by Sara Cate
My cock flinches in my heavy soaking wet shorts I’m suddenly fucking desperate to get off. Giving him a squeeze against my body, I purposefully press my hard length against him. I want him to feel it, remember it. And not like he did the other day, like some sort of hate fuck. I want him to feel it and want it.
When he groans into my mouth, I celebrate inwardly. That was enough of an answer to me.
Nash and I break the kiss, and both turn to see Hanna biting her lip and staring at us with lust in her eyes. “Fuck, that was hot,” she gasps before latching onto my body.
When Nash disappears, I almost panic until he returns a moment later with a large rolled blanket in his hands. Hanna is pulling down my shorts when he throws the blanket out onto the floor in the broad space between two helicopters. That’s when her bottoms come off and the three of us are completely naked, our wet clothes in a puddle of water on the floor.
Her warm hand wraps around my cock, and I let out a growl, squeezing her tighter to my body. Then, he’s there, stealing her kisses, and we are a flurry of hands and mouths and skin until Hanna is flat on the blanket, laid out like a buffet for Nash and I to devour. With every taste of her skin from the gentle slope of her waist to the soft flesh of her thighs, I become more and more intoxicated by her. Desperate for more, hopelessly addicted until my mouth finds her center, burying my tongue deep inside her just to see the way it makes her hips buck and squirm.
Gazing up over her body while I’m still deep in her warm folds, I watch as she takes Nash into her mouth, much like last night, but this time, he’s letting me in. My eyes find his face every moment or so gauging whether or not he’s going to push me out, putting the emotional barrier up like he always does, afraid to set himself up for pain again, but he doesn’t, and when I sit upright, her juices still on my face, he snatches my chin and licks them straight off my lips.
Hanna moans, something guttural from her belly as her legs wrap around my hips and pull me forward.
“Fuck me, Ellis,” she cries.
It would seem I am no longer calling the shots. In fact, Hanna has had control of this whole thing, hasn’t she? From the very first kiss in the rain, she’s had the reins, and as I align my cock at her entrance, I let go of my need to control, and I give in to her. It’s not something I do often, but even I’m having a hard time holding back.
So, with one powerful thrust, I’m deep inside her warmth, and the empty hangar sings with the echoes of our lust. It is the pounding flesh against flesh with moans and heavy breathing, and it’s far more than anything we ever did in Amsterdam. It’s more because of her.
“Hanna,” I moan while I move inside her, lost in her eyes.
Covering her body with mine, I watch as she takes Nash into her mouth again, but I see the struggle in her angle. “Come here,” I beckon, pulling her up. Then with a quick flip, I lie on my back and help her settle her hips back down.
She bounces hard on my cock, all the while working him to the point where his mouth hangs open, pure ecstasy written on his face.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I moan, helping her to keep a steady rhythm.
“So perfect,” he repeats, stroking her still wet hair out of her face.
I’m on the edge, so fucking close, but she hasn’t finished yet, so I press a thumb to her clit and pick up the speed, slamming roughly. She lets out a muffled cry, pulling Nash out of her mouth as she falls swiftly toward her climax.
“I’m so close,” she moans, still stroking him at the same fast tempo I’m thrusting into her, and it’s like the growing electricity in the room strikes us all at once. She goes tense and breathless at the same exact moment Nash releases, the warm jets landing against her chest.
God I want to come in her so fucking bad, but I wait for her to ride out her climax before I let myself go, pulling her off in a rush as it slams into me. Tremors quake through my body, my fingers digging into her hips as I come.
We’re all left panting. Nash is still on his knees next to me as he leans down to press his lips to Hanna’s neck, cheek, and lips, like he’s worshipping, and I watch the way he devotes himself to her. And it hits me that I can’t take this away from him. And it hurts. Leaving her, leaving him.
As she collapses onto my chest, not caring we’re both sticky and covered, I gather her into my arms, feeling the erratic beat of her heart against my chest. Nash gets up and jogs away, disappearing between the parked aircrafts. When he returns a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth, he takes care in wiping us both clean, placing a kiss on her cheek before his eyes freeze on my face.
This isn’t like Amsterdam, I want to tell him, but I don’t. And maybe he knows. This is different. She’s different. She’s…more.
18
It takes another hour for the storm to subside. Our clothes are still soaked and too cold to put back on, so the three of us are left riding back to the house wrapped in towels. As I drop off Hanna in front of the guest house, she climbs off and stares back at us. It’s only a little after three in the afternoon, and with the sky clearing up, I see the question brewing on Hanna’s face as she turns toward me, clutching her towel to her chest.
"Is it still safe to fly?" she asks, looking at the helicopter parked behind me on the helipad.
I could say no. I could tell her some shit about the weather or about how I don't fly after storms because of what happened to my brother, but that would be bullshit, and Hanna deserves better than that.
"It's safe."
Next to me, I see Ellis clench his jaw, but I keep my eyes on her, hoping she remembers our conversation at the restaurant. How much I'll change to make this work. How hard I'll try, yeah even after what just happened. Even after I watched another man fuck her. I still want her to stay.
She's contemplative, chewing on her lip and thinking it over.
"Your apartment won’t be ready until the first of the month." His deep voice cuts right through the tension between Hanna and me, making us both look his way. "Stay with us for a few more days."
I wish I could understand what he wants. I can see his attraction to Hanna, but not that long ago he was talking about how he never let go of things between us.
But as I watched them together, I noticed how different he was with her than the other girls I’ve seen him with. There’s a connection between them, something I almost feel guilty about wanting to break.
Hanna looks at him, her expression relaxing as she nods. "Okay, maybe a couple more days."
"The launch party is next weekend," I add, remembering after the acquisition there's a big event in the city at the Wilde Aviation headquarters. "Stay until then. I'll take you back that night."
"Next weekend?" she asks, looking first at me then at Ellis. Technically it's almost two weeks away, but I don't add that part in.
"You can go back whenever you want, Hanna," he adds. "But it would be very empty out here without you."
At that she smiles, a warm, pleasant expression, and I hate how fucking smooth he is. No one talks about what just happened or about the fact that if she stays, we're all hoping and expecting it to happen again, and I'm still waiting for time to stop for a moment so I can really figure out if this is what I fucking want. Do I want him in on this? No, I want her to myself.
But then I remember how hot she was riding him, her tits bouncing as she chased her orgasm, him taking over at the exact moment she needed him to. And yeah, I did get off on that, like I did in Amsterdam, but fuck, this is Hanna.
This is Zara's Hanna. What am I doing?
"No pressure, Hanna. Whatever you want to do, baby."
"I know," she answers with that signature Hanna sass. "I'm going to shower up and I'll meet you guys at the house for dinner, okay?"
"Okay," we both reply in unison.
Ellis and I don't talk as we pull away, taking the UTV to the house where I park it and we start unloading the cooler and gear. It's when we finally end up inside and we nearly collide in the laundry room where he toss
es the dirty towels and clothes that he finally says something.
"This isn't Amsterdam," he mutters.
I stop in my tracks, turning on him and giving him a scowl.
Fucking relax, Nash.
"You don't think I know that?"
"Well, maybe I'm telling you, so you know that I know that."
He folds his arms over his bare chest, the white towel still cinched around his waist, and it takes serious concentration on my part to keep my eyes from falling down there.
"After the launch party, she will go home, and you will fly back to your office, and all of this will be over. You'll stay away from her."
He grinds his teeth together, his brown eyes boring into me, and I feel my heart race. "That's the deal," he adds before turning away and heading down the hallway that leads to his room.
But my dumb ass wants to know something that's been on my mind since the storm. "Did you mean any of that shit out there? In the rain?"
He stops, slowly turning and holding his chin high, glaring down at me impatiently. "Remind me, Nash. A lot has happened since then."
I swallow my nerves. "You said.” I clear my throat. "You said I was all you wanted. You said you cared. Is that true?"
He scoffs, shaking his head, and relaxing his shoulders, but then a look of anger crosses over his features. As he glares at me, I feel myself shrink in his gaze. It's not the Ellis attention I want. And as he steps toward me, I know whatever he's about to say I'm not going to like.
"No."
It's such a simple response I'm not sure I understand, furrowing my brow at him. But I wait for him to continue.
"As far as you're concerned, Nash, I didn't mean a fucking word of it. I'm not going back again, not with you." He steps toe to toe with me, pushing me back as a show of dominance, and I stumble back because I don't have it in me to fight with him anymore. "You will never understand what it's like for anyone to love you, Nash. How perfect you fill this space," he says pointing to his chest. "You are this untamable animal except you fuck with hearts and heads, and I fell for it once, Nash Wilde. I won't fall for it again, so no, I didn't mean shit I said out there. And if you choose to pursue Hanna, I beg you to do her right. If you fill that space in her heart, don't run from it. Don't leave her like you left me."
With that, he spins away, leaving me with my confusion. "So, what if I told you I don't want you touching her again? Would you listen to me?"
"If I thought that's what you really wanted, I would."
I'm about to shout that it is what I really want, but I’m too busy running his words through my head, replaying every single one of them. Walking to my room, I drop my towel on the tile floor as I lean against the cool countertop, my mind spinning with his words.
That first night three years ago replays in my mind again and again. Asking myself if it was a mistake. Doing what we did. It didn’t feel like a mistake at the time, but damn, I was so deep into his mind fuck I wasn’t thinking clearly.
But it was just fun…until it was more than fun. At least for me. He never felt anything for me like I felt for him. This is Ellis fucking Prior. He could have literally anyone, so why the fuck would he want me? Why is he acting like I broke his heart or some shit? I mean, yeah I get I was a dickhead that night, and sure what I did was fucked up, but he can’t still be stuck on me like that.
I’m moving on with Hanna. Everything with her will be so much easier, and I will be happy. I can watch my temper, be better for her. He’ll step back and when he leaves here at the end of the month I’ll finally be at peace, knowing I mended our friendship. I made things right. Buried the hatchet. Said my piece. And he’s fine.
But fuck…he said love. The motherfucker said love. How I don’t know what it’s like for anyone to love me. I don’t make it that fucking hard. He didn’t love me. He’s trying to get in my head again, and I have to ignore it. Keep my eyes forward, be better for Hanna.
No, fuck this.
Shoving away from the counter, not even caring that I’m stark-ass-naked, I march out of my room, down the hall and across the house toward Ellis’s wing, once my dad’s. The shower is running, and I don’t give a fuck as I burst into the bathroom.
The sight of him, standing under the dual shower heads, clouded in steam, his golden tan skin and dark chest hair through the hazy shower glass making me pause. Why does he still have such an effect on me? He’s not in my head anymore. I’m not the same guy I was in Amsterdam.
I stand there silent and stupid for a moment before the shower door opens slowly and he lifts his chin at me. It’s a dare, and not an inviting one. Every tiny feature on his face is telling me not to fuck with him, but I don’t understand how he is still fucking with me so much. Why do I want to climb into the shower, rub his wet body against mine, feel the length of his hardness against me…inside me.
“Fuck!” I bark at him before bolting out of the room. I’m not doing this again. I’m not.
As I reach my hallway again, I try not to think about the urge billowing inside me, the sudden fucking need to go back into that bathroom and shut off every thought in my head with his body.
Instead, I clench my fist and drive it hard against the drywall of my bedroom. The plaster cracks as the pain travels like lightning up my arm and l swallow down the urge to scream.
Why did I bring him here and why the fuck can’t I just move on?
19
Amsterdam
I can’t focus. Truth be told, I haven’t been able to focus on much at all lately, not when every free moment of my day is spent thinking about that night last week and everything that happened. The feel of that paddle in my hands, the way it felt making contact with her backside, the pain that came out in cries from her mouth, and then of course, the sight of him, tongue out and tasting me.
Tasting me.
“Fuck,” I mutter, tossing my laptop aside on the couch. There’s no denying the thoughts in my head, and they are fucked up. He’s my friend. No, actually, he’s my dad’s friend. Not to mention, a man, and if I was into dick, surely, I’d know by now. Wouldn’t I?
Picking up my phone, I shoot him a quick text.
What’s the plan tonight?
His response comes back immediately.
There is no plan. Come over.
I’m staring at my phone for a long time. I could call it an early night, say I’m not feeling well, pass on any plans like drinking or inviting some girls over.
I won’t, but I could.
Instead, I go to the bathroom, fix my hair, throw on some cologne, and march out the door. On the ride over, I rehearse the plan in my head. We are going to drink. Maybe call someone. Maybe go out to the bar. At the end of the night, I will ride home. No more staying over, especially not in his bed. No more blurring these lines.
It’s not my fault Zara fucked me up so bad, but I can’t spiral like this. That’s all this is. Maybe I’ll call my therapist tomorrow, talk a little more about those phases of grief. Is wanting to fuck your best friend one of them? Probably not.
Ugh, the thought turns sour in my head. Get your shit together, Nash. It’s fucking embarrassing.
Regardless of the silent pep talk in the tram on the way over, I’m a ball of nerves when I get to Ellis’s apartment. Using the extra key he gave me, I slip inside, hoping to wipe every thought from my head. But he’s not in the living room or kitchen when I enter.
“I’m in the office,” he calls, and I give him a nonchalant response that sounds way too forced in my head. Why is my voice coming out all deep like this? What the fuck is wrong with me?
Slipping off my shoes, I go to the kitchen first. I need a drink. The fridge is stocked with beers, Heineken of course, so I grab one and pop the top, downing almost all of it at once. Hopefully this will help calm my damn nerves. The nerves I’m feeling for no fucking reason at all.
Now that I think about it…drinking probably isn’t the best idea. Oh well, I think as I finish the bottle.
“Co
me take a look at this for me,” he calls from the office. Even his voice has the hairs on my arm standing.
After tossing my bottle in the recycling bin under the sink, I head toward the office with every fucking intention of sticking to my plan. What I don’t expect is Ellis standing there in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in nothing but a pair of loose jeans, no shirt, and still-wet hair from the shower.
I pause in the doorway. He’s facing his desk, holding a few papers in his hands.
“Read this and tell me if you can find a clause about confidential provisions. I’m not signing shit until I know it’s clean and my lawyer won’t be up until tomorrow morning. She’s in the states.”
He’s rambling, and I barely hear a word, my eyes glued to the way those jeans hug his ass. After a moment of me not answering, he finally turns toward me with an arch in his brow.
“Here, take a look.” He holds a paper out to me, and I silently step forward taking it from his hands and trying to read the words on the page, but like the work manual I was supposed to be studying today, the words don’t register. My brain is literally not working.
Instead, I smell the fresh soap on his skin. The product in his hair. The aftershave on his face. And I remember last week when he uttered the words, “I’ve been with men.” That electric shock of arousal hits my nervous system like a storm.
I let the paper settle on the desk and tell myself I need to leave.
I need to leave now.
But I don’t. Instead, I turn toward him, letting my gaze settle on his face when he finally looks up from his paper and stares back. At first his expression is shrouded in curiosity, until his eyes meet mine, and maybe my internal struggle is written all over my face. Maybe I’m not fucking discrete at all, but his face slacks and he gazes back at me like he knows.