Chapter 44 Game On （Nate）
GAME ON (NATE)
The cab drops us in front of the Cherokee, and for the first time in weeks, there’s no pause. No hesitation, no what-ifs. Just her hand in mine, tugging me inside.
The apartment smells faintly of lavender and home. The second the door shuts, I press her back against it, not rough, not hurried, but firm enough to remind her of who’s in charge.
“I missed you,” I murmur against her mouth. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you for weeks.”
My kisses feather along her collarbone, each one slower than the last, a promise rather than a pursuit. Her breath stutters. I slide my hand along her cheek and into the hair at the base of her neck, tilting her head to look at me.
“No excuses left, Trouble. You’re all mine now.”
She steps back, eyes blazing, still holding my hand, pulling me toward her bedroom. Her laugh turns shaky and defiant. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“Damn right.” My thumb skims her jaw, keeping her pinned under my gaze. “Because I know what you need.”
“Oh yeah? What is that?” she teases, tugging me closer. Her legs bump the edge of the bed, and she drops onto it, biting her lip in that maddening way. I step between her knees, heat pouring off her. “Are you going to give me what I need, Russo?”
“Mm.” I crouch and ease her onto her back. Goosebumps rise where her skin meets mine. Necessary. Inevitable. We’ve been building to this for years.
I take her mouth, slow and certain, setting the pace. We have a whole night ahead.
“You’re wearing too many layers, baby.” I drag my mouth from hers and reach for the waist of her jeans, plucking at the hem of her T-shirt. She lifts her arms, a silent yes, and I peel it away, leaving her in lace. One flick, and the clasp gives; I slide the bra off and send it to the floor.
“You’re gorgeous.” My eyes roam, greedy. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed, hair mussed from my hands. I trace the blush down her throat with my tongue and feel her shiver.
“Bossy,” she whispers, breath catching.
“Only until you forget your own name.”
My palms frame her ribs; I take one nipple into my mouth, then the other, savoring her. She arches, a broken sound slipping free. Her hands grip my neck while I feast on her, and every small noise turns the screw—those little mewls, the way her hips seek friction against me.
I trail kisses down her stomach, work the button on her jeans, and strip denim and lace past her hips. She kicks them away, bare and perfect on the crisp sheets.
Two fingers slide through her heat, and that helpless sound spills from her chest again. I keep a steady rhythm, hold her right there until her hands clutch my shoulders.
“Nate,” she begs, wrecked already. “Please.”
“I’m a goner for you, baby.” I lap at her sternum, then close my mouth over her other nipple. “Tell me what you need, Trouble.”
“Please, Nate. I want you inside me. It’s been too long.”
A satisfied curl hits my mouth. “You want your boyfriend’s cock?”
“Yes. Now.”
I strip fast, fist at the base to keep control. I want to feel that first stretch with my head clear, want to fill her and feel her squeeze around me.
She watches me, teeth on her bottom lip. “Come here.” She reaches, and I lean in, then roll us so she’s astride me. “Ride me.”
“You want me to do all the work, big guy? Are you tired from the game?” She teases, planting her knees and lining me up before she sinks down slow.
“Jesus,” I grit out, every muscle strung tight. Every instinct says grab her hips and drive up hard. But I hold the line. For now. “Do what you want with me.”
She takes more, a gorgeous, steady slide until she’s seated fully, chest heaving, eyes blown. We both stop there, breathing the same small, ragged air.
“Good girl,” I rasp. My hands bracket her hips without forcing the pace. “Show me how much you missed your man.”
She starts to move—slow grind, small lift, another deeper drop—and I feel her around me, hot and tight, greedy. I meet her with just enough thrust to keep her on that edge, my voice in her ear.
“That’s it. Use me. All of me.”
Her head tips back; a raw sound ripping out as she sets a rhythm that makes the bed frame protest. She rides harder, faster, and I let her, my hands guiding without taking over, until she’s shaking and swearing and I can feel her start to climb.
“Look at me when I fuck you,” I say.
Her gaze snaps down to mine.
“I feel so full,” she moans, lifting and lowering herself. I let her maintain the lead but am grunting at the restraint it takes me to not shoot my load too early.
“Fuck, baby.” I shudder as she finds a rhythm. “Ready for me to take over?”
“Ooh, you’re a lot, Nate. Like this, you’re so deep.” She groans. “You’re not making me do all the work tonight?”
I chuckle, rearranging us and putting her on her belly, pulling her hips in the air. I dip my cock into the tight space between her legs and tease her entrance. She arches and allows me to sheathe myself fully in her.
“Are you ready to get fucked, baby?” I grit out, barely able to hold myself back. She looks over her shoulder and nods, and I start pounding into her. She takes it all, pleading with encouraging pants of “More” and “Yes.”
I thread my arm beneath her chest and growl between thrusts, “I take care of my girlfriend. Every. Single. Time.”
She breaks on my words, pulsing around me, while her body takes and takes. I hold her through it, then surge up into her, control slipping, the world narrowing to heat and the way she feels around me when I empty into her.
I release her slowly, dropping on the mattress, breathing hard.
I smooth a palm down her spine, slow strokes until the tremors ease.
Her body is soft and pliant, both of us wrecked and still clinging.
Her hair sticks damp to her cheeks, her chest rising fast against mine.
I smooth it back, kiss the line of her jaw.
For a long moment, the only sound is breathing.
The kind that steadies you, anchors you.
“You good?” My voice is wrecked.
She smiles, flushed and smug. “So good.”
I kiss her throat, taste sweat and the faint salt of her skin. “I should probably check your nightstand. Make sure Leo hasn’t tampered with your birth control. The guy’s invested.”
She snorts. “He’d swap the pills for Tic Tacs. Good thing he doesn’t know I’ve got an implant.”
I grin against her skin. “Smart.” I kiss her again, then lean back to take in the room. “Nice place. Girly. It fits you.”
Her brows lift. “Already redecorating in your head?”
My laugh rumbles. “Before I start on that, I need food. Pretty sure I burned a few thousand calories between the game and you trying to kill me dead.”
She swats my chest, laughing. “Kill you dead?”
“Nearly.” I nudge her shoulder. “Please tell me the fridge is not too girly and holds more than kombucha and Greek yogurt.”
She rolls her eyes, still smiling. “We’ll see.”
“Trouble, I’m telling you, if you don’t give me some food, you’re doing all the work in round two.”
“Oooh, empty threats,” she deadpans. “Better bring a grocery list next time, big guy.” Her smile softens; the air between us steadies.
“I’ll set you up with all the organic, in-season bougie produce the farmers’ market offers.
” She kisses the corner of my mouth and tips her chin toward the kitchen.
“But I draw the line at imported zucchini flowers in the middle of December.”
I laugh and pull her in. “Deal. I’ll let that slide. Now let’s go feed these bodies.”