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“Cornered me in the café,” I say. “Told me that I’m embarrassing myself and need to leave.”
“And instead you’re…” he trails off, still not making the connection.
“I’m doing what I want to do,” I say, echoing Mickey’s words.
A hunger like a lion’s passes through Nick’s eyes. He grabs my upper arms in his powerful grip but then stops himself one last time. “Are you sure?” he asks seriously. “Is this what you want?”
“Absolutely,” I say without hesitation.
He moves like a viper, striking to sweep me off my feet so quickly the world spins. But I feel safe all the same in his arms. He doesn’t even waste time heading to the bedroom. We fall together onto the sofa in the center of the gorgeous living room. His mouth is on my neck, his hands reaching beneath my t-shirt.
I groan as a finger works on my nipple. It’s as stiff as he is; I can feel him jutting through his pants. I reach down, press against his cock. The sound he makes fills me with want — to touch him, to taste him, to feel him inside me.
His mouth is by my ear and he whispers into it, “I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you on that train.”
I want to respond, but his mouth again finds my neck, my jawline, my mouth. He’s fast and strong, touching everywhere, overwhelming me. I’m powerless against him. Initially so full of agency now reduced to a jumbled tangle of raw nerves as his hand reaches between my legs, grinding one of those long fingers against my clit.
Even through the thick fabric it’s enough to make me jerk and buck.
As if reading my mind, Nick realizes the clothes need to go. Immediately. He sits back, leaving me gasping and whips off his suit jacket so quickly I hear it tear.
“Be careful,” I manage to get out.
“I have plenty,” he says. As if to prove the point — or maybe just because of his eagerness — he rips his dress shirt off, not bothering to undo the buttons.
I shriek playfully and he falls on me, his forearms on either side of my head, his forehead pressed to mine. “Save that,” he says low in his throat. “In a minute I’m going to give you something to scream about.”
God, he’s so hot when he lets himself go like this. Buttoned-up Office Nick is out the window. This is the passionate man I’ve gotten glimpses of so many times but rarely for long. This is the man I’m falling in love with.
He sits back up, still straddling me, and I can finally see his bare chest, his rigid abs, the powerful muscles brushed with dark hair. He looks more like a dock worker than a white-collar professional, rugged and masculine and sexy beyond words.
I rip my own shirt off as he stands, working on his suit pants and then helping me pull my jeans over my hips. He stops for a moment once I’m laid bare before him. He shakes his head, his eyes traveling the length of me.
It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. Unsurprisingly Brent and I were in a dry spell, something I’d stupidly thought getting married might fix. In the past months, I’ve sometimes stared at my naked body in the mirror, wondering what it was that made Brent go searching for something new. My breasts aren’t as large as Cheryl’s. My hips curvier, my stomach not flat as a board from dedicated spin classes. But the way Nick is looking at me now makes me feel like the hottest woman on the planet, like every part of me is perfect.
“Better than I even imagined,” he growls. “So fucking hot.”
He hasn’t removed his briefs yet and I sit up, push him back a step while looking up into his eyes. Then I pull them down, freeing the monster from its cloth confines.
Holy shit. Is there such thing as a perfect dick? I suppose its individual. In my life I haven’t seen more than a few in the flesh, but I instantly know there isn’t another for me. It’s long and thick and slightly curved, pulsing visibly before me. I plunge forward, taking him in my mouth.
The noise he makes is indescribable and it only makes me work harder. He’s solid steel beneath me, musky, delicious. I swirl my tongue around his head and try to take him deeper. His hands are threaded in my hair and I look up for a moment, catch his strained face, the eyes clenched tightly shut. Every muscle on his body is defined, taut. Mine.
He rips back with a grunt, forcing himself away.
“Everything okay?” I ask. He coughs, shakes himself.
“Too early,” he says.
“Sure about that?” I ask, reaching for him.
He sidesteps me, intent on regaining control. Then his eyes narrow and they train on my pussy. “I’m sure,” he says. “Now it’s my turn.”
One of those massive hands presses gently but firmly against my shoulder until I’m lying flat against the couch again. He kisses my mouth, looming over my body. Warmth emanates from his cock and strikes my thigh. Then he moves and the throbbing shaft grazes my skin. We both seize. Nick’s hand, grasping my hip, squeezes sharply and I gasp.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, ripping his hand away.
“It’s okay,” I say. The skin is tender and his powerful hand traces the mark he’d accidentally left.
