Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
RONI
After that day, we fall into a rhythm so fast it should scare me.
We drive out to the country house on Nathan’s days off, stay up late making pancakes and watching dumb documentaries, then sleep half the morning away tangled together in a massive nest of sheets and limbs and the lingering smell of coffee.
On club nights, we crash at the penthouse, make late-night grilled cheeses, and sometimes sneak onto the rooftop to look at the city lights.
I’ve started visiting the club for a couple of hours each night just to spend a little time with Nathan, and I’ve discovered I love hanging out at Midnight Mischief.
It’s definitely not how I pictured our life together, but honestly?
I’m obsessed. I get to smooch Nathan anytime I want, eat club fries at midnight, and then escape to a ridiculous country estate that looks like the set for a Hallmark movie.
I keep thinking it’ll feel weird, but it just…
doesn’t. It feels right. Like this is what we were supposed to be doing all along.
Nathan tells me to go wild with the holiday decorations, so, obviously, I do.
There are twinkle lights up the staircase, fake snow on every window at the penthouse, and enough cinnamon-scented candles to fumigate a small village.
When we get to his country place, I fill the entire front porch with pine garlands and giant red bows.
Nathan just watches, grinning like a maniac, and hangs up whatever ornament I hand him.
On Christmas Eve, we’re tangled together on the couch, eating pizza and staring at the world’s most aggressively festive Christmas tree.
I mean, there are enough twinkle lights on it to induce a seizure.
Every branch is covered in the most ridiculous ornaments I could find.
There’s a pizza slice, a disco ball, and a tiny plastic flamingo wearing a Santa hat that Nathan found at a gas station last week and insisted was “essential for holiday magic.”
I’m snuggled up against Nathan’s side, his arm heavy around my shoulders, and my feet are in his lap because he’s starting to love my fuzzy sock collection.
Nathan slides a hand down to my ankle, fingers idly tracing little circles just above the sock line. It should not be sexy. It is. My entire system short-circuits every time he grazes my skin, and he freaking knows it.
“You know,” he says, voice low and all sorts of sinful, “I used to look forward to the holidays because it meant I could hang out with you.” My heart freaking melts.
“Me too.” I bury my cheek against Nathan’s chest, feeling his heartbeat thud under my palm.
His T-shirt smells like laundry detergent, expensive cologne, and a little bit like pizza.
Basically, heaven on earth. “Honestly, I never really cared about the holidays at all until we started spending them together. You make everything fun. Even untangling lights.”
“Bullshit. You’re a holiday psycho.” Nathan’s hand slides under the hem of my pajama shorts, fingers tracing lazy circles on my thigh. Every nerve ending in my leg wakes up and does a little happy dance.
I snort into his shoulder. “Excuse you. I’m festive. It’s not my fault you’re a total grinch.”
His mouth does this dangerous, slow curve. “If I’m a grinch, why am I letting you put up a twelve-foot-tall inflatable Santa on my roof?”
“Because I bribed you with sex?” I can’t believe I just said that. My cheeks are on fire. Like, actual-sunburn-in-December level red.
Nathan just grins at me. “Not gonna lie, it was a very compelling argument.” He bites my earlobe, just for emphasis, and I nearly drop my plate of pizza onto the floor. “Santa’s lucky I didn’t put up an entire army of inflatable reindeer.”
“Oh, don’t tempt me.” I wiggle my butt against his thigh and try to act casual, but his hand is already sliding higher under my shorts, fingers tracing dangerously close to the “bribe” zone. “I have an cart full of light-up snowmen. I can do some serious damage.”
Nathan growls, all possessive caveman, and yanks me closer like I weigh nothing. The plate actually does hit the carpet, but neither of us cares. “You want to bribe me with sex, Veronica? That’s fine by me.” Nathan’s hands are already on my hips, fingers digging in like he’s got something to prove.
I barely get a chance to breathe before he flips me over so I’m straddling his lap. My thighs land on either side of his hips, and holy hell, he makes that look so easy. I don’t even try to protest as his mouth moves over mine, all tongue and hungry little bites. My brain shuts down.
He palms my thigh, squeezing. I gasp as he slides my pajama shorts up, exposing the ridiculous red thong with pink lace trim Dee insisted I buy for “holiday emergencies.”
Nathan’s grin is pure wicked. “You wearing these for me, baby?”
I want to gobble him up whole. “Maybe.” I squirm in his lap, hoping he notices how wet I am already.
Nathan pushes the shorts higher until the thin red thong is on full display, and his dark eyes go nuclear.
“You’re killing me with these, Roni.” His voice is so deep it sends shivers down my spine. He slides his finger along the lace, snapping it against my skin, and I nearly launch off his lap. Holy. Crap. My body is on fire, and we’re not even halfway undressed.
He tugs my shorts over my hips so slowly I almost whimper. He’s completely focused, like undressing me is the most important thing he’s ever done in his life. His fingers trace along my outer thigh, then up the inside, and I swear my nerves are about to riot.
I wriggle, trying to help and hurry things along, but he pins me in place with one massive arm. The other hand tugs the elastic of my thong, letting it snap back with a wicked little sting.
“Hey!” I try to sound outraged, but it comes out super breathy, like a squeak toy on its last legs.
Nathan just gives me this evil, panty-melting grin, like yanking my thong and smacking my ass is the most normal thing in the entire world. “You like that?” His voice drops low, rough as gravel, and holy crap, I almost dissolve into a puddle of goo.
I pretend to glare, but it’s useless. My cheeks are on fire. “I’ll get you back for that.”
He arches one wicked brow. “Promises, promises.” His hand runs up the back of my thigh, palm hot, and then he actually spanks me.
“Nathan!” I’m half turned on and half ready to combust. “Did you just spank me?”
“What if I did?” He palms my ass, squeezing like he owns it, which, let’s be honest, he basically does at this point. “Are you complaining?”
“Not at all.” I actually enjoyed it way more than I thought I would. “I’m telling you to do it a little harder next time.” I’m not sure who’s more shocked by my words—him or me.
“You’re going to keep me on my toes, baby,” he growls against my neck. I’m already soaked, and he hasn’t even gotten me halfway naked yet.
Nathan nips at my earlobe, his breath hot as hell. “You want more?” His hand slides back to cup my ass, fingers digging in. “You just tell me what you want, Roni. I’ll give you everything.”
I shudder. My brain-to-mouth filter barely functions. “I want you to fuck me right here on the couch in front of the Christmas tree.” Oh my God, did I just say that out loud?
“Good girl.” That’s all I get for a warning before he hauls me closer. His huge hand runs up the inside of my thigh, knuckles bumping the soaked lace of my thong. He lets out a low whistle. “These are fucking perfect. I’m going to buy you at least twenty more pairs.”
He doesn’t waste any more time. In one smooth move, he yanks the thong aside and runs his thumb right over my clit, and I nearly combust. My hips jerk, and I let out this embarrassing squeak, but he just grins like the evil overlord of Christmas sexy-times.
He rubs my clit again, thumb circling slowly, and I swear to God, I’m not going to survive Christmas Eve.
Holy. Freaking. Hell.
My hips buck, and the thong is so tight, the friction makes everything twice as intense. I dig my nails into his shoulders as Nathan rips the thong off and slides two thick fingers through my folds. His fingers are so warm, and when his thumb comes back to my clit, I nearly black out.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, my insides going hot and shaky.
I try to hold on, but his hand is so big and strong it pins me right there, straddling his lap like I’m meant to live here.
My thighs shake as he brings me to not one but two orgasms. I’m gasping, body limp, brain absolutely fried from how fast and hard Nathan just made me come.
But he’s not even close to done.
Nathan yanks his sweats down, and his cock springs free, thick and heavy and leaking at the tip. Holy hell, it’s even hotter than I remember. I want it. I want him. Now.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, hands gripping my hips, and slams me down onto his rock-hard erection in one smooth move.
I try to scream, but his huge cock snatches the words right from my throat as he fills me to the absolute max.
The stretch is delicious, filthy, perfect.
I grasp his shoulders and ride the wave as he buries himself so deep I see freaking stars.
He groans, grabs my ass, and starts bouncing me in his lap, hard enough to make the ornaments on the tree rattle. And I love it.
Nathan’s hands grip my hips tighter, fingertips digging in, steering every single move.
He rips my T-shirt over my head and leans back, giving himself a front row seat to my boobs jiggling all over the place.
His stare is shameless, hungry, borderline feral.
“Jesus, baby.” He palms my boobs with both hands and worships them while I ride him like a woman possessed.
My nipples go instantly hard, and Nathan groans again, rough and wild and just for me.
He tweaks one between his fingers, and my head falls back.
He latches onto my nipple, sucking hard while he bounces me on his cock. I might just pass out from how freaking good it feels. The tree lights blur and spin in my vision. All I can do is hold on and moan his name.
“Oh my God.” Nathan’s cock pounds into me so deep and hard I see actual freaking lights. “Nate, I can’t—I’m going to—”
“Come for me, baby.” His voice is pure gravel as he slams me down on his cock again.
The orgasm rips through me, wild and bright as he explodes inside me, cock pulsing and fingers digging into my ass. Best Christmas ever!
When I drag myself back to work after two weeks off and a wonderful Christmas spent with Nathan, the idea of returning to that gray office feels like a joke. I catch myself counting the minutes until I can get home again, where everything is easy and right.
One late afternoon, the sunset hits the trees behind the house in this ridiculous, painterly way that makes the whole backyard look like it was designed for an Instagram thirst trap.
I’m sprawled on the porch swing, feet tucked under a Snoopy Christmas blanket, with a glass of my favorite wine in my hand.
Nathan is at the railing, phone in one hand, his other hand shoved in his pocket.
He’s handling club business, but every minute or two, he looks over at me like he’s making sure I haven’t wandered off.
Eventually, he puts the phone away and sits down next to me. For a second, neither of us says anything. The world feels suspended, perfect.
Nathan’s voice breaks the silence, soft and honest. “I never thought I’d share this place with anyone.”
I glance at him. He’s staring straight ahead, like he’s worried I’ll bolt if he meets my eyes.
He keeps going. “I bought it after the club took off. Wanted somewhere that felt like mine, you know? Spent years keeping it perfect. Never had anyone out here except Eamon.”
I put my glass down and shift closer, blanket pooling in my lap.
He goes on, voice lower. “Last week, I was out here and realized all the food in the fridge was shit you liked. There was a pair of your socks by the door and some reality show paused on the TV. It hit me—this place isn’t mine anymore.
It’s ours.” He glances over, finally meeting my eyes. “And I fucking love it.”
My throat nearly closes up. I want to say something cool and witty, but I’m too busy trying not to tear up.
Instead, I say, “I’m afraid I’m going to screw it up.”
Nathan frowns. “You’re not.”
“You don’t know that.” My voice is tiny, uncharacteristically shaky. “Sometimes it feels like, if I blink too hard, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone, or it’ll turn out this was all just a dream.”
He doesn’t say anything for a second. He just reaches out, cups my cheek in his big, warm hand, and rubs his thumb along my jaw.
“It’s fucking real.” The words are steady, absolute. “You’re the only thing that’s ever felt permanent in my entire life.” He lets his hand drop to my lap, trapping both my hands in his. “We’re in this together, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you never regret it.”
God, this man. He says stuff like that with no hint of drama, just plain fact, like he’s reciting a weather forecast.