Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
CERYS
T his was a bad idea.
As soon as the floodwater cleared, he’d be gone. There were no ifs or buts about it.
Nick Davies never stuck around. Not eight years ago, and certainly not now. So why was I opening myself up to hurt? Letting old feelings and a few shared laughs cloud my judgement, knowing he had and always would choose his music career over anything — or anyone — else.
Of all the people to rebound on, did you have to pick him?
Was it a rebound if I’d been tragically single for eight years?
Even so, guilt twisted in my gut.
Yet I couldn’t tear my lips from his. All my reservations began to melt like cheese on hot toast. My fingers threaded through his damp hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. His mouth was hot and insistent, his tongue exploring mine with an intensity that left me breathless.
Maybe it was the adrenaline from the day’s unexpected turn, or the intimacy of being stranded together, but everything about this moment felt both inevitable and terrifying. I wanted him — had always wanted him, if I was honest with myself. But could I handle the fallout when he left again?
Nick trailed kisses along my jaw and down my neck, nibbling and licking the water from my skin. My head lolled back against the tiled wall, a sigh escaping me.
I should stop this.
But then he dragged his lips down my neck, pinning me to the wall with his body. All coherent thought melted away.
His breath was hot as he nipped at the curve where my neck met my shoulder. It set off a cascade of goosebumps, each one tingling like the first rush of cold air on a winter morning. Hands roamed over me, tracing the curves of my breasts. He cupped them gently, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I arched into his touch, my body craving more.
But he took his time, his touch reverent, almost worshipful while the calluses on his fingertips added a layer of roughness to his gentle caress.
I rocked my hips, seeking friction, enjoying the way his hardness slid against my clit. Waves of pleasure radiated from that point of contact, sending heat spiralling through my veins. His mouth found my breast, his tongue and lips teasing my nipple, sucking and licking until I was a writhing mess of need, drawing out a gasp from deep within me. He repeated the action with the other breast, driving me wild.
Nick reclaimed my lips in a slow, drugging kiss, while his hands slid down to my thighs, then back up to my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh with a possessive grip. Every part of him was taut and ready.
His hands gripped my ass, cupping it firmly, pulling me even closer, heightening the tiny bursts of friction that were driving me mad with desperation.
I was lost in the sensation, lost in him. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of us, our bodies pressed together, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating in sync.
The first flicker of an orgasm fluttered inside of me and I moaned. I ground against him harder, chasing the release I so desperately needed. His hand slipped between us, his fingers finding my clit with unerring accuracy. He rubbed slow circles, applying just the right amount of pressure to send me spiralling over the edge.
I cried out, clinging to him as waves of pleasure crashed over me. He stilled, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged and hot on my face.
“Cerys,” Nick rasped, his voice rough with desire and emotion. “Are you sure you want to keep going?”
No. Yes. Maybe.
“If you stop now, I’ll turn all your drumsticks into firewood and make you play with cheese wheels instead!” I blurted out, my cheeks flushing as I realised how ridiculous and desperate I sounded.
Nick burst out laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s a new one.”
His amusement was infectious, and I found myself grinning back at him.
“But I’m serious. I need you to fuck me. Right now.” My eyes narrowed at the note of desperation in my tone.
If I could convince him — and myself — that this was just a fleeting moment, maybe I could watch him leave without shattering completely. Self-preservation was a fine art, and right now, I was Vermeer.
“But this doesn’t change anything. When we get out of this shower, I still won’t...”
Nick circled his thumb around my nipple, smirking as my words trailed off into a moan.
“You seem to like me just fine right now.”
Oh, who was I kidding? The chances of getting out of this unscathed were about as slim as finding a unicorn in the Welsh countryside.
“Just fuck me already.”
Nick’s eyes darkened with desire and something deeper. He adjusted our position, lining himself up at my entrance. His hard cock pressed against me. But he paused, and for a moment, I panicked, thinking he’d changed his mind.
“I don’t have a condom,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m clean, but?—”
“I’m on the pill. Just get inside me.”
With a groan, he slid into me, filling me completely. I gasped at the sensation, my body stretching to accommodate him. It had been so long — too long — since I’d been filled at all.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Nick growled, his eyes locked onto mine. “So tight, so perfect.”
He quickly made me realise the problem had been the men I’d picked since Gareth. The way he pumped into me, grazing my clit with each thrust, holding me up without even looking strained — it was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
“God, Nick,” I moaned, my nails digging into his shoulders. “That’s… you’re...”
My eyelids fluttered as he thrust into me again.
“I’m what, Cerys?” he asked, his voice rough as he drove deeper. “Tell me.”
“Exquisite. Perfect,” I breathed, my eyes flickering shut.
He might have ruined me for sex with anyone else after this. My vibrators might not be enough. And the strangest part? I wasn’t even upset about it.
His fingers dug into my hips, holding me steady as he drove into me, his gaze locked onto mine, intense and unyielding. I clung to him, my nails raking down his back, marking him as he marked me. Each thrust muddied my thoughts, making me forget momentarily why something that felt so incredible could be a bad idea.
The steam from the shower enveloped us, creating a cocoon of heat and sensation that blocked out the rest of the world.
Right now, all I cared about was the way his cock owned me and the pressure building deep within me, begging for release.
Nick’s mouth found mine again, his kiss hungry and demanding. Our tongues clashed as I matched him with my own demands. I could almost taste his hunger. I met each of his thrusts with a roll of my hips, taking him deeper, urging him on.
“Fuck, Cerys,” Nick groaned, tearing his mouth from mine to bury his face in my neck. His breath was hot and ragged, his voice a low growl. “You’re so fucking tight, strangling my cock like a good girl.”
A shiver ran through me at his words, my pussy clenching around him. Nick grunted in response, his voice rough with pleasure. “That’s it, squeeze me just like that, babe.”
I could only respond with a moan, my body too consumed with sensation to form coherent words. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he ravaged my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. Each thrust of his hips sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, building and building until I was a writhing, gasping mess.
“Nick,” I breathed, my voice hitching as he hit a spot deep inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids. His name was a plea, a prayer, and a curse all rolled into one. I was so close, teetering on the edge of something monumental, something that threatened to shatter me into a million pieces and force me to see him in a new light.
He adjusted his angle, hitting that spot again and again, driving me closer to the edge with each thrust.
“Come on,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. “Let go. Come for me.”
His hand snaked between us, his fingers finding my clit and circling it. The combination of his cock filling me and his fingers working their magic was more than I could handle. I was a live wire, sparking and crackling, ready to explode.
“I... I can’t...” I gasped, my body tensing as I teetered on the brink.
“Yes, you can. Let go, Cerys. I’ve got you.”
Why would I trust him now, when he had a track record of letting me down when I needed him most?
Yet, my body betrayed my doubts, responding to his touch. His fingers moved faster, applying just the right pressure, sending me spiralling out of control. I cried out, my pussy convulsing around him, my vision blurring with the force of my climax. Nick followed me over the edge, his body stiffening as he found his own release. He groaned my name, his face buried in my neck, his arms holding me tight.
“You might not like me,” he murmured. “But your body sure as hell does.”
I hummed in response. Incapable of thinking straight or stringing together a sensible reply that wouldn’t come back to bite me.
I let my head fall back against the tile, savouring how my body still hummed from... well, that. Every nerve tingled, aftershocks rippling through me.
My mind was a disaster zone, however. Half of it wanted to put my leftover cheese wax to work building a replica of his cock. Just for, you know, scientific purposes. The other half was plagued with more feelings than it knew how to handle. The walls I’d built over the years were crumbling faster than a poorly aged Caerphilly, and I didn’t stand a chance.
How could being with him feel so right and so utterly wrong at the same time? The anger I’d clung to like a lifeline was slipping away, my resentment melting.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shove down the emotional tidal wave threatening to drown me. Flashes of the past flickered behind my eyelids — Nick standing up to that bully in Year 10, even though he was a gangly beanpole back then. Spending a whole Saturday helping me fix Dad’s old tractor, just to dodge Mam’s nagging. We had our own language — eye rolls and snarky comments that said more than any heart-to-heart ever could. Now it felt as distant as that elusive family cheese recipe I still couldn’t crack.
Then Gareth died, and everything shattered. The gut-wrenching emptiness swallowed me whole. I’d been angry at him for leaving me. For not being there to hold me when the world fell apart. For not sharing in the grief that had consumed me. I’d blamed him for everything — ditching Gareth’s memory, chasing his rock star life while we were stuck here.
Now the truth slammed into me.
It had never been about Gareth.
He’d left me.
All of these years, I’d been nursing the pain of my best friend — the man I thought I could always rely on — abandoning me, too. And admitting that felt like ripping open an old wound.