54. Indy
FIFTY-FOUR
INDY
I sit on Nick’s kitchen counter wearing a pair of his boxer shorts and one of his T-shirts that says “I have a theory” on the front. He’s dressed in a pair of shorts and nothing else.
I watch him cook breakfast, stealing chunks of vegetables from the cutting board, and he pretends to be exasperated with me.
“This will be a pretty lousy breakfast skillet if you eat half the ingredients before it goes in the oven,” he says when I grab another handful of the carrot slices he’s just finished cutting.
“Sex makes me hungry.” I shrug. “And watching you cook makes me want to have sex. It’s one of those endless loops.”
He finishes cracking eggs on top of the mix of vegetables, bacon strips, and cheese in the skillet, slides it into the oven, then leans against the counter next to me.
His fingers slide up the inside of my thigh, and he rubs circles on the skin with his thumb.
A wisp of heat starts to twist and curl in my belly like a fire being lit.
The higher his thumb moves, the hotter it gets.
I watch his hand, tracing every move of his fingers with my eyes, mapping the path he creates on my skin.
My cock is heavy and thick against my abdomen. He pulls back a bit and runs his hands upward, over my stomach.
He cups my ass and yanks me to the edge of the counter, keeping me in place with an arm wrapped tightly around my lower back.
He leans forward and nuzzles my neck, then the sensitive skin below my ear. He bites down on my earlobe, and I shiver.
“I want to fuck you,” he murmurs into my ear.
A breathless, needy laugh escapes me. “Yeah?”
He nods, his forehead moving against my temple. “Want to get inside you again. Need inside you.”
He keeps massaging my ass, and his voice is low and demanding.
It sets off yet another wave of desire. I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access to the sensitive skin of my neck.
He bites down where it meets the curve of my shoulder then soothes the sting with his tongue. My limbs tremble with anticipation.
He bites down harder, tugging at the skin with his teeth, sucking it between his lips. It’ll leave a mark.
My cock is so hard it makes me dizzy.
My stomach swoops at the hot look in his eyes when he meets my gaze.
His fingers move to toy with the hem of my shirt, pushing it upward slowly, almost like he’s taking his time with a present. I lean back, balancing on my elbows. He pushes the shirt up over my abs, up my chest. The fabric grazes my nipples, and they pebble into tight nubs.
His eyes keep tracing my bare skin, the lines of my body. It feels like a physical touch. Goosebumps make my nipples even harder. He licks over the pad of his thumb and presses it down on one.
I suck in a breath as tingles run up and down my spine.
With my shirt up around my neck, he moves lower. Fingertips hook the waistband of the boxer shorts. He starts to drag it lower. The head of my cock pushes out, the tip wet and glistening.
He drags the waistband lower still. It scrapes over the hypersensitive skin of my cock. By the time the material is all the way down my length, I’m panting. He drags it lower and pushes it underneath my balls.
A pearly drop of precum leaks out of my slit.
I look down at myself, splayed out on his kitchen counter, shirt up, cock heavy and hard, balls pushed forward, aching and full.
Another pulse of precum. A drop slides down the side.
Nick lowers his head and licks it off. I snap my hips up, every muscle in my body clenching.
He lifts his head and straightens his back. The only sound in the kitchen is my labored breathing.
“Please,” I gasp when he just keeps looking at me.
Do something.
Something.
Anything.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says. His eyes linger on my nipples. My belly button. Lower. Hips. My jutting cock. But then he looks at my fingers and the backs of my hands. My thighs. My legs hanging over the edge of the counter. My knees.
He slides his palm up my thigh again.
My pulse thunders in my ears. Pounds in my neck.
“But then, you always were,” he says hoarsely.
His hand is almost at my cock. It jerks in anticipation.
Almost…
Almost…
The beeping of the oven pierces the air like a siren. I snap my eyes up and blink at the sudden intrusion.
Nick sends me a smirk and grabs the oven mitts.
“Seriously?” I pant.
“Do you want to burn down the building?”
I drop my head back, close my eyes, and groan. “Fuck.”
I can get a handle on myself. I swear I can. I start to sit up, but then the fucker lowers his head and swipes his tongue over my cock again.
“Don’t move,” he says.
“But—”
I swallow whatever I was about to say when he drags his tongue from the root of my dick to the tip, swiping up the precum.
“Don’t move,” he says again.
I keep still, splayed out for him, watching as he puts the skillet down and sprinkles some chopped herbs on top. My stomach rumbles, which seems impossible because how? He moves around, setting the table. I remain on the counter, mostly naked, cock hard against my abdomen.
He puts plates on the table. Forks. Knives. Glasses of water.
I blow out a breath. My body’s calmed down a bit. I’m not right on the edge like I was a few minutes ago.
Nick chooses that moment to drop to his knees on the floor. Before my brain can even compute what’s happening, my cock is in his mouth, and he’s sucking it. I push myself up to a sitting position, back pin straight, eyes wide as I look down.
The head of my cock is in his mouth. His eyes are on me.
He sinks lower, taking me deep, until his mouth is full of me.
He cups my balls, still sucking me with long, deep strokes of his mouth.
“Nick,” I gasp. My fingers go to his hair.
He doesn’t slow down. The pull of his mouth only grows more intense as he sucks me off with the determination of a man on a mission.
His fingers sink into my ass cheeks, then he pulls off my cock and nuzzles my balls.
My dick is spit-slick, skin glistening in the morning sunshine.
He kneads my ass cheeks so hard he’ll leave marks. I need those. I want to look at my ass tomorrow and see the reminders that this day happened.
“I want to eat you out,” he says, voice all gravel. “I’ve dreamed about it. I want to finger you, I want to fuck you, I want to fucking live inside you, Blue.”
“What are you waiting for, then?” I pant.
He cups my balls in reply and sucks me into his mouth again.
I won’t last. I’ve been teased to within an inch of my life. There’s no way I’m going to last.
His fingertips graze the underside of my balls, pressing down on the sensitive spot just behind them.
“Yes,” I moan. “Nick. Fuck.”
He takes me even deeper. His hold on my balls tightens. It’s almost painful, straddling the edge between pleasure and pain in the way only Nick knows how to balance perfectly.
My hips jerk forward.
I empty my balls into his mouth in thick, long spurts of cum. He sucks me to the pulsating rhythm of my cock in his mouth until I can only see sparks in front of my eyes.
He sucks me until my body goes lax. He sucks me until my cock softens in his mouth.
Finally, his forehead falls against my thigh, and he blows out a shaky, tense breath.
“Fuck, Blue,” he says hoarsely. “I’ve missed your taste.” He buries his nose against my balls and inhales. “And your smell. I fucking missed it so much.”
I draw in a shuddering inhale. I feel too vulnerable.
“Then why did you leave?” The question falls from my lips, unbidden.
He stills. My fingers clutch his hair, and I pull his head up, forcing him to look at me.
“You’re breaking your own rules, Blue,” he says.
I press my lips together and look away for a moment before I meet his gaze again.
“Feed me, Nicholas,” I say. “I’m starving.”
“I like it when you do that,” Nick says. “Call me Nicholas.”
I raise my brows at him while I take a drink of water and pick up my fork again. I’m in the middle of my second helping of his skillet breakfast, sitting in his small breakfast nook, bare feet tangling with his underneath the table.
“Why?” I ask with a small laugh.
“It makes you sound so very prim and proper.”
I spear a cube of potato on my fork. “And that’s a good thing?”
He smirks. “You’re not, though.”
I point my fork at him. “Says who?”
Nick’s quiet grin widens. “Don’t even try,” he says softly. “I know you too well.”
“Okay. What am I thinking about right now?”
He pushes his plate away and leans forward, his head tilted to the side, studying me.
I look back. At his messy hair. The hickey I sucked into his skin on the base of his throat early in the morning. His swollen lips. Bare chest. I’m getting hard again. Insatiable as he makes me, I could crawl toward him, pull his shorts down underneath the table. I could—
“You want to suck me off,” he says in a low voice.
A throaty laugh escapes my lips. “Your dick is not my whole personality, Nicholas.”
He tsks softly. “It was your rule that we’d be honest, Blue, so what’s with the lying?”
His grin is smug now. It’s an I-told-you-so of a grin.
I can’t hide my own smile.
I lean forward too. “Whenever I get myself off, I think of you.”
His exhale sounds like the air’s been punched out of him.
“Proving my point,” he says, his voice thick, eyes hungry.
“And you’re right—I do want to suck you off. It’s one of my most frequent fantasies. Being on my knees for you.”
He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath before he abruptly pushes his chair away from the table, gets up, grabs my hand, and tugs me to my feet.
“I wasn’t finished with my breakfast yet,” I say, blinking at him innocently.
He hauls me against him, his mouth crashing down on mine.
“Then again, it can wait,” I say once he’s done kissing the ever-loving fuck out of me.
The bed is a mess of sheets and pillows. I’m lying in the middle of it all, flat on my stomach, my forehead resting on my folded arms. Nick is above me, his lips on the back of my neck. My hips jerk when he bites down on the pulse point.