison because of this,” she pauses for a beat, choking up, and I wait, stroking her cheeks, letting her know silently that I’m here. She’s not alone. “If you did that and got caught, you’d get locked up for life. I can’t do that…I-I—” Her chest heaves, and she closes her eyes. “I can’t live without you, okay?”
My heart constricts. There is absolute sincerity in her gaze and words, and it only makes me want to kill Tackett even more. Makes my resolve to protect her that much stronger.
“I can’t promise that I won’t kill him, Ella. I can’t allow him to hurt you anymore, to take up more space in your mind.”
“Nixon…” She draws out my name like a plea.
I run my fingers through her soft hair that always smells like strawberries. I bring one of the strands to my nose, inhaling deeply once more. It calms me a fraction. “I won’t kill him,” I finally grit out. “But I think you should at least go to court and file for a restraining order or something. We can’t keep letting him win. Abusers like this will never go away,” I say, my tone cold.
“Do you mean your dad?” she whispers.
When I don’t answer, her small hands come up to cup my face, making me look into her eyes. Her blue eyes are powerful for me; they always have been. She looks at me with so much compassion and understanding that I feel like I’m coming undone. Like she sees right through my facade. She lightly brushes her thumbs against my cheeks. “You deserved so much better, Nixon. I hate your ‘sperm donor’. I hate that someone hurt you so badly.” Now she’s leaving soft kisses on my face and chest. When her eyes meet mine again, there's a realization there, as if a light bulb has gone off inside her head. “Is that the reason for all this? Your dad?” she asks quietly. “Your need to take care of me?”
“No!”
“Hey,” she says softly, her eyes still gentle. “I just meant…God, I wish I were better with words. I don’t know how to explain it.” She looks down as if in shame. “What I can do is reassure you that while I absolutely love this place, and everything you’ve done for me, I don’t need things like this. I like you for you. Not the nice things you can buy me. Not because you take care of me. Just you and there’s nothing you can do to change that... if you were worried about that at all…” she trails off, and dammit she’s partially right. My father would have never done this for my mom, or anyone at all. Sometimes I do things way over the top, just to convince myself that I’m not him.