29. Zinnia #2
His tongue plunders my mouth hungrily, like a starving man who knows this is his last meal.
His hands yank at my robe, freeing the tie, and he buries his face in my chest, hands rough as they move over my breasts, my waist, my back.
He’s already as hard as granite between my thighs, and he grinds it against me, gripping my hips.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “I need you, honey.”
Heat rushes through me at his words. I thought he was shutting down again, but it’s the opposite. He wants me right in the spot he once refused me, and it makes me want him more than ever. In ways I haven’t had him yet.
“I need you too,” I purr, rocking against his erection. “I need to taste you.”
He looks at me from under heavy lids as I climb off his lap and kneel between his thighs. Heat pools low in my belly when he unbuckles his belt, freeing his stiff length from his jeans. He strokes it once, eyes burning into mine, then slowly cups my cheek, guiding me closer.
I take his cock in my hand, hot and hard and perfect, admiring the part of him that’s brought me so much pleasure.
It’s so fucking gorgeous, thick and snaked with veins, reddish-purple with need.
My mouth waters at the sight, and I lick across his slit, where he’s beading precum.
His breath hisses out as I swirl my tongue around the head, savoring his salty taste.
He’s still wearing his glasses, shirt still buttoned, and it’s sexy as hell, his top half all composed, his bottom half giving in to what he needs.
I expect him to close his eyes, to look away as I draw him into my mouth, but he keeps his smoldering gaze on mine.
A grin tugs at my lips, and not because they’re wrapped about his beautiful cock, but because of who he’s becoming.
Two weeks ago he turned away in embarrassment when I wanted him to see how turned on he was, and now he’s watching me suck him like his life depends on it.
That’s how much he’s grown. My chest could burst with the pride I feel for this man, with all the things I feel for him.
Things I can’t even begin to acknowledge.
I grip him tight, hollowing my cheeks to create suction, and he groans, head falling back as his hips lift to drive himself deeper into my mouth. Heat streaks through me, and I squeeze my thighs together, squirming on the floor as he hits the back of my throat.
“Zinnia,” he chokes out. “Stop.”
I pop off him with a sly smile. “Everything okay?”
He shakes his head, eyes black, and tugs me to my feet.
My gaze falls to his cock, glistening with my spit, so hard it’s straining toward me.
I know what he wants, and he’s not the only one.
I’m so wet from sucking him, more than ready to ride him, and I waste no time kicking off my underwear to climb into his lap.
His hands shake as they stroke my hair, as he finally sinks inside me.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “You feel so good, honey.”
I clench my pelvic floor muscles in response, and he moans. Nick always tells me I feel good during sex, but I sense he wants to say more and doesn’t know how. As I think about how much he’s grown over the past two weeks, I decide to try something.
“What part of me?” I ask, peppering kisses along his jaw, and he gives me a dirty smile.
“You know.”
I tighten my pelvic floor muscles again. “Say it, Nick. What part of me feels so good?”
He hesitates, and I slow my movements, staring at him pointedly. A blush stains his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away.
“Your pussy,” he says at last. “Your pussy feels so damn good.”
Heat flashes through me. Hearing those dirty words from Nick is hotter than I could have imagined. His dick flexes inside me, as if he realizes it too.
“Does that turn you on?” I purr, rocking on his lap. “Calling it my pussy?”
His fingers tighten on my hips. “Fuck yes.”
I bite back my grin. I knew he’d like it.
“Say it again,” I breathe. “Say more dirty things.”
His mouth opens, then closes, like he’s not sure what to say, and I decide to take the lead.
“What if I told you how much I love your cock?”
I feel him throb inside me again, his eyes becoming hooded.
“How good it feels to have your cock buried in my pussy?”
“Fuck, Zinnia,” he growls.
I kiss him hard, riding him faster. “I love how deep you fuck me,” I say against his lips, and his fingers dig into my flesh.
“You like my cock deep?”
“I need your cock deep.” My hands tunnel into his hair and tug. “I’d take your cock in every part of me.”
He stills, his eyes moving over my face uncertainly. “Not every part…”
“Yes, Nick.” I meet his gaze head-on, ensuring my meaning is crystal clear. “Every part.”
A harsh breath bursts from him, his cock pulsing inside me.
He rolls us on the sofa, pinning my arms above my head as he moves over me.
His eyes flash with a wildness I’ve never seen, his thrusts growing urgent, desperate.
I wrap my legs around him and watch him let go, heat blazing through me as he fucks me with abandon, knowing he’s thinking about what it would be like to fuck me in the most forbidden of places.
The pleasure peaks, crashing through me hard, and I cry out.
Nick’s right there with me, his hips stuttering as he buries his face in my shoulder, muffling his moan against my skin.
Then he’s kissing my neck, my ear, my jaw, gathering me against his chest. He rolls us onto our sides, his arms banding tight around me, as if he’s afraid of what will happen if he lets go.
I sigh, nuzzling my nose into the hollow of his throat, breathing in the scent of him.
I love his cock—his entire body is perfection—but this is my favorite part, right here.
Close enough to hear his heartbeat, close enough to feel his breath.
A fine dusting of hair, warm and perfect.
As he strokes my hair, I realize how familiar he’s become since I arrived in the city. Familiar in a way I’ve never known.
I wait for that old itch to stir, the restlessness nudging me to pack and leave like I always do, but it doesn’t come. And as I lie in Nick’s arms, high from the afterglow of sex, I let myself consider it.
Seriously consider it.
What if I stayed? What would that mean?
Gran comes to mind. She’d be thrilled if I stuck around, and even if she won’t admit it, she could use someone to keep an eye on her. To make sure she’s safe and well, and be there if she’s not. With Violet’s baby shower coming up, Gran will need my help to host it, and I’d be sad to miss it.
I think again about the class I enrolled in on a whim. The more I read in Nick’s apartment, the more inspired I became. I’m aching to learn more about art, and that class would be a great start. It’s never a bad thing to study a little more, right?
And it sure as hell wouldn’t hurt to spend a little more time with Nick. It might be complicated with me being a student and him being a professor, but we’re both adults. Surely we could make it work.
But more than any of that, I don’t know what else I’d do if I didn’t stay in the city. I have nothing planned, and I haven’t got a clue where I’d go next. Staying here makes more sense than anything else.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I lie in Nick’s arms in the studio, as I listen to his heartbeat steadily through his warm skin.
But deep down, I’m scared to admit the truth. That I’m not ready to leave this life I’m starting to want.