“Will you answer my other question, then?”
“Depends on if you show your ass again.”
He smiled, unable to keep it from spreading across his mouth. “How many people do you cuss in front of, princess?”
“I don’t cu—” She clamped her mouth shut, pressing her lips together as realization seemed to dawn on her.
“Pretty sure I’m the only one. Know what that tells me? You’re comfortable around me.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Know what it means when you’re comfortable?”
“I won’t have a problem kickin’ your rude butt straight outta my house?”
“Oh, I have no doubt about that. But I was thinkin’ something a little more…explosive.” He leaned closer until their noses nearly touched. “When you’re comfortable, coming’s as easy as pie.”
“Why do you insist on bein’ crude?” she asked, but her eyes were locked on his lips.
“Because it’s fun to rile you up. So, what do you say, princess? Wanna test my theory?”
Rory snapped her gaze up to his, then breathed out an incredulous laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
Oh, he was serious, all right. The state of his cock was a five-alarm fire. But the truth was, he’d be happy if his dick never even touched the air in Rory’s place, so long as she let him love all over her pussy with his fingers and his mouth. So long as she sat back and relaxed long enough to come from his efforts.
He reached over, plucked her hand from her lap and placed it in his, directly over his aching cock. “Does this feel like I’m jokin’?”
Rory’s lips parted, her eyes glazing over as she gave his dick a tentative squeeze. She dropped her gaze, connecting it with the hard ridge behind his fly. Then she licked her lips and squeezed his cock again.
Nash groaned, pressing his forehead to her temple. So close but not nearly close enough. “Yes or no, princess? You gonna let me test my theory or what?”
RORY DIDN’T KNOW what to do with herself. She was thirty-three years old, and she didn’t have enough experience to even begin to know what to do. She knew what she was supposed to do by other people’s standards—“good girls” didn’t sleep around, and they certainly didn’t do so with their youngest sister’s best friend.
But heaven help her, she wanted this—wanted him—even though it didn’t make sense. Even though in the morning she’d probably be horrified. Even though it went against what had been beaten into her head for more than half her life. And even though she could never, ever tell her sisters about it, least of all Nat.
Even with all those red flags flapping in the breeze, Rory didn’t care. She ignored her better judgment—because, really, that judgment had had her marrying a man she wasn’t even sure she’d ever loved and staying with him until he’d ended it for them both. It had her pleasing other people at the expense of herself. Maybe it was time she tried doing something because she wanted to instead of because she should.
“You’re killin’ me,” he said, bringing her attention back to him and how she still had her fingers curled around his very hard, very thick, very long erection.
She nearly jerked her hand back out of reflex, but she kept it there. Gave another squeeze, swallowing a moan when the beast hiding behind his zipper jerked in response. “What, um…” She cleared her throat. “What exactly are you gonna do to try to prove your theory?”
He was so close, his harsh breaths panting against her ear reminding her whatever this was between them, he felt it too. He breathed out a laugh. “Never took you for someone who liked dirty talk.”
“That’s not—”
He covered her hand with his, pressing it harder against his length. “Yes or no, princess? Much as I love your hands on me, I’m dyin’ to get mine on you.”
Heaven help her, but she loved the sound of that. She swallowed back her apprehension, swallowed back the ingrained response that had been burned into her brain for so long. And she leaped. “I can’t promise anything, but you can try.”
Nash pulled back, his eyes so full of lust, she nearly melted into a puddle of goo on her couch. “Oh, I’m gonna try, all right. All night long, if that’s what it takes.”
All night? Oh my word, she didn’t know if she’d be able to handle Nash for an hour, let alone all night. Was that what twenty-five-year-olds did now? Had marathon sex that lasted hours upon hours? It’d been so long since she’d done this, what if she screwed it up? What if he wanted some kind of fancy new thing she’d never even heard of? He’d be sorely disappointed if he tried to contort her into some kind of convoluted Kama Sutra position. She did her yoga three times a week, but she wasn’t twenty anymore.
Oh shit, what if he took one look at the stretch marks on her stomach and hips, or those extra fifteen pounds that’d settled around her ass and thighs after having the girls, and ran in the other direction?
“Time to get you outta your head, princess.” He breathed the words against her ear, and then he pressed his lips to her neck and laved openmouthed kisses along the length of it.
It…worked. The whimper escaped her before she even knew it was coming, and she melted back into the couch, tilting her head to the side to make room for his questing mouth. Her nipples were hard points against her shirt, and the throbbing between her legs was incessant. A steady, relentless thrum that did not want to be ignored.
She jumped when Nash’s hand settled on her side, his thumb brushing softly against the exposed skin between her T-shirt and leggings. Instead of shoving it under her shirt and going straight for her breasts like she thought he would, he left his hand there. Ran his thumb back and forth, back and forth, until she was a tight ball of need, squirming against him.
He squeezed her hip and groaned into her neck. “You feel even better than I’d imagined, and I’ve barely touched you.”
“You’ve…imagined?” She certainly wasn’t going to fess up to how many times Nash’s face had appeared in her nightly visions while she had some solo fun between her sheets. But, well, if he wanted to divulge that information, she wasn’t going to stop him.
He breathed out a choked laugh. “So much imaginin’, I think I’ve built up a new callus on my palm.”
The laugh that bubbled out of her was caught in the air between them as he captured her lips with his, sweeping his tongue into her mouth without hesitation. She threw her arms around him, pulling him closer, so desperate to feel his weight pressing down on her.
Somehow, in the blink of an eye, she was horizontal on the couch with Nash hovering over her, settled in the cradle of her spread thighs. He continued kissing her, rolling his hips and pressing his thick length against her clit in a rhythm that was clearly made to drive her mad.
Without thought, she reached down and gripped his ass, pulling him more forcefully into her. Her body was a live wire, one big bundle of desperation, and her mind raced with thoughts of what it’d be like to feel him pushing inside her. Filling her…stretching her… Making her wild with need.
“Shit, Rory.” He pressed down hard and ground against her, making the ache inside bloom fresh with longing. “Can you come like this?”
The words jolted her out of her lust-induced trance, and she tensed beneath him.
“That wasn’t me pushin’, princess.” He lifted up on his arms and hovered over her, running a single finger from her temple to her chin. “Just plain old curiosity.”
“I don’t—” She tried to swallow down her nerves and her inadequacies, the whispered words that had settled so deep in her mind, it was as if they’d always been there. “I’m not sure…”
He sat back on his knees and fingered the hem of her T-shirt. “Can I take this off?”
She darted her eyes to the lights surrounding them, casting what was no doubt an unflattering glow over every inch of her. Reaching backward and arching against the couch, she fumbled toward the lamp, trying to get to the knob. “Can we just…”
Nash caught her hand before
she could turn off the light and moved it down to rest once again against where he was so thick behind his zipper. “I’m not this hard because of a breeze, princess. I’m this hard because it’s you under me. If it’ll get you out of your head long enough to come against my tongue, then we can shut off the lights.” He brushed his fingertips over her stomach, against the waistband of her leggings, a featherlight touch designed to drive her wild. “But I’ve been fantasizing about this for ten years, and I’d really, really like to see every inch of you.”
She relaxed back onto the couch, her mind whirring with everything he’d said. First of all, his tongue? She’d never had someone’s mouth on her, and her clit thrummed harder at the thought. Second, ten years? What in the—
But then Nash was sliding his hand along her side, under her shirt, and all thought promptly left her head. He stopped just below the swell of her breasts, and she held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d thought she’d feel apprehension at this point. Some kind of bone-deep hesitation at letting him touch one of her most intimate parts. Instead, she desperately wanted him to move. To cup her breasts and run his thumb over her nipples. Wanted his mouth on them, too.
She wasn’t comfortable enough yet to voice those thoughts, so instead, she arched against him and brought one of her hands to his upper arm. She wrapped her fingers around his biceps, squeezing and pulling and hoping with everything in her that he got the silent message she sent.
With a groan, he lifted his hand, and then that rough, callused palm caressed her breast, lifting the weight of it and giving it a gentle squeeze. He dropped down, resting his forehead on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, his harsh breaths against her skin a constant reminder that he was as affected as her.
As much as she wanted to see his face, to watch him as he felt her, this was easier. Baby steps. She couldn’t very well be expected to go from a nun-like sexual status to a no-inhibitions porn star in the span of a single day. And he’d somehow realized it without her even having to say a word.
“Been dreaming about these perfect little tits too. Fuck.” He cupped her breast with one hand and moved the other under her, gripping her ass and tugging her up.
The move had her balancing on her shoulders against the couch, their lower bodies grinding against each other, and it’d never before been like this. Never, in all her years, had she experienced anything like this. Not just the dirty talk—which, yeah, she’d definitely never encountered before, but if her throbbing clit was any indication, she was a fan—but all of it. His hands and his mouth and his words. This was foreplay. This was exactly what she read about in the romance books she kept in the drawer of her bedside table. This was what sex was supposed to be, and they hadn’t even gotten to the sex yet.
An ache built in her chest, a tightness in her throat over all she’d missed in the years she’d settled for lousy sex with an even lousier partner.
She was so done. So completely done. Ready to shed that part of her life and never, ever look back.
Apprehension still flickered at the corners of her mind, but she ignored it and listened to the new voice in her head. The one that said she deserved this, and it was about damn time she got it.
“I want to see you.” With hungry fingers, she tugged up the back of Nash’s shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers.
He was too focused on her body to reach back and tug it off, so she did it for him, pulling and pulling and pulling until he made a frustrated noise in his throat and separated from her just long enough to yank it off and toss it to the side. Then he did the same to hers, sweeping the thin, worn shirt up and off her until she was bare beneath him, her tiny breasts and silvery wisps of stretch marks spider-webbing out from the waistband of her leggings on full display.
But before she could panic, before those worries and nerves could consume her, he said, “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” And then he descended on her with a groan, his mouth going straight to her breasts, his tongue circling her tight nipples.
On a gasp, she arched into him, wrapping her hand around the back of his head and holding him to her. He flicked and sucked and tugged, and the thrum between her legs only grew more pronounced, more insistent. She needed… Needed… She didn’t know, but she hoped like hell he did. Friction, suction, pressure, more, more, more.
And she couldn’t wait for him to give it to her.
Nash had died and gone to heaven. That was the only explanation for the angel lying beneath him on the couch, her nipple in his mouth and her whimpers in his ear. Christ, what had he done in his life to deserve this? She was his every teenage fantasy come to life, and he was just grateful this happened after he knew what to do with a woman like her.
And Rory? She was going to come before the night was through. Even if he had to spend two hours between her legs, even if his tongue cramped and his jaw locked, he wasn’t leaving her pussy until he felt it pulse around him.
When she was a squirming, incoherent pile of limbs beneath him and her breasts were pink from his stubble, her nipples glistening from his mouth, he slid down the length of her body. Pressed a kiss to the under-curve of her breast, licked a circle around her belly button, brushed his stubbled chin back and forth against her lower stomach as he tugged the leggings from her body.
Initially, she’d been a tight bundle of anxiety, but he couldn’t find an ounce of it still remaining. She didn’t hesitate or stiffen as he divested her of her last articles of clothing, her panties going over his shoulder the way of her leggings. And then she was spread out before him, a centerfold come to life. He gripped her lush hips, digging his fingers into the soft flesh before bringing his hands together between her legs, his thumbs sweeping over her pussy. She was soft and smooth and glistening, and he needed to put his tongue on all that pink.
With a groan, he slid off the couch, kneeling next to it and tugging her ass to the edge. He pressed his palms to her inner thighs and spread her legs wide for him.
She shifted, her hands fluttering around her as if she didn’t quite know what to do with them. “Nash, I’m—”
“Fucking gorgeous here too.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her left thigh and then her right, smiling against her skin when he found a strawberry-shaped birthmark there. He traced around it with his tongue, his cock positively throbbing at the sound of her whimper.
Her pussy was wet—drenched—and he couldn’t wait another second to taste it. With his thumbs, he pulled her apart and gave a long lick up the length of her slit, swirling his tongue around her clit before swiping back down again.
“Oh my word,” Rory breathed, her hand snapping to the back of his head as if she were afraid he was thinking about leaving.
He smiled against her clit, brushing his lower lip back and forth across the swollen bud. “I’m gonna have you screamin’ ‘fuck’ before this night is through.”
“You’ll do no such—”
As soon as he sucked her clit into his mouth, her words cut off on a gasp before turning into nonsensical rambling, but he got the gist. Don’t you ever fucking stop doing this, Nash King.
He slipped one, then two fingers inside her, pumping them slowly, reading her body language and giving her what he thought she wanted without her saying a word. When she got restless, her hips jerking in small circles, he worked his fingers inside her faster, pulling back and thrumming his thumb against her clit at a quick pace. When she ground down, he added another finger, pressed them deep, and suctioned hard on her clit. When she tensed and clutched her hands to either side of his head, her thighs pressing against him and her breath and body held taut as if she were worried an exhale would scare the orgasm away, he didn’t move a damn inch. Didn’t alter his movements even a fraction.
And when she squeezed his fingers as she came, a startled gasp flying from her, he tried real goddamn hard not to smile. Tried and failed. He brushed his tongue and his lips against her, slowly pumping his fingers inside her, until she finally jerked her sensitiv
e flesh away from his touch.
He kissed a path up her body, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth until she hummed in her throat and lifted her hips toward him.
“You—” she panted, breathless. “I…”
“Came all over my face. Imagine that.”
A flush swept up her chest to her neck before settling in her cheeks. “I cannot believe you just said that to me.”
He grinned, loving these two sides of her. She’d just practically ridden his tongue but was suddenly shy over a few words. “Aw, c’mon, princess. Don’t go gettin’ all prim and proper on me now. Not when you were tugging me closer to your pussy and fucking yourself with my fingers.”
Her mouth dropped open on a gasp. “Nash King—”
“Love it when you say my name like that.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”
“So you’ve told me.”
“And yet you haven’t changed.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”
She narrowed her eyes and tightened her mouth—a look that’d no doubt had lesser men cowering in the corner—but didn’t say a word.
“That’s what I thought.” He stood from where he’d been kneeling on the floor and leaned over her, resting his hands on either side of her shoulders. Her hair was in total disarray, her body flushed and sweaty and completely, gloriously naked, and he couldn’t believe she was his for the night. “Get ready, ’cause I’m about to do something incorrigible again.”
“What are you—” Her words were swallowed up by a squeal when he lifted her over his shoulder and palmed her bare ass as he strode down the hallway to her bedroom. “Put me down!”
“No can do, princess. Much as I’ll always have a fondness for that couch, I don’t want to fuck you for the first time on it.” He turned his head and pressed his teeth into the curve of her hip, giving her ass a little swat. “Maybe some other time.”
Hometown Troublemaker (Havenbrook Book 2) Page 10