Chapter 5
NICHOLAS
Danika was a virgin. That admission had stunned me, a blow that left me reeling.
But the fire in her eyes when she swung a leg over me—claiming my hips like she owned them—took every ounce of control I had and burned it to ash. Instinct said to go slow, to be careful with her. But my body had already decided otherwise.
When she peeled off her sweatpants—and then her panties—my breath caught hard in my chest. The light hit her just right, tracing the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist. It was the kind of beauty that didn’t need to try.
It wasn’t some slow, practiced tease. It was raw, real—her trusting me with all of her—and that alone nearly undid me.
When she sank back onto my lap, skin to denim, heat to hardness, it was sweet hell. Every nerve I had zeroed in on that one spot, and I swear I almost came right there.
She paused, her gaze serious. “I just want one thing.”
Protection, I thought, my mind grasping for the last shred of practical thought I had left. “I have a condom in my wallet,” I somehow managed to say.
But she shook her head, a small, shy smile playing on her kiss-swollen lips. “No. I’m on birth control.” Her eyes, dark with desire, traveled over the crisp cotton of my dress shirt, a stark contrast to my strained control. “I want you to take this off. I want to see you.”
Relief hit me hard, followed by a surge of desire so intense, it made my head spin.
I fumbled with the buttons, my usually steady hands suddenly clumsy and useless.
The shirt slid off my shoulders easily, the fabric whispering across my skin.
The air was cool for a half second before the heat of her gaze replaced it.
I could feel her eyes on me like a touch—slow, deliberate—tracing my chest, my stomach, every line and ridge.
She didn’t just look. She took me in, fingertips following the path her eyes had started, skimming my arm, my collarbone…
The way she stared—wide-eyed, hungry, almost awed—was more intoxicating than any touch I’d ever known.
She wasn’t faking it. She wanted me. All of me. And that alone set me on fire.
“Your jeans too,” she said, already reaching for my button.
She had the zipper down in seconds, and I pitched in to help, shoving everything down to my upper thighs. At the sight of my erection, she sucked in a deep breath.
Then, without warning, her small, cool hand wrapped around my rock-hard cock, and I nearly saw stars.
I thought she was positioning me, preparing to take me inside, and I braced myself, my entire body tensing for the tight, hot slide I’d been dreaming of.
But instead, she began to stroke me, her touch tentative and curious at first, then growing more confident as she learned my shape, my weight.
I watched, utterly transfixed, as her chest rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths, the flush on her skin deepening, giving away how much the act—the power of it—was arousing her.
The sight of her pleasuring herself through pleasuring me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration, was almost my undoing.
“God, you have to stop,” I groaned as, against my will, my hips bucked, driving myself deeper into her fist. “Or I’m going to come. Right here, right now.”
Her eyes widened, not in alarm, but with a spark of pure power in their depths. “More of that,” she breathed, her voice husky and low.
“More of what?”
“Dirty talk.” Her gaze locked on mine. “Tell me. Tell me what you’re feeling. What you want.”
So I did. Leaning forward, I captured her mouth in a searing kiss, then pulled back just enough to let the words flow in a low, gravelly rumble against her lips.
“I want to be inside you so badly, it feels like I’m going to break. The way you’re touching me… Christ, it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. Your hand on my cock, your pussy so wet for me… I’m losing my mind.”
I watched my words hit her, watched the way her eyes fluttered shut and that shaky little sigh slipped out. She was winding herself up with nothing but my voice and her own touch, completely lost in it, and the way she took control—bold, unashamed—was hands down the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
Finally, when I was certain I couldn’t take another second of the sweet torment, her hand stilled. She guided me to her entrance, the head of my cock nestling against her warm, slick heat. When she met my gaze, a silent question and answer passed between us.
Then, she began to sink down. It was an excruciatingly slow, breathtaking descent. I felt her body stretch—a silken glove yielding to me inch by agonizing inch.
A brief, sharp flash of pain crossed her features, her brow furrowing, her lips parting in a silent gasp. I held myself perfectly, painfully still, my hands gripping her hips not to guide her, but to anchor myself, to keep from surging up into her and coming right then and there.
“Just breathe, sweetheart,” I whispered, my voice strained, my own body a tightly coiled spring, screaming for release. “Breathe through it.”
Danika nodded, a tiny, jerky motion, and pushed past the initial discomfort. And then, as if struck by an idea, her own hand moved between our joined bodies. She was trying to find that feeling again—that warm, tingly sensation that could overcome the pain.
I watched, mesmerized, as her fingers found the sensitive nub above where we were joined.
Her expression shifted from one of concentration to one of pleasure.
Gradually, the tension in her face melted away, replaced by a building heat that mirrored my own, her breath catching in a different way now.
Slowly, she began to move. It started as a rock of her hips, a gentle testing of the rhythm. I met her movement for movement, a shallow, careful thrust that made her gasp.
“Deeper,” she pleaded, her voice a broken whisper.
I gave in, my hands sliding from her hips to grab her ass, guiding her down as I drove up to meet her, burying myself deep. We both groaned—one sound, one need.
Seeing her like that—head back, back arched, hand moving in that perfect rhythm while she rode me—nearly wrecked me.
I bit down hard, trying to hang on, every muscle tight with the effort.
All I could focus on was her—her breathing stuttering, the way she clenched around me, the soft, broken sounds spilling from her lips with every grind of her hips.
“Look at me,” I commanded softly, needing to see her face when she came.
Her eyes, heavy-lidded and dark, found mine. The connection was electric—more intimate than the joining of our bodies. I could see the pleasure mounting, a storm gathering in her gaze.
“I’m… I’m close,” she panted, her movements becoming less controlled, more frantic.
“Let go,” I urged, my voice raw with my own need. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”
It was all the permission she needed. Her climax broke over her with a sharp, gasping cry that she muffled against my shoulder, her body seizing around me.
I felt her inner muscles clench and release in a series of devastating, rhythmic pulses, a milking sensation that shattered the last of my restraint.
With a guttural groan torn from the depths of my soul, I let go, my own release crashing over me. I held her tightly against me, my hips pumping as I emptied myself inside her, wave after wave of blinding pleasure leaving me boneless and spent.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of our ragged breathing mingling. I brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead, my body humming with a profound, bone-deep satisfaction I’d never known was possible.
Then a sound sliced through the quiet, sharp and intrusive as a shard of glass—the distinct jangle of keys, followed by a burst of laughter just outside the apartment door.
Time seemed to stop as the reality hit me. Her roommates were home.
The intimate, hazy bubble shattered into a thousand pieces. Danika’s eyes, which had been heavy-lidded, flew open, wide with pure panic. We were about to be busted, tangled together, naked and glistening on the living room sofa.