5. Camille #2
My brain short-circuits. “Nathan, what are you-”
“I told you I wasn’t going to rush this.” His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my skirt with them. “Every second I spent imagining you, I’m collecting on all of it.” His fingers hook into the waistband of my underwear, and his eyes meet mine, dark, intense, absolutely wrecked. “Starting now.”
He pulls my underwear down my legs with agonizing slowness, his gaze never leaving mine. Then he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder, opens me up with his thumbs, and leans in.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me cry out so loudly I slap a hand over my own mouth.
“Don’t.” He pulls my hand away, pinning it to the wall beside my hip. “I want to hear you. Every sound. Every moan. I’ve imagined what you sound like when you come for five fucking years, Camille. Don’t you dare hold back on me now.”
Then his mouth is on me again, and I couldn’t stay quiet if I tried.
He wasn’t lying about taking his time. Nathan Cole eats pussy like it’s his goddamn calling in life, slow, thorough, devastating.
His tongue traces patterns that make my thighs shake.
His lips close around my clit and suck until I see stars.
When he slides two thick fingers inside me, crooking them against a spot that makes my vision white out, I have to grab his hair just to stay upright.
“Oh God - Nathan - I’m going to-”
“That’s it.” His voice vibrates against my core. “Give it to me. Let me feel you come on my tongue.”
The orgasm hits me like a freight train.
My whole body convulses, my back arching off the wall, his name tearing from my throat in a sound I don’t recognize.
He works me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks roll through me, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs while I try to remember how to breathe.
When he finally stands, his chin is wet and his eyes are blazing and he looks like a man who just conquered a kingdom.
“Bedroom,” he says, his voice like gravel. “Now.”
I’m too boneless to argue.
He scoops me up like I weigh nothing - one arm under my knees, one behind my back - and carries me down the hall.
His bedroom is dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows, but I can see enough.
A king-sized bed with gray sheets. Minimal artwork.
A bedside table with a lamp and what looks like a medical journal with a bookmark halfway through.
He lays me down on the bed and steps back to pull his sweater over his head.
Holy shit.
I’ve wondered what Nathan looked like under his clothes. Imagined it, in the week since I let myself start imagining. But my imagination was woefully inadequate.
He’s built like a Greek statue that moonlights as a bouncer.
Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. Chest muscles defined enough to make me want to trace them with my tongue.
Abs that flex when he breathes. A V-cut disappearing into his jeans that makes my mouth water.
And that scar on his ribs, the one from his residency, a thin white line that somehow makes him even more devastatingly attractive.
“Like what you see?” There’s a hint of smugness in his voice.
“Take off your pants and I’ll let you know.”
He grins, slow and predatory, and unbuckles his belt.
The jeans come off. Then the boxer briefs. And my brain just... stops.
He’s big. Bigger than Jared, bigger than anyone I’ve been with, thick and hard and flushed with arousal. When he wraps his hand around himself and strokes once, lazily, my inner muscles clench around nothing.
“See something you want?” he asks.
“Get over here and fuck me.”
“Not yet.” He climbs onto the bed, prowling over me like a predator stalking prey. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”
What follows is the most thorough, devastating, mind-melting sexual experience of my entire life.
Nathan strips me out of my remaining clothes with a patience that borders on sadistic, kissing each inch of skin as it’s revealed.
When he finally gets my bra off, he spends what feels like an eternity on my breasts alone, licking, sucking, tugging at my nipples with his teeth until I’m writhing beneath him, begging for more.
“Patience,” he murmurs against my skin. “We have all night.”
“I don’t want all night. I want you inside me right now.”
“Demanding.” He bites down gently on the curve of my breast, and I gasp. “I like it.”
He reaches into his bedside drawer for a condom, rolling it on with practiced efficiency, and then he’s settling between my thighs, the head of his cock notching at my entrance, and everything else falls away.
“Look at me,” he commands.
My eyes meet his.
“I’ve wanted this for five years.” His voice is raw, barely controlled. “Wanted you longer than I ever let myself admit. And now you’re here, in my bed, and there’s something you have to know.”
“What?”
He pushes inside me with one long, slow thrust.
The stretch is almost too much, a sharp, burning pleasure that makes me cry out and grab his shoulders. He’s so deep, so full, hitting places inside me that have never been touched.
“This isn’t a one-time thing,” he grits out, holding himself still to let me adjust. “You’re not a way to get back at him. You’re not something I’m walking away from in the morning. This is the beginning, Camille. You and me. You understand?”
“Yes.” The word comes out broken, breathless. “Yes, I understand. Now move.”
He moves.
Slow at first, long, dragging strokes that make me feel every inch of him.
Then faster, harder, his hips snapping against mine with an intensity that drives the headboard into the wall.
One hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise while the other slides between our bodies to find my clit, rubbing tight circles that have me spiraling toward the edge embarrassingly fast.
“That’s it,” he growls in my ear. “Fuck, you feel incredible. So tight. So wet. Like you were made for me.”
“Nathan - I’m close-”
“I know. I can feel you squeezing me.” He shifts his angle, hitting a spot that makes me see stars. “Come for me again. Let me feel you come on my cock.”
The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, pulling me under, and I hear myself screaming his name as my body contracts around him. He groans - a guttural, animalistic sound - and follows me over the edge, burying himself to the hilt as he pulses inside me.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. We just breathe together, his forehead pressed to mine, our hearts pounding in tandem.
“Holy shit,” I finally manage.
He laughs, low and breathless. “Yeah. That about covers it.”
He pulls out gently, disposes of the condom, and then pulls me against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand strokes lazily up and down my spine while I try to convince my bones to solidify again.
“So,” he murmurs into my hair. “Worth the wait?”
“A solid start.” I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “But I think you’re going to need a lot more practice.”
His hand slides down to grab my ass. “I was hoping you’d say that.”