by Jade West
I never want to go back to any of it.
My heart feels tender at the thought of poor little Jane. A horrible sickness, as though it’s too big a pain to understand. And I suppose it is.
They say it’s the worst pain on earth, losing a child, and my heart wants to reach out and hold Nick tight and never let him go.
I just don’t understand why Louisa wouldn’t want Nick to keep her safe. It’s all I want.
That’s a lie.
I want much more than that.
I want everything. Just like she had. Only more. I want all of it, every bit of his love, and his care, and his ground rules.
I’ll give him all of my heart right back.
I eat up every bit of food on my plate and thank him for my meal. He tells me it’s nice to have someone to cook for.
I tell him I’ll cook for him one day. I tell him I can make a mean macaroni cheese. He tells me that’ll be nice.
Somehow I don’t think I’ll be cooking for Nick anytime soon, but that’s ok.
It’s so easy to float around in my happy little bubble around him. So easy to be cared for. So easy to feel young and silly and small.
So easy to feel loved.
“Are you ok?” he asks. “You seem someplace else.”
“Just thinking.”
“Penny for them?”
I want to tell him that I love the salt and pepper at his temples, the strength in his jawline. I want to tell him that I love his gentle smile and the way he felt in bed last night.
I don’t.
“I feel floaty. Like this is a dream.”
“Me too,” he says. “It’s such a pleasure to find that life still has magic in it. It’s been awhile.”
“It feels like fate, doesn’t it?”
He laughs. “Yes, Laine. It does. Maybe you’ll have to read those horoscopes.”
I clear up the dinner plates before he can stop me, and load them into the dishwasher as he watches. I’m putting the cutlery into the tray as he steps up behind me, and his arms snake around my waist as he talks me through the washer settings.
Full cycle, half cycle, quick rinse.
I tell him I’ve got it, and press it to start.
I feel a pang of loss as he steps away.
He grabs his briefcase and sets out his laptop on the table. “Do you have homework? I’ve some reports to finish up if you want to work alongside me.”
I don’t have anything outstanding, but tell him I do. I gather up my text books and set myself up opposite him, then read over my notes from class, making myself out to be the diligent little student. It’s not that far out. A swat, Kelly Anne calls me.
I listen to his fingers on the keyboard, taking care only to risk fleeting glances in his direction as he concentrates. His brow is firm. Serious. This must be work Nick. Professional Nick.
I scribble down notes alongside my notes, and it takes me a moment to realise he’s staring at me.
“You have lovely handwriting,” he comments. “Very neat.”
My cheeks burn with a lovely warm feeling. “Thanks.”
He reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a pen. “Try this one. I find it writes well.”
He’s right, as always. The pen glides across the paper like a dream, glinting in the light like a silver bullet. I swirl my letters, making them just so, hoping he’ll comment again when he surprises me with curveball.
“I’m too old for you,” he says quietly.
My heart pounds. My throat dry and crackly. “Or I’m too young for you. That’s what you really mean, isn’t it?”
“No,” he says. “It isn’t. I’m thinking of you, not me.” He sighs, and I hate the sound. “I said we needed to talk about how things are going to be, and I’ve been thinking, Laine, I’ve been thinking a lot. I’ve been thinking here, looking at you right now, looking at the sweet girl with the pretty handwriting and the beautiful smile and wondering whether I can make her mine. Wondering whether I could be so selfish.”
I can’t bring myself to look at him, so I turn the pen over and over in my hands. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the only one I want. How can that be selfish?”
“You’re young,” he says, and his voice is so calm. “You’re beautiful, Laine. Kind and charming and gracious. You’ll meet someone your own age, someone exciting, someone who’ll knock you off your feet.” His pause seems to take forever. “I’ll still be here. Still be taking care of you, for as long as you need it, and even when you don’t.”
I have to summon up the courage to speak, forcing my crackled words out through my dry throat. “You excite me. You knock me off my feet. I can’t even breathe sometimes… because I want… I want…”
“Laine…” he begins, but I shake my head.
“I watched you in the shower and I liked it. And last night, on the landing… when you…”
“When I lost control…”
“It felt amazing.” I take a breath. “Please, Nick. Please don’t stop this. Last night… I want that… I want more of that…”
He stares at me. “You’ve never been with a man before, Laine, How do you know you’re ready?”
I laugh, but he doesn’t. “I’m definitely ready. I’m the oldest virgin I know. A regular spinster.”
“You’ve never come close, not with anyone?”
I shake my head. “There’s never been anyone worth getting close to. Just idiots. Normally drunk idiots at that. The Kelly Anne effect.”
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders for such a sweet little thing, Laine.”
“I might not be cool and streetwise like Kelly is, but I know what I want, Nick. I know what’s right, and what’s not right. I know what’s dumb, and what’s safe and how to get through life without getting into too much trouble.” My words stall as I remember him grabbing hold of me in the rain. “Well… usually… that night was…”
“Dangerous,” he says. “It was dangerous.”
“I should’ve been more careful.” I try to keep my voice firm, try to sound so much more in control than I feel. “I’m usually more careful. I guess with Mum away, Kelly Anne was the only… I wanted to have fun…”
“It was your eighteenth. If there’s a night for recklessness I imagine your eighteenth birthday is going to feature pretty highly on the list.” He sighs. “It wasn’t your fault, Laine.”
“Even so,” I say. “I was lucky.”
“No,” he tells me, and reaches across the table. I drop his lovely pen and take his hand, and those butterflies start their fluttering. “I was lucky.”
“Fate,” I whisper. “Like we said.”
“And what do you think fate has in store for us, Laine?” His eyes are so fierce. Dark like treacle as they stare into mine.
“Everything.” My voice is light, like air. “I think fate wants us to be everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
Tense. It’s so tense. His eyes so serious and his jaw so hard. I can feel him thinking, feel him teetering on the edge, and I want to pull him over, pull him to me.
Please. Please, please, please.
I’ve never wanted anything so bad.
He squeezes my hand. “We’ll take it slow,” he says. “You can change your mind at any time, but be sure. Be sure you want this before we’re both in too deep to get out.”
“You mean we can… you’ll be my…”
“Everything,” he says. “If that’s what you want.”
I can’t stop smiling. “I want that. I want everything. I won’t change my mind. Not ever.”
I worry I’ve overstepped the line, but he smiles back and my heart soars.
“This can’t have any impact on the ground rules, Laine. How we are together, it doesn’t make any difference, you’ll still be in my care.”
“It won’t make a difference, I promise. I don’t want it to, I like the ground rules.”
His eyes sparkle, and
he looks so strong again. There’s that something primal underneath his cool, and I’m there on the landing again, in bed with his hardness against my ass again…
He pulls his hand from mine and closes his laptop.
“In that case, I think it’s bedtime,” he says. “Let’s start starting slowly.”
Chapter Eleven
Laine
My feet are bouncy as I follow Nick upstairs. He flashes a glance back at me, and his eyes are fierce, with a sexy kind of darkness that makes me feel like a clumsy kid.
I am a woman, I tell myself so. I’m eighteen after all. Totally ready for this. Totally ready for him.
If only the butterflies whirling round my tummy would believe me.
He gestures me on ahead at the landing, and I head for Jane’s room before it occurs to me that maybe he won’t want to… not in there… but he doesn’t say a word, just follows me in and closes the door behind us.
And then he stands.
Staring.
Watching.
“What?” I giggle.
“I’m looking at you,” he says, and my laughter dries up. “I love looking at you, Laine.”
He examines me, up and down, taking in every single gawky part of me, and I try not to worry about my little breasts, or the weird-shaped birthmark on my thigh, or my bony knees. I try not to worry about whether I’ll be good enough. “You’re so very beautiful. You have no idea.”
“Kelly Anne says I’m not sexy. She says I’m cute, like a doll, but not sexy. I don’t really do sexy, though…” I admit, and I’m rambling. Nerves.
“I’m sick of hearing what that idiot Kelly Anne says,” he says, and my eyes widen. “You’re sexy and you’re cute. You’re everything she’d want to be if she wasn’t putting it out to anyone who’ll have her after a few tequilas.”
I’m so aware of myself. So aware of the skinny jeans Nick bought me, and my baby pink cami and fluffy cardigan. So aware that I don’t look dressed for this, despite his compliments and the warmth they give me inside. “Should I, um… change? Into something more…” I begin, but he shakes his head.
“No. You’re perfect just as you are.”
Perfect.
I want to feel perfect.
I want to be perfect… for him.
“I really don’t know what I’m doing…” I take a breath. “I hope I’m not rubbish… I hope you’re not…”
“Shh,” he says, and my heart leaps as he moves towards me.
He’s so tall, towering above me as he closes the distance. I can smell him. Woody and deep. I love the way he smells.
He tips his face up to mine and my breath comes in shallow little gulps.
“Relax,” he whispers, and his head dips enough that his breath tickles my ear. His hands slide to my shoulders and squeeze, and it feels so right.
I feel the firmness of his chest through his shirt. The warmth of his fingers as they slip inside my cardigan and push it from my shoulders. I feel it crumple around my feet.
“My beautiful girl…” he whispers, and the husk in his tone makes my legs go quivery.
His breath is a warm rhythm, his lips pressing to my skin, and it makes me shiver wonderful shivers. I wrap my arms around his neck, the fine hairs prickling as he kisses so lightly along my jawline.
He pulls away, then pauses, eyes on mine, and I fidget, wet my lips, shuffle from foot to foot.
His eyes stay firm, right on target. My breath is so shallow and his is so steady.
He moves slowly. Lowers his head slowly.
And then his mouth lands right on mine.
The world stops moving. For that moment. Stops.
One long perfect moment.
And the butterflies go crazy.
His kiss is firm. Strong like him. Lips warm and soft.
His tongue pushes inside my mouth, and he lets out a groan, and I love that. I love the way it sounds. I love the way his tongue feels, too. Hot and just the right amount of wet. I love the way it moves around mine, the way he pushes so deep. I kiss him, like I think I should, my tongue twisting with his, my eyes closed tight as I take it all in. I’m making little noises, and my fingers tangle in his hair, and that’s soft too.
He doesn’t stop kissing me as he holds me tight and walks me backwards. My ankle catches on one of Jane’s stuffed toys, and I stumble, but he’s got me. He holds me steady, guides me back a step at a time until I feel Jane’s bed against my legs, and then he breaks the kiss. Pulls away with soft presses of his lips to mine.
I open my eyes and he’s smiling. My lips feel puffy and tingly, and my cheeks burn hot as I smile back at him.
He runs his fingers through my hair, and I gasp as he pulls tight. He tips my head up, and I’m staring, staring at how strong he looks, how different he looks.
“You’re such a good girl, Laine,” he tells me, and my heart lifts for him. “I’m going to take care of you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
I nod, and the way my hair pulls in his fist catches my breath.
“You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”
There’s something in the way he says it. Something that makes me feel floaty.
“Yes.” I nod again, and he pulls my hair tighter.
“A firm hand, Laine. That’s what you need, isn’t it? Someone to look after you. Someone to watch out for you. Someone to love you and nurture you.”
“Yes… yes I do,” I tell him, and that makes the tickles come harder.
“Don’t be scared,” he says, and there’s that tone. That caring tone. “There’s no need to be scared. No need to be nervous.”
He lets go of my hair, and once again his fingers glide to my shoulders and squeeze. I feel the tension slipping away from me. His touch makes me feel so wanted, so loved.
I take a breath as his hands move down. Slowly. His fingers hook inside my cami and tug it down, and my stomach churns inside.
I feel so self-conscious in my plain bra, white and dull with just a little trim of lace. I wish I’d have picked something more raunchy, something more… anything, but the look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care one bit.
The look in his eyes tells me he likes it.
His thumbs brush my nipples through the fabric, and I can’t help but gasp; it feels so good I have to clench my thighs. He notices, and his smile is so bright and so dark at the same time.
“That’s it,” he whispers, and his thumbs stroke back and forth, tiny little movements that sends little sparkles all the way down to my clit. My nipples are hard, his thumbs catching, and I gasp again when he stops. I really don’t want him to stop.
He lifts my top up and over my head. My hair swishes as the fabric pulls free, and I feel so exposed, standing before him with my little nipples poking out through my bra.
His hands are so hot on my bare stomach, skin tingling as his fingers sweep up my ribs. I find myself leaning back, rolling my shoulders to show more of myself than is really there, but his hands cup my little breasts, and nothing can hide how small they are. He thumbs again. Back and forth again. I’m clenching my thighs again, with quiet little gasps coming out with my breaths.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, and his hands snake to my back. A flash of nerves as he unhooks the clasp, and my bra falls free. He drops it to the floor, and I look down at myself as he stares. My nipples are hard little peaks. They look so pink against my pale skin.
“You have such beautiful breasts, Laine. Beautiful.”
I love the way he sounds so… mature.
In control. He sounds so in control.
“Thanks,” I say, and I’m biting my lip as he rolls my little tits in his fingers, squeezing flesh that is barely there, tugging at nipples that send crazy sparks right through me.
He groans, and it’s so horny I can feel it in my pussy. “Such pretty little tits, Laine. Sweet little nipples, so pink. They’re perfect. I knew they’d be perfect.”
I make a little squeak that I hope sounds gr
ateful.
“Look,” he says, and I do. I stare down at him playing with my nipples, and his hands seem so big, his fingers so strong as they pinch and pluck and flick at me. “Divine,” he says. “You’re simply divine, little Laine.”
He tugs at them again and my clit sparks so crazily that I think I could come. Right here, right now, still in my jeans with nothing but his hands on my tits. My clit’s fluttering so hard I’m clenching my thighs, over and over, rocking my hips to press myself against the denim seam.
“Good girl,” he says. “Tell me that feels good.”
I nod. “It feels really good.”
He presses his knee to my thighs and I gasp as he makes me part them. He hitches me onto him, his thigh hot and firm between mine, and his hand grips my ass, encourages me to grind myself as his other hand presses to my ribs, coaxes me to arch my back.
Unsteady. I feel unsteady. But it feels too good to care.
I rub myself against Nick’s thigh as my little tits stand proud for him. His breath is in my face, hot and steady as he presses my nipple and circles, and it feels so good I’m not nervous anymore. I moan as he twists and pinches, and I’m asking for more, asking for harder, and I don’t even know what I want, I just want more.
He hitches me tighter against him, and I feel him. Feel his hardness against my belly. I rub myself faster, pressing myself tight, hoping he likes the way it feels, hoping he feels horny like I do. And he must, because his breathing gets faster, and his fingers get rougher, squeezing at my tit until I suck in breath.
“Yes…” I grip at his shoulders for leverage. “Please…”
“That’s my good girl,” he growls. “My sweet little horny girl.”
I can’t stop. Rubbing myself against him so fast. The denim of my jeans straining and the ridge of his dick feeling so big against my tummy.
“I’m gonna…” I begin, but I can’t finish. I don’t think I can say it. “I think I’m gonna…”
“Come,” he says. “Come for me like a good girl, Laine. Come for me!”
And I do.
My clit does that fluttery thing that makes me gasp in breath, and I’m clenching and making little noises and rubbing so hard.