Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
olivia
Nate swirled his tongue around my clit, alternating with quick little flicks and sucks.
Where did he learn to do that? And why the hell was I jealous of the girl who had him before me?
If he’d told me he was a virgin before the other night, it never would have happened.
A lot of soul-searching over the last couple of weeks helped me come to terms with that.
But now that I know it had only been me? I wanted all of his firsts.
Yeah, I knew that was selfish, especially since I wasn’t going to keep him. Even if it had become harder for me to imagine letting him go.
“Right there, Nate.” I grabbed a handful of his floppy brown locks and ground my pussy into his face. He flicked and sucked until I came all over his face. His proud expression, chin glistening, lips swollen, and that panty-melting grin, tugged at my long-dead heartstrings.
“You ready for more?” He asked, his hand reaching down to pump his cock.
“Oh, man, I knew you had it in you.” Blessings to whoever sent me this man with little to no refractory period.
He smiled wickedly. “On your hands and knees.”
I moved quickly, glancing back at him, cock in hand. If I were to design my perfect sexual fantasy, it would be this man.
“Someone asked for it to be a little rough; if it’s too much, say when.”
He waited, notched at my entrance for a response. “Fuck me, please.”
I don’t know what I was expecting; maybe I underestimated him because of his lack of experience, but when he slammed home, my body practically buckled in surprise. His hands went to my hips, helping me catch my balance.
“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna need you to talk me through what you need. I can’t fucking think straight right now. Way too fucking good.”
“Just like that—but harder.”
When he moved, it was like his body understood what mine needed. Or maybe we were just in tune? I never needed or wanted soft touches or candlelit kisses. I’ve always needed it a little harder, rougher—messier than my partners were prepared to give me.
And while I normally loved dirty talk, he fucked the words right out of my mouth. The sound of his hips slapping against mine took over every rational thought in my mind. He drove into me, and I needed to see him.
“Nate—”
“What do you need?”
I needed something I didn’t want to ask him for. I needed to see his face when he fell apart. “You.”
“Baby. You’ve got me.”
He drove into me, and I lost my balance; my chest dropped to the couch, ass still in the air. God, he was fucking perfect. He pulled out, flipped me onto my back, and drove into me, the base of his cock providing the perfect amount of friction on my clit.
And no, I didn’t need sweet words or platitudes, but I’d become obsessed with the way his eyes stared into my soul. Holy fuck. I had feelings. With that realization, my next orgasm rolled through me.
I knew he felt it the moment I pulsed around him.
His face—that beautiful face—showed everything.
He came with a roar. Or maybe that happened in my head, or it was the whoosh of my blood flowing to my brain.
I knew I would need to give him up eventually, but in that moment, I realized it would hurt like hell when the time came.
He collapsed on top of me, careful not to crush me, in no rush to pull out of me, or to break our connection. I brushed a piece of his hair off his forehead and searched his face for something.
“Fuck me.” He laughed as he said it, and it was the first time I noticed the dimple that showed up when he smiled.
“You did—”
“When you came, your pussy squeezed me like a vice grip.” And his frank description of the sex thankfully broke the spell, and I put the wall back up around my heart.
“Come shower with me?” I asked.
He nodded. “We have the entire night. You lead, I’ll follow.”