Chapter 33
Skylar
I’m still looking into his eyes when I shatter.
The orgasm sweeps through me, carries me to a place far away, and my entire body seems to catch fire.
The vibrations seize me, and moisture bathes my core.
My thighs tremble, and I clutch at the only thing solid in this world—him.
He continues to fuck me, putting his entire self behind it.
Nathan fucks like he lives his life. With one-hundred percent intensity.
He gives all of himself, and it’s as if he’s consuming me.
As if he’s infusing his very soul into me, and with a groan, he empties himself inside of me.
He holds my gaze for a few seconds more.
Long enough for me to see the pain-pleasure of his climax in his eyes.
Then he presses his head into the side of my neck, and for a few seconds, rests the weight of his body on mine. His heart thunders against mine.
The heat from him envelops me in a cauldron of future dreams. A life together.
Getting up with him by my side. Opening my heart to him.
Falling asleep to him throbbing inside me.
Hearing his words, seeing him smile, taking in that freakin’ sexy smirk of his, trailing my fingers over the veins on his arm, seeing the tendons on his neck pop when he’s angry, his smooth gait which reminds me of a predator, his heart, which is as squishy as that of a teddy bear—I want all of this and more.
I want a future with him. I didn’t realize how much until this moment, when every inch of my body is covered with his.
Looking into his eyes while making love is the most intimate experience of my life.
Nothing can top this. Nothing can make me feel this treasured, this wanted, this sexy, this desirable.
This everything. The rush of emotions brings tears to my eyes.
I swallow them away, but that slight movement makes him lift his face and search my features.
"You okay?"
I shake my head.
He frowns. "Did I—"
"Hurt me? Yes, but in a good way."
He frowns, then pulls out of me. I wince. His frown deepens. He sits back on his heels, and when he glances down, I follow his gaze to where blood streaks the condom.
"Oh." I blink. I didn’t think I would bleed. It didn’t hurt that much.
I glance up to find his jaw tic. His face is set in a harsh line. He shoves off the bed and puts distance between us.
I frown. "Nate, are you okay?"
He runs his fingers through his hair, a tortured expression on his face.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t gentler with you, Starling.
” He stares at my pussy, and I should be embarrassed, but really, I’m too preoccupied by the emotions flitting across his face.
I’ve never seen him this disturbed. This…
Slightly horrified. I once thought the man was unfeeling, but watching his reaction, I could laugh at how wrong I was.
“I thought I could contain myself. When I’ve already waited so long to be inside of you, I should have been able to wait another few minutes, but the feel of your melting pussy milking my cock was more than I could bear. Suddenly, all I could think of was fucking you—"
"I wanted you to fuck me.”
His jaw hardens. “—and taking my pleasure from your body.”
“I got a lot of pleasure from it, too,” I counter. “I came... hard, and only you could wring that kind of reaction from my body.”
He goes on as if he doesn’t hear me. “I wanted to be gentler with you. Instead, I couldn’t stop from putting my needs first. This is what happens when—” he firms his lips.
“When?” I scowl. Why is he so upset? It was good—better than good.
That was a move-the-earth-kind of orgasm he gave me.
I mean, I’m the virgin here. Or rather, was a virgin.
If anything, I should be emotionally upset about what happened, but I feel good.
Better than good. I feel like I belong here in his bed, with his big, fat cock bringing me to climax over and over again.
Instead, he’s the one who’s so pissed off with himself.
If I didn’t know him better, I’d say… Naaaah… I freeze. It’s not possible. Is it?
“Nathan?” I rise up to my feet, my skirt still bunched around my waist. That’s what happens when you wear something slim fitting, with hips and thighs that form a natural resting place for the fabric.
You have to tug on the fabric to smooth it down, but before I can do that, a drop of something— Blood?
His cum? Mine? A mix of all three runs down my inner thigh.
His gaze latches onto that and, when I come to a stop in front of him, he reaches out, scoops up the moisture, brings it to his mouth and sucks on it.
It should gross me out, but instead, a thousand little fireflies seem to light up in my blood stream. “Nate, look at me,” I whisper.
Something in my voice—or maybe it’s the emotions vibrating off of me, which communicate themselves to him—makes his chin jerk up.
His gaze locks with mine, and it’s like a physical blow to my chest. I’ll never not be impacted by this man’s gaze.
“Nate”—I swallow— “when... when was the last time you had sex?”
He glares at me. The hair on my forearms rises, and that giddy feeling in my belly is back, but I manage to ignore it. I rise up on tiptoes and cup his cheek. He flinches but doesn’t move away.
“Tell me, baby, when was the last time you fucked—”
“—a few days before your eighteenth birthday,” he bites out.
I blink.
“A... A few days before my eighteenth birthday?” I can’t have heard that right. “So, you haven’t had sex for more than five years?”
“Not that I haven’t wanted to.” He laughs in a self-deprecating manner.
“Trust me, I tried. But I couldn’t even bring a woman home, not when the only one I wanted in my bed was you.
I tried fucking them at their place, but it felt all wrong.
I couldn’t bring myself to touch them, let alone, have sex with them.
I tried beating off to porn; didn’t work.
Not until I imagined it was your pussy I was inside, that it was you I was bending over and taking from behind, that it was your arse I was taking, your nipples I was squeezing, your breasts I was weighing in my hands.
And then… I finally find a way to get you in my bed, and what do I do? ”
“You make love to me.”
“I shagged you—”
“You showed me how good it could be. I couldn’t have chosen a better man to lose my virginity to. I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing experience on my wedding night.”
He flinches again.
“And for the record, I found it even more pleasurable when you asked me to run and chased me. It heightened the entire experience—"
His gaze grows stark.
“—uh… thought I should let you know.”
A vein pops at his temple.
“Just in case you were wondering...” My voice peters out.
The muscle working at his jaw tells me that was not the right thing to say. Huh? Before I can ask, he pivots and stalks off in the direction of the ensuite.
“Nate? Nathan?” I call out, but he doesn’t stop.
Or maybe, he didn’t hear me? Is his hearing problem exacerbated only when there’s noise?
Or does he always need to compensate for his hearing loss with lip reading?
There are so many questions I have for him.
So much I don’t know about my new husband.
The one thing I have learned about him is that he wants me to fight him when it comes to sex. He wants me to protest that I don’t want him. When I struggle, it excites him. When I run, and he gets to chase me before he fucks me, it turns him on even more.
I hear the sound of water running, then he returns from the bathroom with a wet cloth.
And he’s wearing a pair of grey sweats. His cock is outlined through the fabric at the crotch, and my mouth waters.
It’s not fair the man fills out a pair of sweatpants even better than he looks in a pair of tailor-made formal pants.
His hair is mussed-up, and with his bare chest, and the makings of a five o’clock shadow, he looks deliciously rumpled.
"It’s called Primal Play." He leans in and presses the cloth to the flesh between my legs.
It’s my turn to flinch… Not because it hurts, but because it’s cold. The slight burning sensation subsides. He looks at the cloth and his features harden more, if that’s possible.
"So that’s your kink?" I survey his scowling face.
He takes a few steps toward the bathroom and tosses the cloth into the sink. "To me, it’s as natural as doing it in the missionary position is for other people. I’m turned on when my woman struggles against my hold and uses the tools she’s born with: nails, hair, teeth, and skin—
"You want me to fight you?”
He lowers his chin to his chest. "I want you to act on instinct. I want you to get in touch with your base self and express yourself freely."
"You’re a primal Dom," I try out the word in my mouth, and a buzzing sensation shivers up my spine. There’s something powerful about that word. Dom. Dominant. Husband.
"And you’re my prey.” He holds out his hand.
My pussy squeezes in on itself. My toes curl.
I should not find that arousing. He’s saying he’s going to hunt me and…
My scalp prickles, pins and needles dot the soles of my feet, and when he holds out his hand, given the glower he’s sporting, I decide not to ask any more questions.
Not when I know I’ll love the answers he gives me, and then hate myself for loving them.
I’ve discovered enough of that darker side inside of me for today. I place my palm in his.