11 #4
I loved the feel of him beneath my hands.
The effect my touch had on him. I shamelessly stroked and tugged on the erection that was so large I could barely close my hand around it.
It felt unimaginable to be the one that got to touch him.
After all the years of wondering, I was finally the one with him in bed. The one he wanted.
Nash shifted his body underneath me, adjusting the way I was sitting so he could get one hand down between us. The second his large finger circled my clit, my body jolted.
I moaned, loving the way he touched me.
“Damn, Kennedy,” Nash growled, his voice deep as he slid a finger inside me.
“Nash.”
I could’ve come right then, on just his finger. The way he stroked me, curling his finger at just the right spot, had me seeing fireworks. Nobody had ever affected me like that.
A second finger joined the first, stretching me, and I lost what little control I had. My body moved on its own, grinding against his hand, chasing more.
“Oh God . . . oh God . . . oh God,” I whispered, the orgasm building fast, like a freight train barreling down on me. Nash’s fingers pumped faster, deeper, while his hips bucked, thrusting that massive cock into my fist. I tightened my grip, loving the feel of him and the sounds he made.
I was right there, my breath hitching, my toes curling, when he suddenly pulled his fingers from me and flipped me onto my back.
“Nash . . .” I groaned, eyes squeezing shut. I’d been seconds away from what would have been the best orgasm of my life.
His voice was low, rough, and trembling with restraint when he asked, “What do you want, Kennedy?”
“More.”
“Kennedy,” he urged. “Open your eyes and tell me exactly what you want.”
His incredible body hovered over mine, but all I could see were those blazing green eyes locked on me, burning right through every wall I’d ever put up.
“You,” I said because it was the only truth that mattered.
“Yeah?” he coaxed, leaning closer. “How?”
“I want . . . Nash . . .” I said and reached for him. “I want you . . . I need you.” As soon as the words left my lips, I cringed. It sounded desperate, and that was so not me. I was a quiet lover who never directly asked for anything.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Kennedy?”
Wow.
I gulped. He was direct. But he was also right. I did want that. I wanted him—everything with him—more than I’d ever wanted anyone else. The feel of him pressed against me was even better than I had imagined.
Why stop now? I’d already come this far. I might as well be honest.
“Yes,” I replied, my voice steady but filled with desire.
Nash’s gaze darkened.
“Are you sure?” he asked softly, so different from the rough edge he’d shown a moment ago. “Because if we go there, it might change things between us. Are you ready for that?”
Was I?
And just like that, every insecurity rushed back. All the reasons why this was an extraordinarily stupid idea. A heartbreak in the making. I tugged at the blanket, wanting to cover myself, but Nash’s heavy body was in the way.
“Kennedy,” he murmured, my name like gravel and silk at the same time. “I want you, but I need you to be sure that you want me too. That you want this. Us.”
Us.
I swallowed back a sob. He wanted me. And as scary as taking this big step would be, I wanted to experience the closeness I’d always dreamed of with the man I’d loved since he was a boy.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His breath hitched. “Let me get a condom.”
He moved with the speed and grace of a big cat, slipping off the bed and reaching for his pants. Seconds later, he was back, a small foil packet in hand. My whole body trembled as I watched him tear it open with his teeth before he rolled the condom over himself.
“Be gentle, Nash,” I begged, suddenly a little worried about the sheer size of him as he settled between my legs. “I’m not sure I can handle . . . all that.”
His body went still for a beat, then softened.
The smile he gave me was nothing like the cocky smirk I was used to.
It was warm, almost boyish. “Ken,” he murmured, cupping my face in his big hand.
The kiss that followed was not as desperate or demanding as the earlier ones.
This one was slow and tender. The kind that made the world fade until there was nothing but him and the quiet thud of my heart against his chest. “I’ll be gentle, baby,” Nash promised.
Baby.
And he was.
He took his time, kissing me, caressing me, and driving me absolutely out of my mind before he finally gave in and pressed forward, easing himself inside me. I gasped at the sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness, and he froze instantly.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“Yeah . . . just give me a second.”
I breathed through the pressure of having him inside of me, forcing myself to relax, to allow my body to stretch and get accustomed to his size. Nash bent forward and kissed me gently while holding himself perfectly still, like he knew he was hurting me and apologizing for it.
“Okay,” I murmured after a few moments.
He pushed deeper, slow and steady, giving me time to adjust. Inch by inch, he filled me, his mouth never leaving mine—tongue licking, stroking, sucking—until he was buried as far as he could go. A deep, satisfied sigh rumbled from his chest.
I grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled, needing to hold on to him, to ground all the sensations I was feeling because they were becoming too much.
“Oh, fuck, Ken,” he groaned in my ear. “You feel incredible.”
So did he. Better than I’d ever imagined—and I’d imagined everything.
Nash pulled back and slid in again, setting a slow, agonizing pace. My heart hammered in my chest as the voice inside my head cheered. It was finally happening. The years of wanting, waiting, were over.
The pace built, his thrusts driving deeper, harder, until the bed frame smacked against the wall. The stretch, the fullness, the raw power of him—I knew I’d be sore later, but there was no way in hell I’d ask him to slow down.
“Nash . . .” I moaned, my grip tightening around his back, feeling the muscles ripple under my palms as he moved over me, inside me. The tingling that started in my toes spread like molten lava through every nerve, building fast toward an eruption I wasn’t sure I could handle.
“I know, baby. Just let go,” Nash urged. “I got you.”
My nails dug into his skin, probably hard enough to leave marks, but I couldn’t stop.
“Come on, come for me, Kennedy,” Nash urged, and I did.
My body shattered, pleasure crashing over me so hard I saw stars.
I bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming, my whole body tightening around him.
Nash followed right behind me, swelling and twitching deep inside me.
His head dropped into the crook of my neck, his entire body going rigid as he groaned—a deep, rough sound that was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
We stayed still, joined together, catching our breaths. When Nash pulled out of me a minute later, it felt like a loss. Like a part of me was missing.
He discarded the condom in my wastebasket before sliding back into bed beside me. Without a word, he pulled me into his arms, our bodies facing each other. His hold was warm and safe.
I lay there, stunned by what had just happened. It wasn’t just the best sex I’d ever had—it was with him. My childhood best friend. The boy I’d wanted for as long as I could remember. The one every woman wanted.
And I totally understood the hype and the rumors. Sex with Nash Reed wasn’t just good. It was amazing.
I swallowed hard against the lump rising in my throat. How was I supposed to walk away from him after this?
If I’d ever thought one night with Nash would be enough, I’d been out of my damn mind.
“That was incredible,” he murmured against my ear.
“Yeah,” I breathed, still dazed. “Wow . . .”
He chuckled, dipping down to press a soft kiss to my lips. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His eyes searched mine, full of concern.
“I’m okay, Nash. I think I’m just . . . a little overwhelmed.” Which had to be the understatement of the century.
“About?” he asked, brushing a kiss against my cheek.
“You.” I snorted. “This.” I gestured between us, meaning everything that had just happened. “And you,” I added with a laugh, glancing lower, referring to his size. “I don’t . . . I don’t do these sorts of things . . .”
His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheek, and he kissed the tip of my nose.
“It was amazing, Kenny.”
“You don’t have to say that,” I whispered. “I know you’ve been with plenty of women. I’m sure you’ve had a lot better than me.”
“Hey.” Nash pulled back slightly, making me meet his gaze. “It was really good, Kennedy, because it’s you.”
Before I could answer, his soft lips brushed mine again, sending my heart into overdrive. “I can’t wait to do it again with you.”
My heart rate spiked once more.
“Yeah?” I asked, my voice going high.
“Yeah,” he said without hesitation.
He deepened the kiss while my mind replayed his words over and over.
He wanted to do it again—with me. I hadn’t had time to think about the aftermath of crossing the friendship line, but whatever I’d expected, this was not it, and I loved it.
I couldn’t wait to hear him growl and fall apart inside me all over again.
Nash took my hand and guided it down, showing me exactly how much he meant it. He was already hard.
When we finally fell asleep—after another slow, breathtaking round—tangled in each other’s arms, I had the biggest smile on my face. I couldn’t remember ever being this happy.