28. Nick #2
“I fucking love when you touch me,” I say, voice rougher than sandpaper.
“I love touching you,” she replies huskily. She traces the outline of my tattoo, eyes hazy, then her hands find my achingly stiff cock again. I’ve leaked precum all over myself, and she lifts her sticky fingers to her lips, licking them clean with heavy-lidded eyes.
Holy fuck.
Heat rushes through me, and I lower my hands between her thighs, wanting to taste her too. When I find her thong completely drenched, my gaze flies to hers in shock.
“You’re soaked,” I rasp, and she nods.
“Because of you .” Her hips rock toward me, seeking more.
“I’m turned on because you’re turned on.
It’s so hot, Nick. Fuck.” She takes my mouth hard, her tongue sliding over mine in a wet, messy kiss, the kind that makes my cock surge.
“I need you now .” Before I can say a word, she pushes me away, then falls to her hands and knees on the rug in front of the mirror.
Shit, I was so lost in the moment with her, I’d forgotten about that part.
I glance reluctantly at the mirror, catching sight of myself. A red flush creeps across my chest and my jeans sit around my knees, dick hard and purple, straining for release.
I’m a fucking disgrace.
But when I look back at Zinnia, literally on her hands and knees for me, I shove the feeling away. She couldn’t be more willing—more vulnerable —and I want to be right there with her.
Kicking off my jeans and underwear, I kneel behind her, pushing her thong aside to line myself up with her slick entrance. An excited breath leaves her as I make contact and then slide into her without hesitation.
“Oh, God, honey,” I rasp, head falling forward. How did I ever turn her down? What the fuck was I thinking? I need every single moment I can get with this woman, and I won’t waste another one.
“Feels so good, doesn’t it?” she purrs, rocking her hips back on me.
“So good. Fuck.”
I grip her waist, watching myself slide in and out of her. I could watch this all fucking day.
But Zinnia has other ideas.
Her hand comes over mine, squeezing. “Look at yourself. Look in the mirror.”
I force my gaze to my reflection, even as the discomfort is palpable, a bad taste in the back of my throat.
“What do you see?” she asks, gripping the rug as she works herself on my dick.
I want to answer her, but my eyes fall closed, distracted by the pleasure of her movements.
Or maybe I’m looking for a reason not to play ball.
Zinnia stills her hips, withholding the pleasure.
“ Look , Nick,” she says firmly, and I have no choice but to bring my gaze back to myself.
“Imagine you’re Michelangelo, studying the contours of the male form.
Look at how fucking divine you are. Every muscle you’ve carefully carved into your body. ”
Her words land hard. In all the years I spent studying the human form, I’ve never once looked at mine with any kind of admiration.
But now, at Zinnia’s command, I gaze at my image.
Firm, sculpted shoulders, hard slabs for pecs, visible ridges in my abs.
Even with the grays peppering the hair on my chest and stomach, I have to admit I’m in pretty decent shape for a guy my age.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, and she must read the acknowledgment on my face, because she smiles, resuming her movements. She grips my cock like a glove, and my hips rock to meet hers, needing the friction.
“You’re so fucking hard,” she rasps. “I love it.”
She’s not wrong. Maybe it’s doing something so unorthodox, or maybe it’s simply getting to see her on her hands and knees, her breasts swinging with each thrust, but I’m as hard as steel.
Her eyes are pitch-black as they move over my reflection. “Look how beautiful you are when you’re turned on.”
I swallow, taking in my disheveled hair, the flush on my cheeks, the slightly feral look in my eyes. My first instinct is to turn away, to shut it down, but that’s not what she wants.
I’m turned on because you’re turned on .
She wants to see me like this. She wants me to completely lose my composure. To completely give myself to her.
My hips rock with another thrust, harder this time, and she grips the rug tighter.
“Yes, Nick,” she breathes. “Fuck me deep and watch what it does to you. Watch yourself come undone.”
It’s safe to lose control with me .
I slam into her again, and the pleasure is so intense that the careful grip on my self-composure loosens. The guy in the mirror releases a rough groan, his face slackening with pleasure, muscles bunching as he thrusts again.
Let me be your Jackson Pollock canvas .
With every thrust, I watch Zinnia take me deeper, overcome by desire. She’s never once held back with me, and suddenly, I can’t imagine why I’d hold back with her.
Why I wouldn’t return that gift.
I drive into her again, reveling in her moans. God, the way she takes me so willingly, her lips parted in pleasure, eyes rolling back, knuckles white as she grips the rug.
“Harder,” she begs. “Give me everything. I want to feel it all.”
Something about those words pushes me over the edge. The final thread of my self-control snaps, and I shove her forward onto her elbows.
“This what you want?” I grit out, plowing into her roughly. “You want me to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow?”
“Fuck yes, Nick.” She emits a shuddering moan, taking every brutal thrust. “Oh my God, yes .”
My balls slap her clit as I pound her mercilessly, overcome by an animal instinct I’ve never felt. I can’t get deep enough, can’t move fast enough, but instead of feeling fear, I feel unstoppable.
Zinnia stares at me with wild, fiery eyes in the mirror. “More,” she pleads, and I grip her hips hard enough to bruise.
“You want me so deep you can taste it?” I growl.
“Yes.” She quivers under me, legs shaking. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Her eyes move over my reflection, desperately drinking me in, and this time she doesn’t have to tell me.
I look at the guy fucking Zinnia, the sweat beading on his brow, dynamite in his gaze, muscles rippling as he claims her without hesitation.
He looks strong, powerful, determined. I want to be that guy.
Fuck, I am that guy.
The realization hits just as Zinnia cries out, clenching tight around my dick in release, and my orgasm rushes at me hard and fast. A guttural moan tears from me as I spill into her, hips jerking, pleasure washing through me so intensely I lose track of time and space.
When I finally blink back to reality, Zinnia is staring at me in awe in the mirror. “That was amazing,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “ You’re amazing.”
Self-consciousness presses in suddenly, suffocating and unwelcome, and I issue an uncomfortable laugh, drawing away to get her a washcloth.
“No.” She rolls onto her back, grabbing my hand before I can rise. “No pulling away. No walls up. Look.” Her other hand trails down her stomach, between her thighs. “Look at the beautiful mess you made in me.”
I hesitate, heat searing my cheeks, even as the sudden reticence confuses me. A minute ago I was fucking her for dear life, and now I’m too embarrassed to look between her legs?
But she releases my hand, grabbing hold of my jaw, forcing my gaze down. She spreads herself, letting my cum ooze out of her pink slit. I watch as she smears it on the inside of her thighs, painting herself with my seed, and my flagging dick stirs to life again.
“See? It’s a masterpiece.” She grins up at me. “Jackson Pollock would be proud.”
A surprised laugh bursts from my chest, any embarrassment melting away. I run my eyes over her, naked and spread out on my rug, face flushed with satisfaction, eyes hazy.
This woman… God . She’s so funny. So clever.
And she gets me in a way no one ever has.
From the moment we met, she awoke something in me, reconnected me with who I am deep inside, the man I’ve tried to contain, the man I’ve turned away from time and time again.
Tonight, I finally felt the power he holds.
Power she helped me see. The power in who he could be—who he is —when he lets himself.
I’m so fucking grateful to her for this gift, but I don’t know how to say it.
All I know is this: I cannot go back to who I was before tonight.
“Come here,” she says, reaching for me.
She doesn’t have to ask twice. I crawl over her, taking her mouth in a passionate kiss as her arms twine around my neck.
“I told you it’s not too much,” she whispers, fingers stroking my jaw. “You could never be too much for me, Nick.”
We part to gaze at each other, emotion tightening my throat.
She doesn’t look away, and having her here, steady and unwavering, makes my heart fill my chest. The moment stretches out between us, the air growing thick, so many thoughts racing through my head.
So many words I can’t bring myself to say.
In true Zinnia fashion, she seems to know when to lighten the mood. Her mouth kicks up on one side, and she releases a light laugh.
“Keep fucking me like that,” she says wryly, “and I might never leave.”
This time I have to look away.
Because what she doesn’t realize is, that’s exactly what I want.