“Concentrate on your assigned tasks, please,” she said, pulling her top over her head. He was so hard, so thoroughly distracted by the bounce of her suddenly naked tits, that he almost missed the hint of laughter in her voice. “If we both stay foc—James!”
He couldn’t help it. He was still wearing his boxers when he pounced on her, and he didn’t have a condom yet, but he couldn’t be expected to follow instructions when she was sitting there looking like that. Nina lay beneath him, laughing helplessly as he straddled her. His focus was split between her smile—she was so fucking beautiful when she smiled—and her breasts, sweet handfuls with thick nipples that belonged between his lips. When he bent his head and flicked his tongue over one blackberry tip, her laughter turned into a low, husky moan and her hands slid down his back to cup his arse.
“Oh,” she sighed, “yeah. You can stay there.”
“Just here?” He raised his head, arched a brow, and reached between their bodies to palm the heat of her pussy. “Are you sure?”
Nina bit her lip. “No? Maybe? No. See, this is why we were supposed to focus.”
“I’m completely focused,” he said, which was true. He was focused on getting her naked, making her come, and pushing his aching cock inside her. In that order. Maybe with a few extra orgasms thrown in. To that end, he bent his head and sucked her nipple fully into his mouth, even as his hands worked to pull off her underwear. She arched her back, pushing her breasts into his face, and he decided that the scent of her skin might be more vital to him than oxygen. Then, her underwear finally disposed of, she wrapped her thighs around him and he felt the red-hot wetness of her cunt through his boxers, scalding his cock and tightening his balls and sending sparks of desperate pleasure down his spine. If her skin was oxygen, her pussy must be life itself.
He couldn’t lose his head, though. This was for her. Everything he did was for her. So James resisted the urge to kiss his way down her body and bury his face between her legs, even though he was pretty sure she’d enjoy it—and even though he still remembered, still dreamed about the intoxicating taste of her, the way her soft flesh yielded under his tongue, the feel of her tightening around his fingers as she came. Raising his head to look at her, gritting his teeth against the hunger that pounded through his bloodstream, he asked, “What do you want, sweetheart?”
She blinked up at him with lust-drugged eyes, relaxed in a way even he’d never seen before. She trusted him. The thought made his heart swell, made him prouder than anything he’d ever done. Then her legs tightened around him and she rocked against his painful erection and he had very few thoughts beyond fuck and Nina and now.
“I want you,” she said, her voice hoarse and urgent. “Just—James, can you just fuck me? I know you probably want to do all that romantic shit, and I’m cool with that, but right now I really, really need your dick in me, so… um… what are you doing?”
He was reaching over her, opening his bedside drawer and grabbing a box of condoms, that’s what the fuck he was doing.
“I’m with you on that,” he said, ripping a latex packet open with his teeth. “We’re fucking. Your wish is my command. Etcetera.” He rose up on his knees, shoved down his boxers and went to roll on the condom, but she stopped him, covering his hand with hers. He looked up to find Nina staring at his cock like it was dessert, her dark gaze lingering on the swollen head, the gleam of pre-come, the fine veins standing out against his skin. He was really fucking hard. Really. Fucking. Hard. And so turned on that when she licked her lower lip, his cock actually twitched. He gritted his teeth against the stab of sheer lust that went through him, tried not to focus on her face or her tits or her hips, or anything else that would send him over the edge—
But then Nina slid a hand between her thighs and circled her own clit with a finger. And he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning back to watch, from moaning over the sight of her wet, swollen sex. So he rolled on the condom and pushed her bent legs back to spread her wider. He saw her folds part and glisten, all slick and soft and open for him, and rasped out, “Keep going.”
Her hand moved faster. She touched her clit directly and gasped, her stomach trembling. And when she tried to go back to those soft, easy circles, he didn’t let her. He grabbed her wrist and held her gaze until she rubbed her clit again, and the look of shattered need on her face undid him. His cock found the heat of her entrance easily, and he pushed forwards, easing himself into bliss.
“Ohhh, fuck,” he hissed. He hadn’t meant to; pure sensation dragged those words out of him, scrambled his mind, dissolved his control. It felt as if his lungs had seized, his heart had stopped, the world had paused, and he was frozen in a shard of impossible, sharp-edged perfection, his blood singing, his nerve endings alight. Then, all at once, the moment passed. But he couldn’t forget that feeling—not when Nina was soft beneath him, her cunt tight around him, her hands demanding as she pulled him closer. Then she kissed him, and he’d never known anything so divine as this, as having her everywhere in every way. Driven by mindless, frantic need, he grasped her lush hips and thrust hard.
Nina had kind of expected James to fuck her brains out, but she hadn’t been ready for this. No-one could be ready for this.
Her need for him was ravenous and unreasonable and it had teeth. When his thick cock shoved deep inside her, the sweet friction and the slick stretch and then the eventual, perfect glide made her eyes roll back in her head, made her toes curl, made tendrils of pleasure tighten around her limbs and hold her hostage. But it wasn’t enough to assuage the need. Not yet.
So she clung to him and met him thrust for thrust, revelling in his warmth and his strength and the raw, guttural sounds he made as he pounded into her. When he lowered his head to suck at her nipples again, she could’ve cried. His tongue swirling around her sensitive areola and his cock sliding over her G-spot and his pelvis rocking against her clit all conspired against her until she was practically sobbing, gasping out things she’d never thought she could say. “Oh my God, oh my God, I need you forever, don’t stop, don’t ever stop I can’t take it, fuck, James.” On and on, her pleasure spilled out like an ocean overflowing, and then, somehow, he made it worse.
Releasing her nipples, raising his lips to her ear, he talked back. And he talked dirty.
“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how good I fuck you.”
She’d love to, except she was suddenly unable to speak. All she could do was pant and moan pathetically, and rock against him desperately as pleasure rose to a crescendo.
And still, he talked, his voice smoke and whisky and hot, dark nights. “Jesus, Nina, you feel so good. And so fucking wet. I wish I could taste you and fuck you at the same time.” He pressed a hot kiss to her throat, then another, then another, until sensation zipped over her tender skin and her moans became ragged and desperate. “We might have to get creative,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I want to hold you down and suck your clit and feel you fucking yourself on a dildo for me. I want a lot of things from you, love.”
Hopefully one of them was an orgasm, because at that moment, she came.
James grabbed a handful of her hair and fucked her through it. While her body shook and her pussy tightened and her breath was forced from her lungs through sheer pleasure, he thrust into her again and again, so deep she felt it in her chest, so perfect she could die right then and have no regrets. And when he choked out her name a moment later, and held her to him, and found his release, she felt happier and deliciously filthier than she ever had in her life.
After that, time passed in a gentle haze of blurred vision and loose limbs. At some point she came back down to earth and found herself lying on her back, her sweat-damp skin cooling… until James slung one heavy thigh over her hips and wrapped his arms around her. Just like that, she was dragged under by his intoxicating scent and surrounded by his warmth, safer than she’d ever felt before. But even though she loved the position, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take
the piss.
“So you’re a snuggler,” she said wryly. “Interesting.”
“If you intend to complain,” he replied, his voice muffled against her hair, “just know that I’m not above kissing you to keep you quiet.”
She laughed, until an anxiety-inducing thought popped into her head, drowning out the amusement. “Are we… I mean, how do you…” Hm. That came a little too close to stuttering for Nina’s liking, so she pulled herself together and spat it out. “So, what is this?”
He held her tighter, which she hadn’t thought was possible. “You and me, you mean?”
“Yeah.” The fact that he’d spoken of them as a unit shouldn’t surprise her. She and James had been a pair for a long time, now. She just wasn’t sure if they’d suddenly become a couple, and her experience with that subtle difference was lacking, to say the least. She felt like she was fumbling around in the dark.
Or at least, she did until he said, “I’d like to think we’re in a relationship. What do you think about that?”
Peace fell like spring rain, dragging a goofy smile over her face. “I think I agree,” she said, trying not to sound too delighted. “A relationship. Yeah.” And then she added wryly, “Can’t wait to tell my brother.”
“Bedroom rule,” James said. “We don’t talk about your brother.”
She snorted. “Fair enough. But we do have to tell—”
James’s hand covered her mouth, not hard enough to really shut her up, but she got the message. Got it, and ignored it. With wicked amusement, she said against his palm, “You were supposed to be watching me.”
“I did watch you,” he deadpanned, “arguably too much. But I don’t really care what Mark thinks, because you’re an adult. And I know you don’t care either, so stop breaking the bedroom rule.” He moved his hand, setting the sound of her laughter free. Then, without warning, he shifted until he was on top of her, his sinful smile bright and beautiful. “Your official punishment,” he said seriously, “is one kiss.”
“Just one?”
“I’ll thank you not to diminish my excellent kisses. One is quite enough.”
Her laughter was cut off when his mouth pressed against hers, surprisingly sweet and achingly gentle. As his tongue traced her lower lip, Nina’s arousal flared—but it was a gentle thing compared to the other currents flooding her mind, the amusement and fond affection and…
She broke the kiss and blurted out, “I love you,” so full of the feeling she couldn’t possibly keep it in.
Of course, once she’d said it, she really wished that she had kept it in. In fact, she might’ve sacrificed a sheep—a small goat, at least—for the chance to cram those words back into her mouth. And since Nina had been a vegetarian since she was fourteen, that was a pretty major concession.
But once that desperate moment passed, she realised that actually, she’d rather not sacrifice any goats. Plus, it probably wouldn’t work. The point was, she’d said it, so she might as well go all in. “I’ve been in love with you for, like, three years. I don’t know. It kind of snuck up on me. But I thought you’d never see me in that way, so I tried to ignore it, and then I got this ridiculous idea about, like, seducing you.” She laughed nervously, her voice higher than usual, the sound quick. She had to keep talking, had to stretch out the moment in time when she was still doing this to avoid the moment in time when it would be totally, utterly done. “Obviously, that didn’t go very well—you kind of took it the wrong way—and I got pretty sensitive about the whole thing, I’m not gonna lie—I mean, you’re not obligated to want me—”
“Nina,” he interrupted gently.
She ignored him, her gaze focused on the smooth, white ceiling rather than his face. “But things are fixed now, I suppose, because we fucked, except maybe they’re not fixed because now I’m saying this—”
“Nina.”
“And probably messing things up again because really, who just says they—”
“I love you,” James said.
She froze. Shock sent her mind haywire until all she could splutter in response was, “Are you serious?”
“About loving you?” he asked mildly.
“No, about your choice in wallpaper. Yes, about loving me.”
“Antonina Chapman,” he smiled, “I am absolutely serious about loving you.”
He was always serious, after all. And yet, she pressed a hand to his cheek, unable to stop herself, and felt the rasp of stubble beneath her palm. “Really?”
His hand settled on her cheek and they were mirrors of each other. “Really.”
Still suspicious, she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
He burst out laughing, his whole body shaking with it, his smile brighter than the sun. “Oh, for God’s sake, Nina. Come here.”
And she did, because she knew he meant it. James Foster did not lie to Nina Chapman. That was one of the many laws of who they were together.
And here, now, as their lips met, was a new one. Freshly forged, but no less powerful than all the rest.
They loved each other. They loved each other. They loved each other.
6
“It’s been difficult, to say the least.”
James stood backstage and watched Nina’s face on the small flat-screen. After an hour in hair and makeup, she looked beautiful, if kind of… un-Nina-like. But she knew what she was doing. If she’d allowed someone to put her thick hair into a neat braid, even though the style gave her headaches, there must be a reason. And if she’d let them slather lipstick all over her, and was even remembering not to chew it off, there must be a reason. So he didn’t focus on the differences, or even on the delicate, fluttering movements she made with her hands, or the calculated pauses in her speech. He focused on her words.
Because, with her clever performance, Nina was saying the kind of things no-one got away with saying on TV.
“Of course,” Joanna agreed, nodding solemnly, her narrow mouth a moue of sympathetic understanding. “I mean, the kind of abuse you’ve received…” She paused, glanced at the vast screen behind the deceptively homey-looking sofa she and Nina were perched on. A scrolling view of the messages, tweets and comments Nina had gotten appeared, the profanity blurred until the whole thing was a sea of smudged black-and-white. “It must have shaken you.”
“The thing is,” Nina said, “I consider myself to be a strong woman. And I have a support network, too; people around me who love and protect me. But if I were more fragile, or alone, this could truly have torn me apart. Sometimes it seems to me that black women are seen as tough in a way that removes our humanity. People think that abusing us doesn’t matter as much, because we can take more than other people. That’s not the case. My real worry, in all this, is for black girls and young women who’ll see the messages I’ve received and wonder if those insults apply to them. That’s how hate poisons entire societies.”
Joanna murmured supportively before saying, “And what about those who are purely concerned with your politics? Because, as we’ve seen, some of the messages you received were atrocious—but there are others who have no problem with you personally, yet suggest that your beliefs are dangerous.”
Nina gave a small laugh, her dark eyes sparkling with what James knew was true amusement. She was handling all this very well, but she’d stayed up most of last night with nerves. She hadn’t been able to eat breakfast that morning. But now, she was laughing, and it was real, and he’d never been so proud of her.
She could find humour anywhere, despite her constant analysis of the world’s darkness. He didn’t think she realised how precious that was, but he’d make sure to remind her.
“I’m far from dangerous,” she said, her lips still curved into a sweet little smile. “I want education for all and honest government. My only rule is ‘do no harm’. If anyone doubts that, all they have to do is read my website and formulate an opinion for themselves.”
“Well,” Joanna said with a coy l
ittle glance at the camera, “you certainly don’t seem scary to me!”
Nina laughed again, and if he hadn’t known her so well, he’d have had no idea that this one was fake. “What rankles,” she said, “is that I’m being treated as a threat for writing an article about the Leave campaign’s proven duplicity—which is something I think Britain deserves to know about. Our government representatives should work for us, not trick us.”
Joanna nodded in silent—and therefore not-too-controversial—agreement.
“I don’t think sharing information like that is dangerous,” Nina went on. “What’s truly dangerous is the fact that someone attempted to dox me. That I’ve had online threats and harassment leak into my real life. Where’s the outcry against the people who threatened to kill me, who gave others the tools to try and do the job?” Her words were quiet, but that somehow made her passion more compelling.
“That’s an excellent question,” Joanna said. “I, for one, am disgusted. But, Nina, we’re running out of time here, so I’d like to end on a question for you: you’re very young, and yet you’ve been writing about politics, social issues, and what you consider to be injustices for years now. It doesn’t seem like any of your goals for the nation have come to fruition—in fact, with developments like Brexit and the current Tory government, things have been moving in the opposite direction. How does that make you feel?”
Nina looked straight at the camera, a sad smile on her face. “It makes me feel like the unfairness in the world may never end. But that’s okay, because hope never dies.”
Hope never dies.
She was wonderful. She was incredible. She was vital.
James had no doubt that Nina’s life would be extraordinary and her legacy brilliant. The world needed people like Antonina Chapman.
But all James needed was Nina.
Thank You
Rogue Nights Page 5