Chapter 25 Vanilla Is Not My Favorite Flavor （Nate）
VANILLA IS NOT MY FAVORITE FLAVOR (NATE)
The plane’s wheels kiss down at Teterboro a bit before midnight, the lights of Manhattan flickering across the river. Within minutes, the cabin doors open and the team files down the stairs into the chill December air.
Equipment staff are unloading gear into the belly of the waiting team bus.
A few guys drag their carry-ons, shoulders slumped from the trip, voices low as they trade half-hearted jokes.
We are all dead on our feet and eager to get home as quickly as possible.
Thankfully, there’re no crowds here and no regular airport chaos.
Eden falls in beside me, carry-on slung over her shoulder, head down as she angles toward the exit. Coach Novak spots her as he’s herding guys toward the bus.
“You got a ride, Eden?” he asks, distracted but checking the box.
“I’ll grab a cab,” she says quickly.
Coach nods, but this time he pauses long enough to add, “It’s been good having you on this trip, Carver. Keeping Russo on top of his game.” His tone is gruff but genuine. “Thanks for being this flexible so close to the holidays.”
Eden gives him a quick, polite smile. “Glad to know it was helpful, Coach. Anytime.”
Rowan swings her bag over her shoulder as she heads past us. “Night, Eden. Stop by when you’re at the complex next time?”
“I will,” Eden promises, squeezing her arm. “Thanks for the company.”
Rowan winks before jogging up the steps of the bus.
Finn is one of the last to board. He slows, long enough to let his gaze flick between Eden and me. His mouth curves in a knowing grin. Bastard. I arch one brow in warning. He salutes me mockingly, then climbs the steps.
Coach lingers, glancing back at me. “You’re not heading to Tarrytown with us?”
“Not tonight,” I say evenly. “Gotta see my folks in Brooklyn. It’s my mom’s birthday. I’ll be back in time for practice.”
Coach studies me for a second, then shrugs. “Alright. Watch your macros, yeah?” He waves me off and follows the others aboard.
The door hisses shut, and the bus rumbles away, taillights glowing red against the dark Jersey tarmac.
Eden’s brows pinch. “It’s Janice’s birthday? I thought it was in July.”
“Half-birthday,” I say smoothly, my arm snug around her waist as I thumb my phone with the other hand, booking a ride. Then I catch her bag, balance it on top of my roll-on, and keep her pulled tight against me. “Let’s get going.”
“Oh…okay.” She sounds confused, then glances up at me as I guide her toward the exit, my hand firm at her waist. “Is that…a Creole thing? Or an Italian thing?”
“Nah,” I say, nothing more.
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head, but doesn’t pull away as I steer her toward the car line.
The Uber idles at the curb, headlights cutting across the tarmac.
I drop our bags in the trunk, then guide Eden inside first with a hand at the small of her back, keeping her close enough she can’t slip away even if she tried.
The ride hums quiet, city lights flashing through the windows. She tucks under my arm automatically, head on my shoulder, already half asleep. My hand stays heavy on her waist, thumb tracing idle patterns against her ribs.
“Thanks for dropping me off,” she murmurs, yawning. “Are these trips always this intense?”
“Yes.”
She falls silent again, content to let the hum of the highway fill the space. For me, it’s the best kind of quiet, her warm weight pressing against me, mine to hold.
When the car doesn’t veer right toward the Lincoln Tunnel, her head lifts, frown creasing her forehead. “That’s not the way to the city.”
“It’s not.” Nothing more.
The silence stretches, thick and charged now.
I tighten my hold, palm sliding higher, my thumb pressing lightly over the flutter of her pulse.
She stiffens, then eases, her breath snagging in her chest. When I let the pressure linger, her thighs shift together, the smallest sound slipping past her lips before she bites it back.
“Nate,” she whispers, low, afraid the driver might overhear. “I should go home—”
“Not tonight.” I finally turn to her. My fingers tighten once at her throat. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. She leans into it, eyes gone dark, chest rising quick.
My voice drops, final. “You’re coming home with me.”
She parts her lips, about to protest, but when I press against her pulse again, the words die in her throat. Instead, she shifts closer, thighs squeezing together before she finally lets herself melt into me.
I stroke my thumb once more over the flutter of her pulse, watching her swallow hard, then ease. Her breath comes shallow now, quick little pulls, as if deciding whether she’s nervous or turned on.
“Good girl,” I murmur, brushing a kiss against her temple. She exhales shakily, a sound that’s almost a whimper, and slides her hand against my chest.
The rest of the ride hums with silence, but it’s charged—her body pliant under my arm, her cheek pressed into my shoulder, thighs shifting every time my thumb ghosts over her neck. She doesn’t say another word. She doesn’t have to.
Forty minutes later the car rolls to a stop in front of my house, headlights sweeping across clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows.
I slide out first, pull our bags free, then circle around and open her door before she can touch the handle.
My hand finds her waist again, guiding her up the short walk, exactly where I want her.
Inside, the house is dark except for the glow from the kitchen. She glances around, remembering it—the sharp order of the space. I steer her straight to my office, drop into the chair, and pull her onto my lap.
“Nate—” she starts, confused, but I’m already logging in, fingers flying over the keyboard.
The Defenders’ health portal flashes on the screen. My latest panel comes up, line after line of numbers, all clean. I tip the monitor toward her.
“Okay?” I murmur at her throat, teeth grazing her earlobe.
She scans the screen, then nods. “Okay.” Her voice wavers, then drops lower. “I don’t have anything recent to show you. My last physical was over a year ago.”
“You told me it was only one guy.”
“Yes.”
“When were you with him the last time?”
“Two years ago, give or take.”
“I’m not even gonna pretend this doesn’t appeal to my inner caveman.” I chuckle.” I don’t need to see anything, baby.” My hand drags higher up her thigh. She exhales shakily, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders as I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze.
My palm presses between her thighs, parting her legs wider, shifting her down against the hard line of me. I stroke her slow through the denim, a tease that has her breath stuttering.
“Fucking perfect,” I growl, letting my teeth scrape the tender skin of her neck.
Before she can gasp another word, I hook an arm around her waist, haul her up and throw her over my shoulder. She squirms once, a halfhearted protest swallowed by a helpless sound that only makes me harder.
“Quiet,” I order, my palm cracking lightly against the back of her thigh. “You’re done deciding tonight.”
I carry her upstairs in long, deliberate strides, every step pounding with purpose, her body draped over me. Straight into my bedroom.
I slam the door shut behind us and toss her onto the bed. She lands with a startled gasp, bouncing once before I’m on her, my weight pinning her down.
“Don’t move.” The words grind out of me, dark and final, as I peel her jeans and underwear down in one rough drag.
Her chest heaves, eyes blown wide, but she doesn’t fight me. Her thighs shift instead, rubbing together.
“Spread.”
She hesitates only a second before her legs part, slow and shaky, obedience written all over her.
“Good girl,” I rumble in approval, and the sound rips a gasp from her throat. My hand slides between her thighs, fingers sinking into her slick heat, and my laugh comes low, dirty. “So fucking wet for me. You love it, don’t you, being told what to do?”
Her hips are jerking helplessly into my hand.
“Answer me.” The demand cuts sharp.
“Yes,” she gasps.
“Yes what?” I bite at her throat, circling her clit harder.
“I love it.” Her voice breaks, but her eyes stay locked on mine, wide and wrecked. “You telling me what to do.”
“Perfect answer, baby,” I hiss, pushing a finger deep inside her, claiming her roughly. “I’m going to fuck you so good.”
Her chest rises in shallow pulls, lips parted, pupils blown. She’s trembling, thighs shifting, unsure whether to close them or spread wider.
“Arms up.” My tone brooks no argument. She obeys, and I rip her top over her head. When her hands twitch like she wants to grab me, I growl against her ear.
“Did I say you could put them down?”
She lifts her arms back up instantly, and I pin her wrists hard above her head with one hand. With the other, I tear my belt open, shove my pants low, and drag the thick length of me against her slick opening, smearing myself in her arousal.
She moans, tries to grind up to take me, and I slam her back into the mattress, pinning her harder.
“Not until I say so.”
I slide along her wetness, my weight heavy over her, whispering against her ear.
“God, you feel perfect under me. Soft. So fucking pretty.” My cock glides against her folds, teasing her clit until she writhes, desperate for more.
“I should stretch you with my fingers first,” I murmur, sliding two inside her to make her gasp, curling just enough to make her cry out.
Then I pull them free, coat myself with her juices, and line up.
“But I think you’re too eager to wait, aren’t you? ”
She nods, chest rising fast, eyes locked on mine as she lies back, open, ready, breath coming hard.
I brush a slow kiss across her lower lip. “A fucking dream.”
The blunt head of my cock stretches her tight entrance. Heat tears through me as I sink a few inches inside, her body gripping me like a vice.
“Breathe, Eden,” I order, my voice rough. “Relax, baby.”
She nods frantically, taking shallow breaths as I ease deeper. “Alright?” I ask, pulling back a little, thrusting back in, claiming more of her with every push.
“Yes—” she gasps, then moans brokenly, her body clamping around me.
“That’s right, you’ll take everything I give you.”
Small thrusts wreck us both, her pussy fluttering around me.
“Nate, I think…I think…”
I feel her contracting, her whole body seizing as an orgasm rips through her. I freeze, swearing under my breath, fighting not to shoot my load.
“Oh, baby…I’m not even a few inches in.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, her body trembling as I push deeper, giving her more.
“Nate,” she exhales, desperate. “This is…so good. I’ve never… This is…”
“I know, baby.” I lean down to kiss her, slow, tender, grounding her as I keep pressing inside. “You feel amazing. So tight. Deep breaths, Eden. Let me in all the way.”
I’m not fully buried yet, but I start moving, each thrust stretching her more, pulling moans out of her throat. She squirms against my grip, trying to free her hands, but I pin her harder.
Her walls convulse around me again, another orgasm building, and I lower my mouth to kiss the tear sliding down her cheek. “That’s right. Let go for me. I wanna feel my girl squeeze my cock.”
She shatters around me again, her pussy contracting in powerful, long pulses, and I thrust through it with deep, long strokes. When her orgasm subsides, I finally release her wrists. Her arms wrap tight around my shoulders as I slide my hand to her throat, pressing lightly, testing her.
“A little more, baby. Take a little more.”
Her legs tremble, locking around my waist as I bottom out at last, buried to the hilt.
“I knew you could do it,” I purr into her ear, hips driving deep. “You just don’t like vanilla, do you? You need a bit of spice to go with it.”
Her answering cry shatters, her body convulsing around me once more, dragging me over the edge this time. I drive harder, relentless, until I come with her, the orgasm ripping through me, her body gripping me tight, holding me there, exactly where I belong.
Her muscles go limp beneath me, spent, trembling, arms still wrapped tight around my shoulders. I press slow kisses to her temple, her cheek, her mouth, murmuring against her lips.
“Perfect girl,” I whisper, brushing damp strands of hair off her face. “Came all over me…”
She groans, hiding her face in my chest, and I chuckle low, teasing. “Don’t hide from me now, Trouble. You come for me whenever I tell you to. I’ll always take care of my girl.”
Her eyes flick up at mine, soft and raw, and I kiss her again, gentler this time, slow enough to let her breathe.
When her legs finally loosen from around me, I scoop her up, her gasp muffled against my neck as I carry her straight into the bathroom.
I set her on the counter, turn on the shower, and strip the rest of our clothes away.
Steam rises as I step in with her, holding her under the spray, washing every inch of her with careful hands.
She’s pliant, eyes fluttering shut as I soap her skin, rinse her hair, press kisses to her shoulders in between. By the time I carry her back out, she’s half-asleep against me, wrapped in a towel.
In the bedroom, I pull one of my T-shirts over her head. It hangs loose on her, swallowing her curves, and she gives me a faint smile as she tugs at the hem. I kiss the top of her damp hair.
“Stay put.”
I pad downstairs, scrolling delivery on my phone.
The fridge is bare—five days on the road will do that—but it doesn’t matter.
I order braised salmon and blitz a quick protein shake: chocolate whey, a splash of decaf cold brew, frozen banana, one spoon of peanut butter, ice.
Thirty seconds, and it pours thick and cold—enough to hold us till the knock at the door.
By the time I come back up, she’s curled in the middle of my bed, already asleep in my shirt. She looks wrecked, and absolutely perfect. For a moment I just stand there, taking it in—the quiet, the calm, the fact that she’s in my bed.
I slide in beside her and tug her under my arm, her soft breaths filling the room, steady and sure.
The world feels exactly right.