7. Nash
Fuck this food!
That was Nash’s thought right after Mica whispered, “It’s something I’ve been thinking about constantly.”
Before he could contemplate whether he’d heard her correctly, he pushed back the tray in front of him and stood. The five or so steps that separated him from where she was sitting on his couch were quickly covered and he towered over her. Every part of him was rigid with arousal he’d been sitting in that recliner trying desperately to reign in.
“Tell me what you’ve been thinking,” he said, making one last ditch effort to calm himself.
Mica wasn’t like the women he was used to being with. Before he’d gotten locked up, discretion hadn’t been in his vocabulary. Nash had fucked whichever one of the women who were willing to do whatever it took to get the attention of one of the bikers—also known as CA’s or club ass—that had been lucky enough to be in the bar or at the compound when his dick got hard. The list of available ass grew much smaller once he was in jail because Chief didn’t play that shit. The old head who’d served as lead enforcer for over twenty years in the club only dealt with a specific clientele of women who knew exactly what was up when they stepped into that private room on the lower level of the jail and bent over that steel table to be taken. And Nash had been cool with that. He’d also learned a lot about life from Chief and brought that same discernment toward any woman he considered taking to bed once he was out.
None of the women he’d deemed worthy enough to get his dick had been brought to his home though. It was always a hotel and usually one that was outside of town. He didn’t need or want anyone in Destine in his business, nor did he need any of the women he’d chosen getting ideas about rolling up on him unannounced. He made the boundaries clear from day one and rarely slept with anyone more than three times, to avoid the possibility of the lines getting blurred as he knew they often did where women were concerned.
But Mica was different, with her compact little body and those imploring eyes that on first glance might seem innocent. He’d seen beyond that when he’d given in to the urge the first time and kissed her. He’d seen and felt the passion brewing inside of her, just waiting to be set free. She was shorter than him, especially when she’d come into work last Saturday morning, wearing those Army green cargo pants and white Chuck’s. Her ass had looked so plump in those damn pants, tonight he had to grit his teeth to keep from begging her to stand up so he could see it again, in real time.
What the hell had he been thinking bringing her here? To his home? When for the last two weeks all his most salacious thoughts of her had occurred while he’d been in the privacy of his own space. Hell, just last night he’d jerked off to the memory of her wearing that fuckin’ tight ass sweater dress and chunky-heeled boots to work yesterday. He’d been trying to keep a distance between what he wanted to do to her and how he needed to act around her. They weren’t on the same page, not in the same league. She was here to do a job and he was working on a dream. Nowhere in his plans was a woman who could disrupt his flow the moment she entered a room.
The sound of her clearing her throat snapped him out of his thoughts.
And now she was here. Staring up at him with those damn eyes that seemed to reach right inside him to grip his heart.
“Do you really want to know what I’ve thought about?” she asked just before pulling that plump bottom lip between her teeth.
Fuck it! He didn’t even attempt to hide the groan and hoped like hell she noticed his dick trying to break through the zipper of his jeans.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice hoarse, hands clenching at his sides. He wanted to grab her up and carry her into his bedroom. To toss her onto his bed and…
“I want you to fuck me,” she said and his mouth went dry. “I know I come off as being reserved and perhaps a little on the quiet side. But I’ve never been one to shy away from what I want.”
He swallowed. Hard. And released his clenched fingers. But he still didn’t speak, couldn’t. There was another war going on in his mind right now. The part of him that wanted her naked and beneath him ASAP and the part that knew even if he was going to give her what she wanted—and he for damn sure was going to do that, possibly all fuckin’ night long—then he had to get some things straight first.
With careful movements because he really wanted to toss that TV tray that was sitting in front of her across the damn room, he lifted it and moved to set it on the other side of the couch. When he returned, Mica was still sitting there, hands resting in her lap as if she were waiting for his next instruction. He eased himself down until he was in a squatting position directly in front of her. “And you want me?” he asked, holding her gaze.
“Yes,” she said, her voice soft, but stern.
“Just for sex,” he said even though the words sounded wrong.
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “I’ve been contemplating the work thing for weeks and I had planned to stick to keeping that defining line between us, but?—”
“But that shit’s getting too hard,” he replied, repeating the words that had been rumbling through his mind as he’d sat in that recliner talking to her. Trying to focus on making sure she wasn’t working with Earl, because that shit would’ve definitely put this attraction on hold. At least he thought it would. He was quickly finding that things with Mica weren’t as easy to predict as he’d thought.
“It’s becoming impossible,” she whispered.
“Definitely,” he said and because there just weren’t anymore words, at least not that he wanted to speak, he reached for her.
One hand went up to cup the back of her neck, while the other found her hip as he moved forward and touched his mouth to hers. It was like a reunion, a hot and sloppy reunion full of tongues, lips, and moans. He nipped her bottom lip and she returned the favor but pressed down deeper on his until he basically growled.
“You like pain?” she asked when their lips parted momentarily.
He was diving back into her mouth again, twisting his tongue around hers, pulling back so he could suck hers into his mouth, then nipping the corner of her mouth. “Hell yeah,” he murmured. “I need you naked.”
And just so there was no ambiguity about his request, Nash moved first. He came to a stand and grasped under her arms to help her up as well. Then, he was pulling the thin sweater she’d worn today up and over her head. When her hands went to the button of her pants, he pushed them away. “I’ve got this,” he told her, needing to be the one to strip away every barrier that had been keeping him from taking her in completely.
He undid her pants, then eased her back down onto the couch to remove her boots and socks. Standing her up again, he did away with the pants before pausing at her panties. There was nothing sexy about the plain nude material but that didn’t stop them from being the most alluring thing he’d ever seen. With his gaze fixated between her legs now, to her still covered mound, he lowered himself until he was on his knees. Then he pressed his face into her and inhaled deeply. Her hands instantly went to the back of his head and she gasped.
He kissed her mound then and extended his tongue to lick over the material as his hands went to her waist. He had no idea how long he’d licked her, drenching her panties as he sought the scent of her. It was a heady fragrance; one he knew would be forever emblazoned on his mind.
“More,” she whimpered. One hand went to his shoulder and the other stayed on his head. “More, Nash. Please.” She panted each word out now, like they were her last wishes.
He snaked a finger beneath the top band of her panties and began pushing them down over her hips, then her thighs until she was bracing both hands on his shoulders to step out of them. The moment she was bared to him, Nash lifted one of her legs to drop onto his shoulder. She would’ve stumbled but he’d already looped an arm around her waist to hold her still as she instinctively pressed her pussy into his face and he whispered, “That’s right, bonne fille. Bonne fuckin’ fille.”
Her thigh trembled before his tongue touched her clit. But when it did, she let out a long, loud moan that had him going for her full force. She hadn’t assumed he could speak French. Hell, he hadn’t given her any reason to think his shop-working ass knew anything other than bikes. But he’d taken French for two years in high school and had passed the class because Ciara Lewis had agreed to tutor him in exchange for him fuckin’ her senseless each time they had a study session.
Mica tasted like heaven. If that was a taste that could be bottled up and put on a shelf, she was it. And he would spend every dime of his savings to buy up every damn bottle to keep for himself it was so good. Her soft plump folds had been already damp when his mouth met them, still he sucked each into his mouth before licking them. He twirled his tongue over her clit, pressed it momentarily beneath the hood until she whimpered and whispered his name. Then he closed his entire mouth over her. His nose was wet with her and so was his chin, but Nash wanted more.
Pulling back and letting her leg down as slow as his fevered breathing could manage, he eased her back onto the couch. Then, that was as far as his gentleness would go. He had both her legs up on his shoulders now while he buried his face between them again. Mica bucked beneath him, practically screaming his name now and the moment he hooked his fingers inside of her, she came. Clenching her thighs so tightly he thought he might die down there—in which case he would certainly die a happy ass man. Unraveling so completely for him he wanted to sing her praises, to drown her in kisses and promises but he caught himself.
With one last kiss to her now swollen clit, he pulled back and eased her legs down. He meant to move all the way off the couch, to stand up and tell her to follow him into his bedroom so he could give her what they both wanted, but he just stood there. Staring down at her wearing nothing but the bra he hadn’t thought to remove once he’d seen and tasted her pussy. Her creamy light skin was perfect, those same freckles from her face sprinkled over her shoulders, some lighter ones marching over her breasts. Her toenails were painted white, just like her nails. Those brilliant green eyes were watching him as he watched her and he licked his lips. Tasted her on them and had to close his eyes.
What the hell was he doing?
He kept asking that question but had yet to give himself the right answer.
Nash had carried her into his bedroom.
After standing there and staring down at her for what felt like endless moments, he’d picked her up, cradling her against him like she was a baby and carried her grown ass into the most private portion of his space. From what she could tell from the décor and just generally from the way Nash carried himself, this apartment and every room in it was his spot in the world. The place where he came to unwind and be himself. She wasn’t totally sure how that worked in conjunction with the man she saw at work, the shop manager who flawlessly ran his department while keeping a good rapport with not only the staff members directly under him, but also others in the dealership, but she liked it. She liked both sides of him.
Which is why when he’d opened that door to what was brewing between them again, she hadn’t hesitated to walk through. Hell, she’d promised herself if the opportunity presented itself again, she was jumping on it. She was jumping on Nash Waters and his fine ass!
Well, she hadn’t exactly done that a little while ago, but in her defense, how could she after he put that masterful tongue and mouth on her pussy. It had been just as she’d dreamed, no, that wasn’t right, it had been better. Much, much better than any part of her imagination could’ve conjured. That’s why she’d been thankful that he decided to carry her into the bedroom. Immediately after the orgasm his mouth had given her, walking wasn’t a safe possibility.
After setting her on the bed with more of those gentle movements that contradicted every hard and gruff edge to the parts of his personality she’d been privy to, Nash stood at the end of the bed. The way he watched her should have been unnerving or perhaps weird, but it actually made her feel cherished. Revered. He seemed to study every part of her, taking it in and committing it to memory. She wanted to do the same with him.
So when he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, she pushed herself up onto her elbows and watched him. He knew she was watching too and that made her feel hotter all over. Had her nipples pebbling behind the thin material of her bra and more wetness pooling between her legs.
“You like to watch, joli fille?” he asked, voice deep, eyes blazing.
The corner of her mouth lifted into a smile as she nodded. “I didn’t know you spoke French,” she said. He’d called her good girl before, when she’d so wantonly pressed her pussy into his mouth. Now, she was pretty girl and her heart thumped just as wildly with that compliment as it had with the other. In this moment she would be any and everything Nash wanted.
He sat on the bed and leaned over to untie and remove his boots. She watched the bunch and pull of muscles in his back with the motion. There were tattoos there as well. An eagle with spread wings in the center and a date just beneath it. She was just about to roll over, to get close enough so she could reach out and touch the numbers and ask what they meant. But he stood from the bed and began pushing down his jeans and boxers. The next sight had taken all her words, her thoughts and when he finally turned around so she could have a full-frontal view, her breath.
Nash Waters was the perfect specimen. Every inch of his body was sculpted, like it was created just for the centerfold of some salacious women’s magazine. But, oh hell no, there shouldn’t be any staple or crease in the center where his long, beautiful dick resided. Thick, veiny and utterly delicious is how she would describe his arousal that jutted forward as if it knew she was admiring it.
“Show me that pretty pussy.” His words tumbled through the otherwise quiet bedroom and she hurriedly did as he requested.
Laying back on the pillows, she spread her legs wide for him to see. His gaze dipped low as he wrapped a hand around the base of his dick and jerked it forward. Precum oozed out of the tip and Mica licked her lips. Without direction she lifted her legs until her feet were planted firmly on the bed and let her knees fall outward.
“Play with that shit, baby,” he whispered. “Make her nice and wet for me.”
Mica did what he asked, loving how his candid words fell over her. She moved a hand between her legs, pushing her fingers through her moist slit before easing them down to press inside her.
Nash groaned. “Hell yes, baby. Shit.” He groaned again, then moved to pick up his pants and find his wallet. Once he pulled the condom packet from the wallet, he ripped it open and sheathed himself.
Then he pressed his knees onto the bed, lifting her legs to rest in the bend of his arms. “I’m about to give you what you wanted,” he said, staring down at her with a furrowed brow. “What we both want.”
She kept her gaze on him, loving the intense look in his eyes. “Yes,” she whimpered, then gasped when he pressed the head of his dick to her entrance.
He glanced down between them, then brought his gaze back up to meet hers. “So fuckin’ tight,” he mumbled and pressed forward again.
Mica tried to relax, she tried to mentally open herself to him, knowing the seventeen months she’d gone without a living breathing dick being inside her was the culprit. She had an arsenal of sex toys, but tonight, Nash was the first man to have entered her in a very long time.
“That’s it, baby. Let me in,” he said rocking his hips against hers as more of his length slid inside.
She gripped the sheet beneath her, closing her eyes to the stretch and pressure. It felt so painfully good she wanted to yell out in pleasure, but she was biting down on her bottom lip instead. When he gave one final push, planting all of himself firmly inside of her, she gasped.
“Look at me,” he said as he lowered his face until his forehead rested against hers.
Her eyes popped open and he pulled back just a little, so that their faces were still close, but she could see his furrowed brow, the way his teeth were clenched and the hint of confusion in his eyes.
“I want you to watch me fuck you, Mica.” The words sounded strained. “Watch me, make us both cum this time.”
She nodded and he kissed her, taking her mouth in a savage assault that left her panting.
He was so deep inside of her now, so amazingly, wonderfully deep and she loved it. He was giving her measured strokes, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing throughout the room. They went on like that for she didn’t even know how long. When Nash put her legs down, she thought he would switch their position, turn her around, ask her to ride him. But he did neither. Instead, he remained buried deep inside, settled his elbows on either side of her face to rest his weight and stared into her eyes as he continued to drive into her. Continued to take her higher and higher until all she could feel was his depth, all she could smell was the combined scent of their sex and bodies, all she could see was the strained concentrated look on his face as he held her gaze. And all she could hear was the way he whispered her name repeatedly as they both found their release.