by London Hale
Nathan was more than twice my age, though, and he was my dad’s best friend. Two relationship killers, for sure. Plus, there was no way he’d want someone like me—I was too young, too naïve. Too innocent. I hadn’t even given up my V-card yet. Nathan would want a woman, not a little girl. Even if that girl was eighteen. At least, that had been what I’d told myself.
But then he’d hugged me today, and he’d been hard and trying not to let me feel it. He wanted something. I just had to figure out a way to get him to tell me what, exactly, because I’d give it to him. I’d give him anything.
Eventually, I slipped into the kitchen and quietly closed the door behind me. Nathan was leaning against the counter on the other side of the room. His head hung down, his short-cropped hair looking even darker than normal. The ridiculous island with the white marble top blocked my view of his legs, but his chest and shoulders were fully on display under the dark collared shirt he’d worn. He was normally a T-shirt and jeans guy, so the sight of that collar told me he’d tried to look nice. Perhaps to dress up a little.
I preferred the T-shirts.
As he took a deep breath and sighed, I spotted the beer he’d come inside to retrieve in his hand. But it was unopened.
“Did you have trouble finding the opener?”
His head flew up, and his eyes met mine. Deep and dark and so very tortured.
“I…no, I’m good. Thanks, Eve.”
I crept forward, keeping my eyes on his. “You know you’re the only person who calls me Eve? Everyone else says Evie.”
“I figured turnabout was fair play. You’re the only person who calls me Nathan.” He twisted off the top and took a swig of his beer, finally looking away when he pulled the bottle from his lips. “What are you doing in here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be outside enjoying your party?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know all those people. Besides, they’re not here for me.”
His lips turned up in a small, lopsided smile. “They’re here for your dad.” He always had been able to see through the bullshit people tried to hide behind. Maybe that was the cop in him, or maybe it was just Nathan.
“Exactly.” I slid into the space between him and the island. Too close for social norms, too far away for my preference. “Why are you hiding in here?”
“Needed air.”
“You were outside.”
He glanced behind me, probably through the window over the sink. The one that looked out over the backyard. “Those people are stifling.”
“Yeah, they are.” I leaned forward, getting right up in his space. “Hey, Nathan?”
He didn’t move away. “Yeah?”
“Why haven’t you been coming around?”
A shrug. “Been busy.”
“Lie.”
“Eve,” he said, almost sighing my name.
The sound sent shivers down my spine, so I mimicked him. After I wrapped my hands around his wrist to tug him closer. “Nathan.”
He closed his eyes for a second, looking conflicted, though he certainly didn’t pull out of my grip. “What are you doing?”
What was I doing? I’d come in to check. To see if what I thought I’d seen and felt outside had been a figment of my imagination. But it hadn’t, as evidenced by the bulge he was obviously sporting, and I needed to figure out what to do with that information.
So I answered honestly. “Pushing you.”
“Pushing me to do what, exactly?”
“Whatever it is you want.”
“Why?”
“Because you look like a man who needs to be pushed.”
His eyes devoured me again, burning me from the inside out. Leaving nothing but ash where I'd once stood. “Maybe I’m the one man you shouldn’t push.”
Too late. “Nathan?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you looking at my lips?”
His jaw clenched, his eyes darting back to mine. “I’m not.”
But he was, and we both knew it. Which meant… “Do you want to kiss me?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. I’d seen that tic a thousand times, knew it as a sign of his frustration. Of his control being worked hard. That was a tic of need.
“You do,” I said, smiling as I inched closer and dragged my hand farther up his arm. “You want to kiss me.”
His hands landed on my hips, gripping hard. “I want…to do a lot of things with you. But we can’t.” His words didn’t match his hands, which were pulling me in with every breath.
“Why not?”
Another jaw tic. “Your age.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Barely.”
“Eighteen and one day or eighteen and three hundred and fifty days is still eighteen.”
He sighed. “I’m not eighteen, Eve.”
“I know.” I gripped him by his belt loops, tugging. Refusing to let him go.
But still, he resisted. “Your dad’s my best friend.”
“He’d never have to worry that you wouldn’t treat me right.” I ran the back of my fingers over the bulge in his pants, the one he’d been trying to keep me from noticing. The one he’d been sporting since he hugged me. He grabbed my wrist, but he didn’t try to stop me. Didn’t pull away from my touch. So I did it again, harder. Longer.
“Would you, Nathan?” I pressed as I slipped my finger under the collared shirt he wore. Tickling through the hair leading down to what I really wanted to get a feel of. “Would you take care of me?”
He moved his hands to cup my arms. Whether to hold me closer or push me away, I wasn’t sure. “You know I would. I’d do anything for you. But not this.”
I leaned forward, pushing on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his in the softest, sweetest kiss I could give him. “Not what? Kiss me? I know you want to. I know you want to do a lot more than kiss, too.”
He groaned and closed his eyes, the grip on my arms tightening. Giving me just the right amount of pain. I hoped he left marks. I wanted his claim on my body any way I could get it.
When he opened his eyes again, they were molten. “Anyone can see if they look through the window.”
“They’ll think we’re talking. They won’t know what I do with my hands.”
Which was true, and that gave me an idea of what I could do with more than my hands. I hadn’t ever given a guy a blow job, but I wanted to. Needed. Craved the taste of this man on my tongue like nothing else. If I couldn’t kiss his lips…
I dropped to my knees.
“Eve.” He said my name like a warning, but I just grinned up at him as I unfastened his jeans, pushing them down his thighs to free his erection. He wasn’t wearing underwear, which made my job all that much easier. It was as if he’d planned or hoped for this—or something like it—to happen. That thought had such an effect on me my panties grew wet. Not damp, not warm, not that disgusting M-word no one liked. They were totally and completely wet.
I couldn’t wait for him to feel how much, but first, it was his turn.
Nathan held still, watching and wary as I teased him with my fingers. I’d done this much once with Brock—slid my hand inside his pants to feel a dick for the first time. I’d had no frame of reference then, nothing from real life to compare him to. Sure, I’d seen pictures and video clips online, but I’d never gotten up close and personal with a man. Brock had been my first touch, and I was so glad he was because I knew what to do. Sort of.
That boy had nothing on Nathan.
He was so hard, so long. Soft to the touch but solid underneath. But it wasn’t the length that made my eyes widen and my heart beat faster. It was the width. Thick was an understatement. Nothing in my modest toy drawer compared to him; nothing I’d ever even thought about taking inside me came close.
When I couldn’t wait anymore, when I was desperate to feel with more than just my fingertips, I slid my hand around the base of that impressive dick and stroked upward. All the way to the tip. Precome gathered at the slit, enticing me. Making me want to kiss, to lick,
to taste.
“Eve.” The breathless, growly way he said my name set me on fire.
I leaned in, ready, shaking with my need to devour him. He was so close to the edge, so tense as he tried to hold himself back, but I was going to break him. I had to.
“Let me,” I pleaded just before I pressed a kiss right to the tip of his hard, heavy erection. “Let me.”
How in the fuck had we gotten here? All I’d needed was an escape so I could get my dick in check. Just some goddamn peace and quiet so I could get my head in the fucking game again—remind myself why I couldn’t snatch Eve away from Shithead and claim her right there in front of everyone.
But I’d wanted to.
Christ, more than anything, I’d wanted to wipe that smug grin off his pretty-boy face. With my fist. Break every one of his fucking fingers when he’d wrapped his arm around her and tugged her into his side.
And now here she was, on her knees in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything but stare. I should’ve stopped her. If I were a better man—a stronger man—I would’ve. Instead, I watched with rapt attention as those full lips kissed the tip of my cock, her bubble-gum tongue flicking out to lick at the head.
“Let me,” she begged.
And I was gone.
I was so fucking gone for this girl.
I fumbled to set my beer bottle on the counter, then reached out and brushed her hair back from her face, gathering the long, dark strands in my hand as she continued to tease me. She licked me like a lollipop, her tongue eager and clumsy, her unpolished enthusiasm only illustrating exactly how young she was.
That thought alone shouldn’t have tightened my balls the way it did.
Mad at her for putting me in this position—mad at myself for not having the willpower to stop it—I tightened my hand in her hair. “If you’re going to do it, do it. Open up and let me slide my cock between those pretty pink lips.”
She groaned, her eyes flashing up to mine, a flush covering her cheeks. Reaching out, she rested her hands on my thighs, balancing herself. And then she did as I told her, engulfing the tip of my cock in her mouth.
“Jesus.”
The sight alone was enough to make my knees weak—her lips stretched taut around me and her sky-blue eyes staring up into mine—but combine it with the heaven that was her mouth, and I didn’t stand a fucking chance. I’d had all of seven seconds between her lips, and I already needed to go off down her throat. I was a grown man—a grown man who hadn’t gotten a blow job in months, but a grown man nonetheless. And yet I felt like I was no better than those little douchebags she went to school with who didn’t know the meaning of delayed gratification.
I knew plenty about delayed gratification.
Watching her prance around in her tiny dresses, her perky tits taunting me even in my dreams, but not letting myself do anything about it. I’d had a full year of wanting but not taking, and the deprivation was bubbling under my skin, threatening to boil over at any second.
I was so tired of wanting. I needed to have.
I reached down and stroked her face with one hand while I used my other to guide her head with a fistful of her hair. When I tightened my grip, she let out a groan, the sound reverberating down my length, sending shock waves through me. I clenched my jaw and held on to the frayed string that was my control as her tongue lapped at the underside of my cock.
She dug her fingernails into my skin through the denim, and I couldn’t deny how much I loved knowing this turned her on. Her tits, barely constrained in her dress, were heaving and flushed. She kept shifting her hips, her fingers restless against my thighs, like all she wanted to do was reach down and finger herself. Get herself off to sucking my cock.
It made me want to tug her up just so I could slip my hand under her dress and feel how wet she was. How swollen. How hot to fuck.
She lapped at me, sucked me into her mouth, trying to go deeper with each pass. Her approach wasn’t smooth or practiced, her eyes tearing when she tried to take more than half my cock, but she was eager as hell. Knowing she wanted this as badly as I did made me want to spill all over her tongue.
“Easy, baby, easy,” I said, pulling back so she could catch her breath.
She didn’t even let me get out of her mouth before she was diving back in, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked me hard.
How many times had she done this? How many guys had experienced this—knew what kind of nirvana rested behind those perfect lips? The thought brought out an animalistic hunger in me I’d never known before. I wanted to have her. Mark her. Claim her.
I wanted exactly what I couldn’t have—what I shouldn’t have.
Not able to look at those crystal-clear blue eyes staring up at me for another second, I lifted my gaze to stare out the window. Shithead was standing in the middle of the yard, looking around. Probably for the girl currently on her knees in front of me, anxious to take my come down her throat. The thought of her going up to him later, still tasting me on her tongue, had me thrusting into her mouth faster.
I glanced down at Eve again. Her eyes were still trained on me, her cheeks hollowed out, and only one hand rested against my leg. The other was moving under her pretty white dress.
The orgasm slammed into me like a wrecking ball, even when I lifted my eyes from the temptation at my feet.
“Fuck, Eve. Fuck.”
As I stared outside, my cock still emptying in her mouth, I spotted Brandon standing near Eve’s friend Gen and Shithead. Brandon said something to them, then turned toward the house. Even though I was sure he couldn’t see into the kitchen with the blinding sun from outside, it still felt like he was looking right at me.
While I was coming down the throat of his little girl.
What kind of bastard was I? I’d taken advantage of her, hadn’t even tried to stop her when she’d gone down and tugged my cock out. Christ, I hadn’t even given her the choice to take my come in her mouth or not.
I’d taken her like an animal.
The heaven I’d felt for the past ten minutes burned up, leaving me once again in purgatory.
“Shit. Shit.” I pulled back, my still half-hard cock slipping from between her lips, and shoved myself in my jeans before turning my back on her. “Goddammit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She gasped behind me, but I couldn’t bring myself to comfort her. Couldn’t turn around to offer her any kind of reassurance. Couldn’t even stand to look into her eyes. I’d just fucked the mouth of my best friend’s daughter. I’d come down her throat.
And I’d loved every fucking minute of it.
I was a sick bastard, and I needed to get away from her as fast as I could, before I dragged her down with me.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, because I couldn’t give her anything else.
I didn’t look back as I strode through the house and left out the front door, not knowing how I was going to make this right. But I knew with certainty the first step was staying as far as fucking possible away from my own personal Garden of Eden.
There was something utterly humiliating about being left on the floor with the taste of a man’s come on your tongue and your own hand as wet as your panties. I hadn’t been fast enough to chase after Nathan, hadn’t even made it to my feet before he was already out the door. So I’d sat, and I’d wallowed in all my debauched glory.
“I hate to interrupt you two, but… Whoa.” Gen froze, her eyes widening before she jumped into action. Without another word, she peeked back over her shoulder before quickly closing the door behind her. “What the hell happened in here?”
Ugh, I must have looked like quite the sight for that sort of reaction. Thank God Brock or my dad hadn’t walked in with her. I pressed my back against the cabinet, pulled my knees up to my chest, and rested my cheek against them so I didn’t have to see her face when I told her.
“He left.”
The clock in the foyer ticked in the resulting silence, the sound booming in my head as I waited fo
r Gen to respond. To help me figure out what had gone so wrong. Because I couldn’t—I had no idea why he’d left me the way he had.
“What do you mean he left?”
My eyes burned, humiliation making me want to cry. “I don’t know. One second, he was coming in my mouth. The next, he was gone.”
Gen’s face appeared before mine, her head cocked to look me in the eye. “You gave him a beej?”
I sniffed. “Yeah.”
“And he just left? Did he at least say thank you?”
“No. He said he was sorry, and then he walked out the door.” I sighed and brought my head up, knocking it into the cabinet behind me with a quiet thud. “I thought he wanted me.”
“Honey, there’s no way that man didn’t want you. I saw the way he was looking at you earlier.”
“Then why’d he leave? Was I so horrible at it that he—” I bit my lip to cut off the words. Had I done something wrong? Had my inexperienced fumblings somehow disgusted him or made him change his mind? He’d been into it, been aroused by me. So then why did he say he shouldn’t have let me? Why did he run off and leave me crumpled on the floor like nothing? Like garbage.
“Evie,” Gen said. “You’re seriously not going to let him run away, are you? He’s just scared. I mean, shit, he let you blow him in your dad’s house. That’s gotta mess with his mind, even if he is a badass, totally hot, and fuckable cop. With all those muscles and that tattoo.”
I could have rolled my eyes. “Would you stop with the tattoo?”
“It’s a woman holding a fucking apple. With Eve holding an apple. Hello.”
“It’s a scene from the bible, Genesis,” I replied, stressing her full first name. “That doesn’t mean it’s because of me.”
“Whatever.” She scoffed, then braced herself on the island, fanning her face. “Jesus. I can’t believe you had his cock in your mouth.” She pointed a finger in my direction. “I hope you know I want details as soon as you’re emotionally stable enough to give them. Especially once you push him past his fears and get really naughty with him.”