CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CLARA
The penthouse was all shadows and angles when we arrived.
Moody baseboard lights threw just enough light to keep us from tripping over things.
Art lined the walls, sleek furniture filling the space, but none of it mattered.
Nash had been kissing me so deeply the entire ride up the elevator that I could orgasm if he even looked at my underwear right now.
Once we crossed the living room, Nash flipped on the lights and began unzipping my dress. “I need this off you.”
Anxiety slithered through me. He hadn’t seen me naked—or even partially unclothed—since our last time together.
I’d been a different woman then. Mentally.
Emotionally. But especially physically. He had no idea the lengths my shapewear went to in order to give me the figure he’d had his hands on all night.
“Let’s go somewhere…darker.” I stilled his hands, guiding him toward the staircase to his room.
“Too bright in here?” He arched a brow, following my lead. “I can turn them down. I thought the sconces were more moody and less garish.”
“Oh, they’re nice. They’re fine. I just…I want to go see that view from your bedroom for real. Without the lights on.”
He accepted this and we hurried up the stairs. Once we were bathed in the comforting darkness of his bedroom, lit only by the specks of light from neighboring skyscrapers and office buildings, Nash returned to me.
“You’re mine now, Scarlett,” he murmured, brushing his lips softly against mine. “I’m ready for dessert.”
He pulled away, grabbing me by the hand and leading me into the bathroom. Just enough of the city’s glow reached the cavernous space to let us see our way. He paused at the huge jacuzzi tub and opened the spigot.
“Let’s take a bath.”
I laughed nervously. “Do I stink?”
“Definitely not. But we should make this romantic, right?” He grin was devilish as he moved around the bathroom, lighting small candles. “Since we’re engaged, or something.”
“Not technically,” I reminded him. “You haven’t fake proposed yet.”
“Should I do that now?” His handsome face, illuminated only by the flickering light of the candles, made my heart wrench. I couldn’t bear to hear his sweet words, even if they were in jest. Or in ruse. Or whatever this fake thing was that felt so real.
“You don’t have to. Remember? We’ll just schedule a photo shoot soon and call it a day.
” I was glad he couldn’t tell how many butterflies were swarming inside my belly.
I felt like a lamb up on the sacrificial altar, about to be cut open and exposed for him to feast on.
Four years ago, I’d felt empowered by this.
Now, I felt like I was about to fail a test I hadn’t prepared for.
Once the bathroom was perfectly lit, he added bubbles to the water. And then rose petals.
“Are you…real?” I asked.
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Right. Because you’re a robot. No man I’ve ever met would prepare a bubble bath by candlelight for a quick lay.”
He came up behind me, pressing his lips to my shoulder.
“You’re not a quick lay.” My dress unzipped.
A moment later, it crumpled around me on the floor.
“And as for the rose petals and candles, I have a lot of business contacts, and they love to shower me with gifts. We are reaping those benefits tonight.” Nash helped me step out of my dress and turned me to face him.
“Why are you grimacing?” he asked with a laugh.
“Because you’re seeing my shapewear,” I moaned.
“Is it illegal if I see it?” The amusement in his voice was cute. But it didn’t override my embarrassment.
"Not illegal. Just not...ideal."
He smoothed his hands over the stretchy, straining fabric. “Well it’s fucking sexy. And I want you out of it.”
“Getting out of it is the opposite of sexy. Almost as un-sexy as getting into it. Have you ever tried to stuff dough back inside one of those spring-loaded canisters? It’s kind of like that.”
“I’m totally fine with oozing, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
That comment made us both burst into laughter. And then suddenly, Nash was kissing me, devouring my mouth, thrusting his tongue past my lips. Before I knew it, he’d rolled the shapewear down until it was bunched at my hips. I gasped when I noticed.
“You sly devil.”
He tugged the shapewear past my hips and then jerked his chin toward the bath. “Sit on the edge of the tub.”
I did as he said. He tugged the shapewear down my legs, gently lifting my feet until it was completely removed.
That just left my black lace bra and panties, which he eyed like he planned to eat them.
He hooked his fingers around the edge of my panties and tugged them down, exposing my very recently trimmed hair.
Thank God I’d at least had the idea to do a little maintenance work before tonight. Not that I’d expected to end up here.
An appreciative hum escaped him as he got onto his knees in front of me, his gaze stuck to the shadows between my legs.
He reached behind me to unclasp my bra and it crumpled around me.
He pulled it away, his gaze stuck on my peaked nipples.
He leaned forward and took one between his lips, so gently that I wondered if I imagined it.
A shuddery gasp escaped me, and my eyes fluttered shut. He did it again to the other breast, and I bucked my hips involuntarily.
“What do you want more right now?” he asked, his voice coming out gritty. His thumb traced lazy circles on the side of my bare thigh. “Your clit in my mouth or my cock buried inside you?”
I choked a little from the question. “I…I can’t choose.”
“Come on, Scarlett.” He pressed his lips to one knee, then the other. “Don’t make me choose.”
I arched myself toward him, just needing more of whatever he was willing to give me. “Maybe you should. I just want all of you.”
He grunted, dragging his thumb across his lower lip. “Spread your legs for me.”
I did as I was told, barely able to breathe as his kisses moved up my leg. He fit his head between my legs, spreading me open, humming softly before brushing a finger against my slick core.
“You’re soaked, babe.” He brushed his thumb over my clit, causing my whole body to jolt.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror lately,” I said, my voice strained.
He stroked my clit lazily, looking up at me with a devilish grin. “Have you been like this every time we’ve gone out?”
I didn’t want to admit the embarrassing truth—that I’d been masturbating to memories of him for four years now. That he was the best I’d ever had. That I worshiped at the altar of Nash Nightingale.
“Maybe,” I managed to squeak out.
“Oh my God.” He found my entrance and pushed one rough, thick finger inside me. “I can’t believe I’ve been playing it safe when you needed me so bad.”
My eyes fluttered shut as he eased another finger inside me before flattening his tongue against my clit.
A moan escaped me, my head lolling back as the sensations overcame me.
His tongue made lazy, gentle swipes at first. But as my thighs tensed and my back arched, he quickened his pace, flattening his tongue over my swollen clit before swapping his fingers for his tongue.
I shouted at the sudden delicious penetration. The way he buried his tongue combined with his nose pressed up against my clit sent me right over the edge. My thighs clamped around his head and I cried out, the waves of pleasure streaking hot and fast from head to toe.
My legs kept trembling even after the orgasm receded. Nash looked pleased with himself as he stood. He reached into the tub to turn off the water, never taking his gaze off me.
“I thought that was dessert, but it was really the appetizer,” he said, his rough voice scraping through me.
The sight of him unbuckling his belt and removing it in the dimly lit bathroom made my core clench with need all over again.
He made quick work of shucking his pants and unbuttoning his shirt until he was just in boxer briefs.
Tattoos stretched across his collarbone, over the wide expanse of his pecs, curling around his shoulders, down his bulging biceps.
For a moment I got lost in the art—the vintage illustrated rooster, a sprawling sunset against cornfields that bled into the soaring skyscrapers of NYC, twin birds across his ribcage.
There were roman numerals, phrases in Latin, coordinates, and so much more.
But then his dick stole the show. His thick cock strained against the fabric, the bulbous head peeking past the waistband. My head was spinning. Never in a million years had I imagined I’d share a night with Nash again.
Certainly not after he’d peeled me out of my shapewear.
He was naked then. Broad, powerful, toned, and completely tatted. My fingertips grazed over his thick thighs as he fisted himself.
“Get in the water,” he growled. I obeyed his command, slipping into the warm bubbles, gasping as the sweet scent overcame me.
The water sloshed gently at the sides as I waited for him to join me.
He guided me to scoot forward and got in behind me, easing himself to seated before pulling me into his arms. His thick cock was trapped between my ass and his lower belly as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Holy shit, this is nice,” he said into my ear before biting my lobe. A shiver ran through me. I didn’t even have words to express how much I agreed with him. I rolled my hips, seeking the hard length of him against my ass cheeks.
“It’s so much more than nice,” I murmured as his hands wandered up my belly, cupping my breasts, slipping across my hard nipples.
I relaxed back against him, feeling completely held in a way I couldn’t remember ever feeling.
I kept rolling my hips, hungry for his cock, desperate to feel him fill me.
“You are so fucking sexy, Clara,” he growled into my ear.
“Don’t you mean Scarlett?” I teased, though I could barely form words at this point. The water sloshed around us as he matched my movements from below. His thick cock rubbed against the crease of my ass and up to the small of my back.
“Clara. Scarlett.” He angled his hips then, allowing his cockhead to make contact with my dripping pussy. He eased himself in as he growled, “My girlfriend.”
His cock slid into me, sending electricity skating through my limbs as my mind spun from his words.
I gasped as he stretched me, slowly filling me until there was no more room forward.
A long, ragged moan escaped me and I collapsed backward against his chest. He held me tight against him, and I clutched his powerful forearms.
“Fuuuuuck, you feel so good.”
I whimpered. I had no words. This was heaven.
“You’re so fucking tight around my cock, Clara.” He began to move slowly, rocking beneath me. Every movement felt like bliss. “Fuck, I didn’t forget.”
I could barely open my eyes, much less form a sentence, but I managed to say, “Forget what?”
“How good you feel.”
My head tipped to the side. He had me completely supported, my full body weight against him as he fucked me slowly and thoroughly.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”
I whimpered as he eased himself out of me and then drove into me again. I shivered in his arms, and he held me tighter, rubbing a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“As long as I have?” I gasped.
“Since you walked out of,” he drew himself out then plunged himself back inside me, “my hotel room four years ago.”
He snaked a hand down between my legs, still holding me tight against him with his other arm. He pinched my clit as he eased himself in and out, his breath growing more ragged at my ear.
It was too much. It was perfect. It was the hottest evening of my life. I couldn’t believe I’d been ready to deny myself this heaven because of my damn shapewear. Another moan escaped me as my thighs tensed, preparing for another orgasm.
“It’s so fucking hot when you make that noise,” Nash growled in my ear before tugging at my earlobe with his teeth.
His fingers worked slow, methodical circles over my clit underwater.
Everything about this—the water, the position, the city lights, the candles, the feel of his huge cock inside me—was the new peak. Nothing could get better than this.
“Nash, I’m so close,” I whimpered. “Fuck me. Fuck me harder.”
Nash didn’t waste a moment. I worked my hips against his cock as he plunged powerfully into me, reserving nothing.
The water had waves like a bubbly ocean as he fucked me into oblivion in his jacuzzi tub.
The sound of water hitting the floor was the last thing I heard as the orgasm crested and took over.
I screamed, or cried out, or something. I couldn’t even tell because my consciousness detached from my body and I entered a parallel dimension for a few moments from the sheer bliss of it.
I clutched his arms for dear life as he reached his own climax, stilling and groaning as he pumped off his rounds inside me.
When the water calmed, we both struggled to catch our breath. He buried his lips into my hair, never letting go of me for a second.
Life was perfection in Nash’s arms. I wasn’t going to fight it anymore.
Even if it meant it would end in heartbreak.