26. Nathan
twenty-six
She askedto table the discussion, but her I don’t know has been sitting like a pit in my stomach since we finished our breakfast.
Claire Benson doesn’t know what she wants because she was never given the chance to think for herself. She’s a prisoner within the four walls that are supposed to keep her the safest, her own parents throwing on the lock and tossing the keys between them like a racquetball. I shouldn’t have tension pounding between my eyes over it, but I can’t help it.
We’ve been reading together in my study for three hours, and I’ve made it through one chapter. Over the past twenty minutes, I’ve read the same paragraph seven times, and have maybe absorbed the articles.
I’m going stir crazy. This is exactly why I work myself to the bone—so that I never have to feel this feeling. But this is different—my discomfort is over her discomfort. I can’t feel content until I know that she is too.
“How’s your book?” I ask, breaking the silence that has been steadily soundtracked by the crackling of the fire and the rustle of Claire beneath her blanket cocoon. I clear my throat of its rasp before adding, “Have you made it to the next book in the series yet?”
Her cheeks pinken, and she lifts her Kindle to cover it. Now, I’m intrigued.
“Oh. No, I uh… Actually, I’m taking a break between books one and two. My favorite author just came out with a new book and I figured if I had the time here, I could probably knock it out in one sitting.”
The more she speaks, the further she buries herself beneath the blanket.
“What exactly are you reading over there, Ms. Benson?”
I have my answer the moment she slithers deeper in to the blanket cocoon, only her eyes and the tops of her shoulders visible. I can barely register her mumbled answer.
“What was that?”
“Filthy, smutty romance, okay! Sheesh! Can’t a girl fantasize a little?!”
I haven’t gotten used to these grins yet, the ones that seem to overtake my face like cheese on pizza dough. The ones that have awakened dormant muscles that I’ve had to relearn how to use. But Claire pulls them out of me, and I don’t want to suppress them.
“No shame in that,” I say, toying with the corner of my own page.
“There had better not be,” she says under her breath, hunching her shoulders up to her ears as she gets lost in the pages again.
I stand, swiping her mug from the side table and tilting my head in question. The frustration in her eyes softens as she bites her bottom lip and nods for the refill I offer. I’m almost to the door when her words have my pants suddenly feeling two sizes too small.
“Better not be making fun of my smut, Harding. PJ Layne is the reason I learned that trick with my tongue.”
“You changed.”
Claire has been here all day. We’ve had breakfast together, and ordered in a late lunch slash early dinner about an hour ago. She finished her romance right before, and is now ten-percent into her latest fantasy. Meanwhile, watching her in my space has finally pushed my cock past its breathing point.
When I left to refill our mugs, I changed into joggers.
“Sitting in jeans all day was getting uncomfortable.”
I take my place back on the couch, and am finally about to start the last chapter of The Fellowship of the Ring when Claire’s arms wind above her head. She yawns, the stretch of her mouth both adorable like a kitten and sinful now that I know what those lips look like stretched around me. On top of that, her oversized crewneck somehow still finds a way to reveal that creamy skin I still haven’t gotten a glimpse of, and I am a dead man.
Well. Maybe changing into less restrictive pants wasn’t the best option.
I sneakily grab a pillow, shift it onto my lap, and grunt quietly as I plow through the end of my book. When I close it, sighing contentedly, I look up to see her staring at me. When she realizes I’ve clocked her, she turns cotton candy pink.
“Sorry. I just finished part one, and figured it was a good stopping point, and then I saw how into your book you were, and how close you were to the end, and…”
She shrugs. I dip my head, eyeing her with a command to keep going, and don’t miss the melting of that blush down the collar of her sweatshirt.
“You looked so peaceful reading. I didn’t want to disrupt you, but I didn’t want to look away.”
“So don’t.”
I can’t force away the intensity behind my request, or the swelling of my heart when she blinks once and keeps my gaze. The moment it becomes too much, I see her fold in on herself. She stands hastily, tossing her Kindle haphazardly onto her bag on the floor, and begins to fold the blanket before smoothing it over the arm chair.
“What are you doing?”
“I, uh…” She bends to shove her Kindle into the bag, then stands, lofting that enormous tote onto her shoulder. “I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. I’m going to head home, get out of your hair?—”
“Stop.”
I can’t cage the demand in my tone. We toed that line in my office, and she’d liked it enough. It comes as a low, gentle syllable, but it’s enough to halt her in her tracks.
“Come here.”
These words, I paint with gentleness, softening my features as she nibbles her bottom lip and does as I ask. I slide my arm down her shoulder, taking her bag back to the ground before I tug her to me by both of her wrists. We’re eye to eye like this, and it takes everything in me not to press my lips to hers.
“I didn’t say you were imposing. If I wanted you gone, you would know.”
A shiver races up her spine, and I slide my hand over her waist to touch her there, tracing the path of that shock to sooth her.
“I want you here, Claire.”
It’s as if those simple words force her back into the present, from whatever cavern in her mind she just disappeared into.
“You’re staying?” I ask. She nods, and I relax, until I can feel the tension in her muscles beneath my fingers.
“You’re still tense. How do we fix that, Claire?”
She shudders, her breath stuttering long and slow as I trace her spine and inch her closer toward me, so much so that she has to grip my shoulders for purchase. My hand slides back to her waist and I squeeze her there, feeling her instantly melt.
“I think you’re doing a pretty good job of that right now.”
I swallow thickly as I reach the bottom of her oversized sweatshirt, and pause. With the slow tilt upward of my head, I swallow down the tension, pinch the hem of her crewneck, and eye her in question.
My brave girl does the heavy lifting for me.
Claire lifts both arms above her head with a squeak, and it’s more than enough permission. The thud of soft cotton on the floor of my study echoes in the otherwise stillness—silence that namely exists because the wind has been taken from me. Because the sight of Claire Benson topless in the flickering glow of my fireplace could bring nations to their knees.
She’s all peach with a watercolor splatter of cotton candy pink that disappears beneath the straps of her bra. I groan, but as I press my nose against the cup and nuzzle there, it sounds more like a whine of desperation. She claws at my shoulders again, and that quick press of her nails into my skin has my tongue darting to trace the simple white cotton until it gets in my way.
“I can take this off, can’t I?” I pant, threading my thumb beneath the strap at her back.
“Yes,” she pants, breathless despite the way I’ve barely touched her.
Her bra joins her sweatshirt and I marvel at the small mounds of her tits, hard nipples that beg for my tongue. I grip her waist with both hands and press the flat of my tongue against her right nipple, making slow, sweet love to it before I bite. This earns me a lithe arm wrapped around my head, so I do it again.
I switch between her breasts, between fluttering and long strokes, biting and soothing until her knees are giving out and it’s the flat of my tongue that’s holding her up. I suck on her nipple, releasing it with a pop before I flip her until her back is resting on the couch. She stares up at me like I simultaneously hung the stars in the sky and arranged the meteor shower to bring them down.
I grip her chin forcefully and tilt it up to meet mine.
“Can’t believe I haven’t tasted this sweet mouth yet today.”
Kissing Claire Benson suspends time. When my lips touch hers, we are the only two people in existence, time and space surrounding us in haphazard indifference. It’s like I can taste colors and see music and hear emotions and feel every texture beneath my nerve endings, which only intensifies when she presses up and nudges the tip of her tongue toward mine.
My tongue meets hers in a shallow thrust at first before I take over, gripping her head in a forceful tilt so I can take control. My tongue plunders over hers, twists and tastes every inch of her mouth until I’m swallowing her gasps. I suck on her tongue briefly, loving the tilt of her hips that accompanies it, and realize that if I don’t slow down, I’m going to crash this train right through the station.
I pull away and bite gently down the column of her throat, pausing to worship her tits, to suck them into swollen little points before my knees hit the floor. My tongue traces her belly button before I bite a gentle path between her hipbones, soothing her skin with my tongue. All the while, the pumping of her hips against invisible friction speaks for her. She hasn’t said a word.
When I reach her panties, there’s a noticeable wet spot in the center.
“Such a dirty girl, Claire. How long have you been wet like this?” I rub my thumb over the wet, then press there, earning me an impatient shift of her hips. “Was it that dirty book you were reading? Because I’ve been hard all afternoon, and I’ll tell you, it wasn’t from my book.”
Her eyes widen, but all she does is squirm. No words. And I wonder if mine are too much for her.
“Can I…?”
I tug at the waist of her panties and she nods, lifting her ass up off the couch. I pull them down to the floor and she kicks them off, her legs still pressed together.
“Be a good girl and open these sweet thighs for me.”
She obliges, and I groan, pressing my lips to her pussy without warning.
“Sweet Claire, sitting ten feet from me all soaked like this?”
I hold her thighs wide with both of my hands and stiffen my tongue, tracing the tip of it through her drenched folds. She tries to circle her hips against my tongue, but I lay my arm flat over her hips, and she huffs.
“The rule under this roof is that you tell me when your pussy needs to be taken care of. Do you understand that, Claire?”
With the flat of my tongue, I lap at her clit, then wrap my lips around to suck. She nods frantically, fisting the couch cushion, but still says nothing.
I’ve never panicked like this before, but all of a sudden, the thumping of my heart isn’t from the naked woman beneath me. It’s from the fear that I’ve crossed the line. That she isn’t into the way I talk in bed, meaning she definitely won’t be into the other things I’d like to do to her.
“Why’d you stop?” she whines suddenly, breaking me from the chokehold of my thoughts. When I glance up from between her legs, she’s biting her bottom lip as her hips tilt aggressively toward my hand.
“You just…” I shake my head. Embarrassed. How do I tell her that her lack of a reaction is making me reconsider what we’ve done? Making me rethink my assumptions about how much she wants to take from me? “You’re just quiet, is all.”
I don’t feel in control right now. Admitting this out loud to her is so completely out of character. I don’t know how she’s drawn it out of me. The tension in my chest restricts my breathing, because for a split second, I’m okay with handing her my vulnerabilities.
“I live in a house full of people, Nathan,” she pants. “I have mastered the silent orgasm. It’s just a habit by now.”
Suddenly, Claire sits up, cupping my face with both hands. One holds onto my cheek while the other runs aimlessly through my hair. “I’m sorry if I didn’t seem like I was into it. I’m so into it. I was turned on because of that book, but mostly because I was picturing the characters as us the whole time.”
I am no longer in my head. Then again, to be in my head, there would have to be blood somewhere other than my cock.
“I love your dirty mouth and all of the things coming out of it. I can be loud for you, I promise. Just put your mouth back on me, please.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.
“You make all the noise you want to with me, Claire. I want to hear my name echoing off the walls when I make you come. Do you understand me?”
She moans, and presses her hand to the back of my head as I flutter against her clit.
“Shit, oh God, yeah. Just like that, Nathan.”
The noises rip straight from some deep, primal part of her, and I have the sudden urge to lock her up until she’s set them all free.
I continue French kissing her clit until she’s got her thighs strangle-holding my head, her moans and groans painting my ceiling.
“More. Nathan, I need…”
I bite down on her clit, and her nails dig into the back of my head.
“Yes.”
“Dirty girl. Do you want it rough?”
She grunts, whines, and grabs my wrist, tugging my hand back to her opening.
I slide one finger in easily, returning immediately with a second. She’s so slick, and I tell her so as I curl my fingers toward her front wall. My name tumbles as I play with her G-spot, her thighs vibrating. Her fingers play in my hair as I focus on the orgasm I can feel in the clenching of her walls.
I press now three fingers against her opening, and slide the tip of my nose up the column of her throat, curling all three fingers against that spot as I hover with my lips above hers.
Her glassy eyes begin to shatter, rolling back in her head.
“Shh, you look at me when you come, Claire. I know it’s good, baby. Let me see it on your face.”
Baby? Where did that come from?
I don’t have time to contemplate, because Claire seems to clench me tighter on that command. I scissor my fingers inside of her, add more pressure to her clit, and rub my aching shaft against her hip, thrusting in time to my fingers inside of her. Her nails dig into my forearm. Her hips pump in a rhythm with my hand. Her eyes flutter closed, head thrashing aimlessly, and as her walls tighten, my name spills from her lips.
“Oh fuck, yes, Nathan, make me come.”
She comes violently, her thighs vibrating with electrical pulses. I wonder if her manicure has drawn blood where her nails dig into my skin. The moans that burst from her chest are a dual win—for me, because she’s finally letting go. For her, because she’s finally allowed to.
She’s barely finished before I feel her pawing at my cock.
“No, no, sweetheart. Not this time.”
She pouts, a whine trickling from her throat as she wraps her hand around me anyway. I lightly slap her pussy, and the way her back bows off the couch, the moan that I earn, tells me that I shouldn’t be telling her no.
“Please, Nathan?”
Her hand slides up the front of my shaft, pressed down the leg of my joggers, and when she finds the tip and squeezes, I can’t help but thrust into her grip.
I slide my pants and boxer briefs to my knees and lay over her, crushing my lips to hers again as I set my cock between her legs.
“I’m not going to fuck you until I know you’re sure,” I say, dipping my fingers into her sweet pussy before using her wet to lube up my cock. “Make sure you know what you’re getting into when it comes to me. But I’ll make you come again, sweetheart.”
I didn’t think dry humping would be on my list of activities tonight, but the slide of my cock up and down against her clit while Claire pants beneath me? She’s shattering all of my plans and for the first time, I’m okay with someone else writing the script.
“Not… fuck, Nathan, I need more. Need more of you.”
She pants, and I forget that I’m the one who loves being in control. Her bottom lip is fully between her teeth as she tilts her hips roughly against mine. I slide my hand beneath her ass and lift, squeezing hard to test her. She nods, moans, and I give her a swat there too before I lift myself off her.
“Up. Bend over the arm.”
She does just as I’ve asked, and the sight of her ass, of the wetness on her thighs? I’m not going to last long.
“You’re such a good girl for me, Claire. Doing just what I ask. Look at the mess you made of this pussy.”
I drop to my knees and lick a line from her clit up over her slit and back, then suck her swollen bud into my mouth before pulling away and slapping her there again.
“Shit,” she cries, thrusting back against my now absent touch. I do it again, and her cries fill this study like a symphony. I swear she gets wetter with each tap.
“Do you like that, honey?” I ask, cupping her pussy to rub the sting.
“Yes. Fuck, oh God, can you do it again? Please, Nathan, I’m so?—”
I give in, slapping her clit once more, and when her thighs press together, I know she’s about to burst. I stand, fist my cock and pump it a few times before shoving it between her thighs.
“Hold these sweet thighs tight for me. This is going to be quick.”
I rut between her thighs, one hand playing with her clit while the other lands a rough smack to her ass cheek. She’s coming again already, and it’s a good thing, too, because with the second smack, she cries out, “Oh, fuck, Nathan, that’s so good, don’t stop, don’t stop,” and I’m about to bust.
“Can I— God, Claire.”
“Come for me, Nathan. Anywhere, I just need you to?—”
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. I pull out from between her sweet thighs, fist myself, and explode on her skin in three pumps.
My head hangs, both hands resting on her ass where I’m subconsciously rubbing soothing circles over the marks I’ve left. When our breathing evens, I bend to kiss the dip of her back.
“Don’t move.”
She nods lazily, and I return in a few minutes with a washcloth. Once we’re both cleaned up, and I’ve tucked her back into those sinful leggings, I turn her over and press my lips softly to hers. It doesn’t take long for her tongue to twist around mine, and though I give in for a moment, I pull away, dotting her face with simple sweet kisses. The opposite of how I usually am. She’s challenging me on every level but I can’t stop diving into the deep end of our unknown.
When I pull away, she’s flushed, my favorite shade of cotton candy pink.
“Master of the silent orgasm, huh?”
Pink fades to red immediately, and when she tries to squirm away, I shift to pull her into my lap until she’s curled up under my chin.
“Excuse me, you’re the one who ordered me to be loud!”
“You’re the one who said you were reading dirty books on my recliner.”
We both laugh, my hands squeezing up and over her shoulders.
“I was uh… serious, you know.” When I pinch my brows in question, she continues. “I was thinking. About you. I think I might do it too much, but I can’t help myself, Nathan.”
She cups my face, her thumb tracing the divot in my chin while her nose grazes the side of mine. I sigh. Content.
“I didn’t intend for this to happen tonight, but I’m glad it did.”
Her smile is gracious, but melts into mischief as she says, “I’d be lying to myself if I said I haven’t been hoping this might have happened, but I certainly wasn’t expecting it. I don’t know if I was expecting that mouth on you either, Mr. Harding.”
I grunt, my hands pulsing on her sides before I remind myself that we need to slow down. I tilt her chin up to me with my thumb, my gaze turning serious.
“Are you okay with that?” I ask.
Her eyes both soften and widen, and she nods, a little Mhm escaping.
“And you were okay with…”
My touch shifts, and when I cup her ass and squeeze gently, her eyes flutter shut, the sound caught in her throat sin in a symphony.
“Maybe a little too much. Keep that up and you might never get me to leave.”
My eyes flare, but I understand exactly what she’s saying. I can’t incite another round.
Instead, I kiss her temple, wrapping my arms around her to hold her there. I don’t want Claire to leave. We can gather up all of the leftovers to make a smorgasbord midnight snack. Put on a movie, or keep reading. We could sit here and talk, about her issues at home, or where she sees herself going next. The thought of her leaving River Valley both fills me with pride and chokes me. But as I’m building up the courage to ask her to stay, to maybe crack open the surface of all that I’ve kept bottled inside, she shifts against me, holding me tighter.
“I should go. And before you protest, it has nothing to do with you.” She tilts her head up to me and cups my chin, stroking the five o’clock shadow that I let become unruly in her presence. “I have some things to patch up at home, and I think rebelling by staying here isn’t fair to you or to me.”
She presses a chaste kiss to my lips, and it takes everything in me not to hold her here. In my lap. In my study. In my arms.
“So, next time, I’m thinking I bring over some things to cook you a real meal.”
She says this all while she slips on her shoes by my front door.
“Next time?” I ask, relieved that she wants to keep coming back.
“Next time.” She nods, cups my chin again, and presses up onto her toes to kiss me goodbye.
“Thank you for today, Nathan. It’s been a long time since someone cared enough to ask me about what I want. Even if I didn’t really talk much about it.”
“You’ll speak about it when you’re ready to. Drive safely, please. Text me as soon as you get home.”
“I will.”