Chapter Sixteen
Anastasia
Thrilling. Daring. Me—Anastasia Ashcroft—sprinting naked through the woods in nothing but sneakers, clutching my clothes, guided by silver threads of moonlight.
Nyxx is laughing; I’m giggling like a maniac. If the cottage doesn’t appear soon, I’ll tackle him right here on the path.
Finally, with our place now in sight, Nyxx slows, pulling me to a stop as he looks at me, his expression so serious I wonder what changed from one moment to the next.
“Before we get carried away… first time?”
“No, just… not lately.”
His grin softens the moment. “Had to ask.”
When he adds, “Birth control?” it should kill the mood, but it doesn’t. That the rock and roll bad boy is the one keeping a clear head makes something warm and heavy bloom in my chest.
“I’m safe,” I tell him. “And you?”
“Germ-free, princess.” The wink that follows is pure sin.
With that, he picks me up and carries me the last few feet to the porch.
By the time he strides up the three wooden steps, our mood-killing negotiations are behind us.
Now I’m entranced by his shoulder muscles bunching beneath my fingers, the masculine scent of him in my nostrils, and his still-moist body pressed against mine.
Instead of barging inside and going directly to the bedroom, he sets me down, back to the door, and cages me, palms against the wood, bracketing my head.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” His tongue traces the tendon of my neck, a slow lick that ends with a sharp nip. I shiver so hard it makes him chuckle.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Don’t you dare.”
After licking the seam of my lips, slowly, from one edge to the other, he pulls back to murmur, “I’m going to make love to you, Ana. I’m going to lick you everywhere.”
He punctuates that with a deliberate, lingering trail with the tip of his tongue up the tendon of my neck, ending with a nip to my earlobe. Goosebumps sizzle from the point of contact, causing a shiver violent enough to make me toss my head.
“I’m going to scent you.”
He nuzzles his nose behind my ear and breathes in deeply, then exhales with an “Ahhh,” that sounds as though he’s struck gold and won the lottery on the same day.
“I’m going to memorize every hill.”
His cupped hand slides along the swell of my hip, making me wish he’d delve a few inches over, between my thighs.
“And valley.”
He traces the indent of my waist as I silently urge him to get to the good parts. After my midnight run, I’ve pretty much drip-dried, except I’m even damper between my legs.
“Every hill…” One elegant finger skims from the underside of my breast to the tip and doesn’t linger there nearly long enough before it ghosts toward the other tip as he adds, “And every valley.”
This whole time, his penetrating gaze hasn’t left mine. When I lean close, desperate for more dedicated contact with my nipples, trying to graze them against his chest, he smirks. That expression has never irritated me as much as it does right now, even that first moment he barged into my rental.
“Need more, princess?”
Perhaps it shows my lack of experience that I’ve been standing here like a mannequin, letting him take control. Where has the powerful, decisive Ana from the last few days disappeared to?
“Yes. I need more.” But instead of settling back against the door and waiting for him to touch me, I grip his shoulders and turn us around so he’s the one backed against the door. Instead of pouncing on him, which my fingers itch to do, I step back and inspect him.
I try valiantly not to gasp as I appreciate the perfection of his form, but I don’t succeed.
He’s beautiful. His normally wild hair is still damp, so the little ringlets have only begun to spring to life.
The moonlight is murky under the covered porch, so his blue streak is so faint it’s hard to see.
In the dim light, his face is all contrast and shadow—strong nose, generous mouth, and those eyes… imperfect, yet somehow perfect because of it.
As my gaze trails lower, I allow my fingers to do what they’ve been desperate to do for days; I touch him. One fingertip barely grazes his warm flesh as it bisects his chin, coasts down his throat, and trails lower through rippling abs.
“Like what you see, princess?”
“You’re fucking perfect, rock star, and you damn well know it,” I scold.
His shocked smile gives me permission to say whatever is on my mind, so I don’t stop with that.
My eager finger finds his happy trail, and I can’t help but narrate.
“Look at this. Did I just call you perfection? That word is faint praise for this.” I slide the pad of my thumb over his plump head, snagging the bead of pre-cum that was hiding in the shadows.
I feel like an explorer who stumbled onto the find of their career as I keep our gazes locked, bring my thumb to my mouth, and slowly lap at my treasure. It tastes divine—salty, masculine, musky.
Nyxx’s chest is heaving, though he doesn’t say a word, just stands for my inspection, letting me have my way with him. His cock is beautiful in the half-light, standing tall and proud and pumping out more pearls of liquid for me. Who am I to turn down his gift?
As I take another swipe of his essence, my core clenches with need. We’re not touching. He barely grazed my nipples, and that was long moments ago, but I wonder if I could come just from the way his heated gaze is penetrating me, the way his body is ready and willing and eager for me.
As I contemplate whether to drop to my knees and worship his cock—should I lick the vein running up its length?—he moves with the swiftness of a cat, lifts me into the bridal carry, and almost kicks in the door in his haste.