Chapter 6 #2
His fingers stroke the inside of my thigh, slowly teasing, until I’m trembling so badly I can barely breathe.
I turn my head and then go still. It takes Nick a minute to notice. Eyes unfocused, he follows the direction of my gaze. I look away, flushing, trying to mimic nonchalance, but I’m too late. He sees what I was looking at.
The baby monitor on my nightstand.
Anxiety kicks in my chest. What if Braxton wakes up? What if he needs me, but I don’t hear because I’m down the hall, lost in the glory that is Nick’s naked body?
Before I can debate what to do, Nick speaks.
“We better turn it on,” he says, staring fixedly at the monitor.
“Are you sure?” I hesitate, worried I’ve ruined the moment but also wanting to check in on Braxton. “It makes a sound, like static. It’s kinda loud.”
“Don’t want him to walk in on us,” Nick says. He looks up and down my body, greedy, possessive. “Don’t want anyone to see how I’m about to wreck you. You’re for my eyes only.”
A wave of relief rushes over me, glad he won’t make me choose between him and my son, followed by a full-body shiver of anticipation as the last part of his sentence fully registers.
Still, I blush as I lean over to switch on the monitor.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I know it’s not very sexy.
” A click and the screen lights with a dim glow.
There’s Braxton, eerily tinged green by the camera’s night-vision mode.
He’s asleep on his side, with his knees tucked up and the blankets tangled at his feet.
Nick bends over me, presses his cheek to mine, and looks at the screen. “Adorable,” he declares.
I blush harder, secretly pleased.
We both move back onto the bed.
“Amber.” His hand is on my chin, tilting my eyes up to meet his, which are calm, serious.
“Listen. I need you to hear something before we go any further.” He pauses to make sure I’m paying attention.
“I like that you’re a mom; actually, I love that you’re a good mom.
” He settles between my legs, grinding into me so I can feel every inch of his hardness.
I whimper as he says, “If anything, it makes you even hotter.”
His mouth claims mine as he rocks into me again.
My eyes practically roll in my head. I reach down and grasp him through the thin cotton fabric, squeezing tight.
“I can’t take it,” he breathes out, with his eyes closed. “I need to feel you.”
He shuffles to the side and slips off his briefs.
His length springs free. It’s thick, heavy, perfectly curved. I inhale, my eyes widening at the sight of it. Nick flashes a smug grin at my reaction.
His hands brush over my panties, right between my legs.
A gasp, followed by a satisfied hum when he feels how soaked I am.
“Wet for me, aren’t you?” My underwear comes off with one sharp tug, and I’m bare.
Goosebumps ripple across my skin from cool air on naked flesh, but then Nick is back between my legs, smothering me with his warmth.
Tenderly, he brushes my hair away from my face. “Tell me how you like it.” He murmurs, “What you want.”
I go frozen, shocked. No one’s ever asked me that before. Not the handful of men I’ve been with. Definitely not my ex.
My eyes drop as words lodge in my throat.
“Vixen.” His voice is low and loaded with warning. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
My gaze flicks up to his. I wet my lips, nerves trembling because I want to admit something I’ve never told anyone before. Something I worry he’ll find shameful. His eyes are locked on me, urging me on with quiet scrutiny.
“I—I, um,” I gulp, gather my courage, and say in my smallest voice, “I like it kinda rough.”
His reaction is immediate. Nick practically collapses against me. “Could you be any more perfect?” he whispers hoarsely.
I duck my head, my cheeks burning. “You like that too?” I ask shyly.
“Fuck yes, I do,” he says, voice low and sure. “Outside this room, I will spoil you. I will take care of you. I will treat you like the queen you are.”
His cheeks flush, just slightly, before he leans closer, mouth brushing my cheek as he confesses, “But in here, I want you to be my whore. Mine to use.” His hand slides down my ribs, gripping my hip possessively. “Mine to cherish.”
The way he says cherish, like it’s filth and devotion all at once, shatters every doubt in me.
His words spark electricity that flows through my bloodstream.
It’s like he looked into my soul and saw exactly what I secretly wanted.
“God, yes,” I tell him, then let my body do the rest of the talking by kissing him, arching into him, running my nails lightly down his back. Claiming him as much as he claims me.
His mouth moves to my neck, which he licks and bites until I’m squirming under him. Nick reaches between us and uses his thumb to circle my clit over and over until my legs quiver. My breath hitches, my fingers curling in the sheets. He pulls his hand away entirely, leaving me throbbing.
He settles closer between my legs. I strain toward him, but he holds himself just out of reach. Close enough for his cock to stimulate me but not enter me yet. I whimper, moan his name, desperate.
Nick inhales sharply. “Christ. You’re killing me.”
He shifts, and his thick cock, hot, heavy, slides along my slit. Just once. Slow enough to make my eyes roll back. My thighs tremble.
“Nick…,” I gasp.
“Shhh,” he soothes, guiding himself through my slick, tormenting me with the promise of entry.
“Oh, yes,” I moan, already high off him, and we haven’t even had sex yet. “Do it.”
“Uh-uh,” he chastises with a smirk. “Not yet, greedy girl. Do you have a condom?”
I gesture with my chin toward my nightstand. He slides out the drawer and grunts with satisfaction when he sees the box of condoms. It only takes a minute for him to get one out and roll it on while I watch, holding my breath.
Once that’s done, he’s back, cock notched to my entrance but not breeching it. Not yet. “You’re going to have to ask for it,” he tells me with a lingering kiss that steals all my air. He pulls back, looks down at me, and commands, “Beg.”
Normal me would tell him to screw off.
Hot and bothered me complies instantly.
“Please,” I whine, tilting my pelvis up. “Please, Nick. Fuck me now.”
A dark chuckle. “That’s my good girl.” He slams into me with one claiming forward jerk of his hips, and I scream in pleasure, so loud he clamps a hand over my mouth to silence me.
“Shhh,” he whispers, thrusting so hard that tears spring to my eyes. “Don’t wake your son.” He removes his hand, slides it down my throat, and gently squeezes with his eyes fixed on my face.
“Is this okay?” he asks, tightening his grip just a little. I nod, whimper, and moan, garbled noises and snippets of exaltation falling from my lips as he keeps his pace relentless. He’s so big, stretching me so well, that I’m out of my mind. Not even aware of what I’m saying.
Already, an orgasm brews deep in my core.
Like he’s reading my mind, Nick says, “I’m going to make you fall apart piece by piece, but not yet.
” The hand around my throat tightens, borderline painful.
“You don’t come until I say so.” He loosens his hand, and I suck in a lungful of air.
“It’ll be better delayed,” he murmurs, like it’s a secret meant only for me. “Trust me.”
The thing is that I do.
Trust him.
“Don’t hold back,” I whisper, breathless. “I can take it.”
Something primal flashes in his eyes.
The pace turns frantic, messy, hungry, his hips slamming into mine, his breath hot and uneven, his fingers locked hard around my thighs like he never wants me to pull away.
Every thrust sends a shockwave of pleasure through me, building fast, sharp, tension coiling tighter as an orgasm builds, but before it can fully blossom…
Nick pulls out.
Completely.
“No,” I whine, pouting, empty in a way that almost hurts.
He drops a kiss on my lips, peeks at the baby monitor where Braxton still sleeps, then slips out of bed and dashes from the room.
“What the—” I prop myself on my elbows and stare at the empty doorway, bewildered.
My confusion lasts only seconds.
He returns with a long, thick, red ribbon wrapped around his fist and a slow, wicked grin that tells me exactly what he plans to do with it.
“Nick?” I ask, eyeing the ribbon warily. I recognize it from the pile of discarded wrapping paper I’d meant to throw away.
He climbs back onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His voice is a low, commanding rumble. “Hands above your head.”
Adrenaline mixes with desire. I’ve never been tied up before. My heart thumps like a trapped bird as I lift my arms slowly, crossing my wrists above my head.
In one smooth, confident motion, Nick binds my wrists with the ribbon. The satin is cool on my skin, his fingers warm and rough as he loops and knots it. He threads it through the wooden slats of the headboard and pulls the slack tight.
I gasp at the sensation, secure but not painful, held but not trapped.
He tests the knot gently, just a tug, then looks down at me. His brow knits with concern even as lust burns beneath it.
“Is it okay?” he asks, his voice low, sincere. “Too tight?”
I shake my head, unable to force out a single word. If I could, I’d tell him this is better than okay. That this is a fantasy I’ve kept buried for years, one I was always too ashamed, too scared, too conditioned to be “good” to voice out loud.
I’d tell him he’s not just touching my body, he’s unlocking something dark and hungry inside me. Something I’ve kept caged so long it’s half-dead, starved, barely able to move. A secret part of me that wants to claw its way out, to be wild, reckless, unfiltered for once in my life.
But my throat is too tight, my breath too shaky, my body too overwhelmed with want.
And gratitude.
Yes, gratitude, sharp and startling.
Because Nick sees me. All of me.
Not just the sweet parts or the polite parts or the mother parts.