Chapter 18 #2
A second finger joins the first. Her hand finds my hair and grips.
My tongue and my fingers find a rhythm together, building her in layers, each pass tighter, each stroke deeper.
Her hips start moving against my mouth, small involuntary rolls she can't control, her breathing climbing until it's coming in short, sharp gasps.
The sight of her when I pull back just enough to look makes my chest ache.
Her stomach is taut, trembling. The flush has reached her face.
Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, swollen and red.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I want to watch her fall apart with my name in her mouth.
My head lowers, and I give her everything.
With my tongue, I circle her clit in fast, tight, relentless circles as my fingers curl inside her in the rhythm her body has been begging for.
She breaks in stages. First, her thighs clamp against my head.
Then her back lifts off the mattress. Her hand pulls my hair hard enough to sting.
She says my name once, twice, three times, each one louder, rawer, until the last one isn't a word anymore.
It's just sound, pure, wrecked, shaking through her whole body.
She goes limp against the mattress, gasping, her fingers loosening in my hair.
I kiss my way up her stomach. Her ribs. The space between her breasts. Her collarbone. Her throat. She's still trembling when I reach her mouth and kiss her, letting her taste herself on my tongue.
"Why?" she breathes against my lips. Her hands find my belt and start working it open.
"Why is it like this with you? Why do I want to push every button you have, but the second you take control I—" She pulls my belt free and tosses it on the floor.
"I've never wanted someone to tell me what to do.
I argue with everyone. Fight everything.
But when you say hands down, my whole body just..
." She unbuttons my jeans. "Why do I like it? "
I push my jeans and boxers down before kicking them off. Her eyes drop to my hard, thick cock, and her breath catches. Her tongue wets her bottom lip and her thighs press together.
"Because you carry everything," I say. I press her back against the mattress, settling my weight between her thighs.
My cock rests against her pussy, the contact making us both exhale.
"You fill every room. Hold every silence.
You make sure everyone around you is taken care of before you even think about yourself.
You've been doing it so long you forgot what it feels like to put it down. "
I roll my hips once. The head of my cock drags through her folds, slick, swollen, and she whimpers. The sound goes straight to my spine.
"When someone you trust takes that weight off you, when you can stop controlling everything because someone else is holding the structure..." I reach down between us and position myself at her entrance. The heat of her against my tip makes my jaw clench. "You can finally let go."
"Nash." Her voice is barely a whisper.
"It's not about being quiet. It's not about giving up who you are."
I push inside her slowly. The first inch goes in, and her pussy grips me so tight my vision blurs.
I hold still, letting her adjust, feeling her stretch around me, feeling how wet and hot she is.
Her body pulls me deeper even as her muscles resist the width.
Her eyes go wide, her mouth falling open on a gasp, nails digging into my shoulders.
"It's about trusting someone enough to stop carrying it all."
Another inch. Her back arches off the mattress. She's tight, impossibly tight, and the pressure of her clenching around my cock sends a tremor through my arms that I have to lock my elbows to control.
"Oh god." Her nails drag down my shoulders. "Nash."
"Breathe."
She exhales, shaking, and I push deeper.
Her legs wrap around my waist, her heels pressing into my lower back, pulling me in.
When I'm fully inside her, buried to the base, we both go still.
Her pussy pulses around me, adjusting, gripping, the wet heat of her surrounding me so completely that the edges of my control start to burn.
I've waited months for this. Months of watching her across rooms, tracking her hands, memorizing her laugh, pulling back every time my body tried to close the distance.
Now there's no distance. She's wrapped around me, her breath on my throat, and her heartbeat hammering against my chest. The reality of being inside her is more than any version I built on the other side of her bedroom wall.
"That's why you like it," I say against her ear. My hips pull back slowly, dragging my cock along her walls, and her whole body shudders. "Because you've been waiting for someone you can put it down with."
"Nash." Her voice breaks. "Move. Please move."
I move.
The first stroke is slow. Long. I pull almost all the way out and push back in, feeling every inch of her grip and release, the slick drag of her pussy along my shaft. Her mouth opens on a sound that starts as a moan and ends as my name. Her fingers dig into my back, holding on.
The second stroke is deeper. I angle my hips, searching for the spot my fingers found. When the head of my cock hits it, her entire body jerks.
"There," she gasps. "Right there, oh fuck—"
I set the pace. Controlled, every thrust deliberate. My hips roll into hers, grinding at the deepest point, pressing against the spot that makes her eyes lose focus. She tries to speed it up, rocking her hips, her heels digging into my back.
"Faster," she says.
"No."
"Nash, please—"
"Feel it."
"I'm feeling it, you absolute—"
She cuts off with a moan when I grind into her again deeply and hold myself inside her before circling my hips.
Her head tips back on the pillow, her throat exposed, and I press my mouth to her pulse point.
Her skin tastes like salt and coconut. The sounds vibrating through her throat buzz against my lips.
"You don't get to rush this," I say against her neck. My hand slides up her side, over her ribs, and cups her breast. My thumb drags across her nipple, and she arches into the touch. "I've waited too long for this. I'm going to take my time."
"Taking your time is going to kill me."
"You'll survive."
"That's debatable. That's very, very debat—Oh god."
I thrust harder. Just once. A single deep stroke that drives a cry out of her and makes the headboard tap the wall.
Then I go back to my original pace. Her hands fist the sheets, her hips straining against mine, as her pussy clenches around me in rhythmic pulses that test every ounce of discipline I have.
"You're doing this on purpose," she says through her teeth.
"I'm doing everything on purpose."
"I hate you."
"You said that already."
"I mean it more now."
I pull back, grip her hip, and flip her onto her stomach. She gasps and catches herself on her forearms. I pull her hips up, positioning her on her knees, her back arched, her ass pressing against my cock. The new angle opens her up, and when I slide back inside, we both groan.
"Oh fuck. Nasty." Her voice is muffled against the pillow. "I knew you'd be nasty."
The angle is deeper from here. My cock hits the back of her, stretching her, filling her, and every thrust makes her arms shake. I grip her hips with both hands, fingers pressing into the soft skin hard enough to leave marks, and set the rhythm she's been begging for.
Her hand reaches back and grabs my wrist. Her fingers tighten, holding on while I drive into her.
The wet sounds of her dripping pussy soaking my cock fill the room alongside her moans.
She turns her head on the pillow, her copper hair wild across the white fabric, and I can see her profile.
Her mouth is open. Her eyes squeezed shut. The flush spreads down her spine.
"Look at me," I say.
Her eyes open. Green, glassy, wrecked. She looks at me over her shoulder, and the vulnerability in her face makes my chest crack.
"You're beautiful," I say. The words come out rough, raw. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Her eyes fill. She blinks and turns her face into the pillow, but I reach forward and grip her chin. Turn her back to me.
"Don't hide from me."
She swallows hard. Her chin trembles in my hand, and she nods once, barely.
I lean over her back, my chest against her spine, my mouth at her ear. My hips slow to a grinding rhythm, deep, rolling strokes that press my cock against every wall inside her.
"This is what it is," I say. "You push. I hold. You fight. I stay. You try to run and I'm right here." My teeth graze her earlobe. "You don't have to carry it with me, Ruby. You just have to let go."
"I don't know how," she whispers.
"Yes you do."
My hand slides from her chin to her throat and wraps around it.
Gentle. Firm. Her pulse hammers against my palm.
She exhales, her whole body softening into my grip, leaning back against my chest. My other hand reaches around her hip, fingers sliding between her thighs to find her swollen and slick clit.
I press in slow circles that match the rhythm of my hips.
She cries out, her arms giving way, her chest dropping to the mattress, my hand still around her throat, holding her.
I build her from both ends. My cock driving into her from behind, my fingers working her clit from below.
Her whole body trembles. Her thighs shake as her moans climb in pitch.
She grips the sheets with both fists until her knuckles are white.
I can feel her getting close in the way her pussy tightens around me with rhythmic clenches that squeeze my cock so hard my vision narrows.
"Nash, I'm going to come. I can't—I'm—"
"Let go, Ruby."
"I can't, it's too much. It's—"
"You can." I press harder against her clit, faster, my hips driving deeper. "Let go. I've got you."
She breaks.
Her whole body locks, her back arching so hard her shoulder blades press against my chest. Her pussy clenches around my cock in waves so tight I lose the rhythm.
My hips stutter and my teeth find her shoulder.
She screams my name into the pillow. The sound vibrates through the mattress, through my chest, through every nerve in my body.
I come so hard my arms shake. My hips press flush against hers, buried deep, and the orgasm tears through me in pulses that match hers. Our bodies lock together, trembling, the release of months of restraint pouring out of both of us.
We collapse. She goes flat against the mattress. I go with her, my weight on my forearms to keep from crushing her, my forehead pressed between her shoulder blades. Her back rises and falls with ragged breaths. My cock is still inside her, softening, and neither of us moves to separate.
"Nash," she says into the pillow. Her voice is destroyed.
"Yeah."
"I can't feel my legs."
"Good."
"That's not—that's not a normal response to someone telling you they can't feel their legs."
"It is when I'm the reason."
She laughs. Muffled. Breathless. The laugh vibrates through her body into mine, and my arms tighten around her.
I roll us onto our sides, pulling her back against my chest, still inside her, my arm wrapping around her waist. Her body fits against mine. Her hand finds my arm, and her fingers trace the tattoos from my wrist to my elbow.
"Nash," she says eventually.
"Yeah."
"If you ever stand at a wall for a week again while I'm sitting ten feet away thinking you belong to someone else, I will bedazzle your motorcycle."
"Understood."
"I mean it. Rhinestones. Tassels. A basket with flowers. The full Knox treatment."
I lift my head. Look at her. Her face is flushed. Hair is a disaster. Her eyes are bright, green, alive, full of the woman I've been missing for a week. My mouth pulls. The corner lifts. I feel it happen, and I don't stop it.
Ruby's eyes widen. "There it is," she whispers. "The full smile."
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late." She traces my bottom lip with her thumb. "I'm filing this under permanent evidence. Case closed."
I go still.
"The goat," I say.
Ruby freezes against me.
"You named the goat Nasty Nash Jr." I look at her. "Because you were thinking about this."
Her face goes fully red. Caught with nowhere to hide. "I have no comment. I invoke my right to remain silent. For the first time in my life."
"You named a goat after your fantasy of me in bed. Kyle has been feeding a goat named after your sex fantasy."
"That is a dramatic mischaracterization of my naming process, which was deeply layered and involved multiple criteria, none of which—"
"Ruby."
"Fine. Yes. I named the goat after what I wanted you to do to me.
Then I bedazzled his collar. And threw him a baby shower.
And made a poster of him in a crown. While you stood at the wall every Sunday watching me hold a goat named after the filthiest version of you I could imagine. " Her chin lifts. "I regret nothing."
I turn my head and kiss her palm. Her breath catches. Her eyes go soft, tender, unguarded. My girl.
I pull her tighter against my chest. Her hand finds mine and laces our fingers together.
The spare room fills with morning light. Downstairs, the clubhouse is waking up. East's voice. Darla's laugh. The coffee maker starting a new pot.
Ruby is quiet for a moment. Her thumb traces circles on my knuckle, the same circles she used to trace on my stomach during the bike rides. The ones I missed every day she stopped.
"You know what's embarrassing?" she says.
"Tell me."
"I used to watch the other girls get pulled away.
Candace and Malachi disappearing into the bike shop.
Knox dragging Sloane into the supply closet.
Darla and East just... gone. And I was so happy for them, Nash.
I was. But I'd be sitting on that couch with my drink thinking, must be nice.
" She laughs quietly. "I wanted to be one of the girls who gets whisked off to have sex in the clubhouse. That's pathetic, right?"
"No."
"It's a little pathetic."
"It's not." I press my lips against the back of her neck. She shivers. "And Ruby."
"Yeah?"
"Now that I've had you, I won't be able to stop." My arm tightens around her waist, pulling her flush against me. "The spare room. The bike shop. The supply closet. Every surface in this clubhouse."
Her breath catches. Her hips press back against mine.
"Promise?" she whispers.
"Promise. My girl," I say against her skin.
Her fingers tighten around mine.