Chapter 18 #2
“What are you thinking?” I ask, curious about the change in his expression.
“Nance found an orange cat in the backyard and insisted I adopt him. Reginald, the cat with the name no one but Nance would have given it.”
“Reginald!” I laugh.
“Nance said it was dignified, and he had this way of looking at everyone like he was better than them, so the name actually fit.”
Grinning, I tuck my hand under the pillow, settling in for this unexpectedly funny childhood story. “What was Reginald like?”
“An asshole. He meowed constantly, clawed at my door whenever I tried to shut him out, demanded to be picked up and the second I did, he scratched up my arms for no reason.”
Reginald definitely sounds like an asshole.
I have never had a pet, but this cat makes me feel extremely wary about ever being near one or letting one get near me. “So you hated the cat?”
I know I would.
He puts his mouth right beside my ear, as if terrified someone will overhear, and whispers.
“I liked Reginald, even though he had a stupid name and left me with lifelong scars. He snuggled in my lap and let me pet him when I felt the loneliest, and he always wanted to sleep curled up by my feet at night. Nance knew I needed a friend, and she gave me one that my dad couldn’t take away from me.
” He grins at me. “My dad was allergic, so he stayed away from anywhere Reginald was.”
I love Nance more and more every day.
I smile. “Nance scared me at first, mostly because I think she hated me, but you were lucky to have her in your corner.”
I’d have loved to have someone like Nance fighting in mine.
He returns my smile. “She didn’t hate you. Nance worried you were here to take advantage of me, but as soon as she realized she was wrong about you, she was the first to admit it and determined to go after you and bring you back here safely.”
My eyes water. “Really?”
“Really. I didn’t always appreciate everything she did for me, but I do now. She’s like a mom, grandma, housekeeper, and fierce defender all rolled into one. And she’s always been there for me.”
“Reginald sounds… scary,” I admit, and that’s putting it mildly. “Dignified name and all, I’m not sure I’d have been in a hurry to keep picking up a cat that used my arms as scratching posts.”
He laughs. “Yeah.”
“What happened to Reginald?”
His smile dims. “He got old and died.”
“Time moves too fast.”
“It does.”
I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Sorry you lost Reginald.”
His eyes widen in surprise, then soften in pleasure. He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I was lucky to have him. Not that I thought I’d ever be grateful when Nance thrust a pissed-off cat at me and told me to take it.”
We both laugh.
Only when our laughter fades do I realize how much I like talking to Nash, and how easy it is. From his smile, I hope he thinks the same about me.
“It’s late. We can go to sleep if you want. I promise not to hog all the sheets.”
“Do you want to sleep?”
His two-second pause is all the answer I need.
“Do you?” he asks instead of answering.
“No.”
His eyes drop to my mouth. “Talk?”
I swallow hard at the heat filling his gaze, so loud, he has to hear it.
“Byrdie?” he asks, voice husky, all while continuing to stare at my mouth as if imagining how my lips might feel under his. “Do you want to talk?”
Right. I’d forgotten there was a question I was supposed to answer.
“No.”
He dips his head, his touch light. When I shuffle closer to him, our bodies pressing together, he lets out a deeper groan and crushes me against him.
He breaks the kiss almost immediately. “Too fast?”
I yank him right back, and his lips slash up in a wicked smile. “Stop stopping and kiss me.”
His eyes sparkle with amusement at my commanding tone. His head descends, and pleasure bursts in my mind as his hand slips under my shirt to caress my right breast. I’m not wearing a bra, so there’s nothing between his firm, warm hand and my aching breast.
He takes his time with it. Cupping and massaging. Giving my nipple an almost too-tight squeeze, then pushing my shirt up. I start to make a sound of complaint and moan instead when his mouth settles over my breast.
I writhe and whimper, rocking against the thigh he inserts between my legs. Just when I can’t take anymore, he releases my nipple with a soft plop and moves to my left to drive me crazy all over again.
I never knew it could feel so good to have someone play with my nipples. Nash draws each second out, makes soft, hungry sounds of pleasure between licks and sucks.
An urgent ache builds inside me. Grinding my pussy against his thigh isn’t enough. I need more.
“Nash,” I whimper.
He starts kissing a path down my body.
I yank his hair to bring him up again.
The corners of his eyes crease in concern. “You don’t want me to—”
“I need you inside me,” I plead, nearly begging.
It’s his turn to swallow. Hard.
“I need to get you ready for me,” he says, voice husky.
I take his hand and slip it under the waistband of my PJs so he knows exactly how ready I am for him.
His nostrils flare, and I whimper as his fingers dip into my damp panties and along my pussy.
“Shit, you’re wet,” he says, breathing hard.
“Yeah,” I say. “Can we…”
“On it.” He pulls his hand out from inside my panties. Two seconds later, he’s wrestling his shirt and pants off, though he eases my PJs and my damp panties off with more care than he took with his clothes.
Naked, he drapes hot, lean-muscled skin over my overheated body. His breath hisses out at that first moment of skin-to-skin contact.
“You like me playing with your breasts,” he says softly.
Cheeks burning, I nod. “I didn’t know I would.”
A tiny smile tilts up one corner of his mouth, and he kisses me.
I’m kissing him back when he rolls us. I gasp and clutch his shoulders when he doesn’t stop until I’m on top.
“Straddle me,” he says so huskily that my pussy tightens in response.
I straddle him, looking at him to see what comes next.
His eyes sweep over my body, and he groans, “You’re so damn beautiful, Byrdie.”
“I’m really not,” I say.
“You absolutely are. And I intend to keep saying it, and showing you, until you believe it.” His hands slide up over my hips and caress my breasts.
My head tilts back. “That feels so good,” I moan.
“Then we’ll do it this way, so I can keep touching you.”
“Do what?”
With his hands on my ass, he nudges me back and onto him. My pussy sinks down over him.
All the breath leaves my body in a rush. The thoughts not centered right between my thighs empty right out of my head. All I do is feel each inch Nash works into me. He retreats, then thrusts again.
I don’t know when I started moving with him, but I push down as he thrusts up. His strong fingers never stop tweaking my nipples into hard points, his firm hands cupping me and making me feel so good.
The room is awash with the wet sounds of sex. He groans as he finds a new depth inside me. I moan and whimper as I slide up and down his cock.
“Nash…”
He picks up his pace at the neediness in my voice.
I ride him faster, twisting and bucking, gripping his wrists as I start to fall. My mind cascades, and I slip out of rhythm, biting my lip to silence my scream.
As I ripple around him, he rolls us, slides his hands under my knees, and pushes them wider apart as he pumps into me. Each hard pound drives me up the bed. I hold on to him, moaning and bucking as I climax again while he strains and half-collapses onto me.
He moves almost immediately. “Shit. I didn’t crush you, did I?”
Mind foggy with pleasure as his cock jerks inside me, I yawn and burrow closer. “No.”
He murmurs something in my ear that makes me smile. “I love you, too.”
Nash is smiling as he presses a kiss on the side of my neck and pulls the covers up over us both.
I never expected Nash to wake me with tickles.
He’s grinning down at me, naked and relaxed as I nearly roll right off the bed to escape fingers primed to find every ticklish spot on my body.
I stop laughing and yelp when I crack the back of my head against the headboard.
Nash stops tickling, immediately concerned. “Shit, are you okay?”
I start to respond while rubbing my head when a soft thump from behind me briefly silences me. “What was that?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says, and leans to the side. “Nothing on the floor. Whatever it is must be on your side.”
I lean down and spy something wedged at the back. “There’s something there.” I squint as I reach for it, struggling to make it out. “A book.”
I wiggle as I force it out through the narrow gap between the bed and the wall. I have a sneezing fit as I pass the book to Nash. “Here.”
He offers me a tissue from the bedside table and gives me a sympathetic smile, then his eyes drop to the book as I blow my runny nose.
He’s white.
I rub my red nose as I eye him curiously. “What is it?”
“We have to talk to the others.”