Chapter 31
Thirty-one
Corey
Nancy is tucked up in the cushion pile, exhausted after a long morning on the beach and an attempt to defy her tiredness this afternoon by helping me organise my art supplies in the studio.
I still can’t believe Nash created this space for me, a permanent place to create, be inspired, and spend time with Nancy.
I know that if I’m to have a future with Nash, that means a future with Nancy as well, and having a space that’s just ours to share an activity we both enjoy and have found incredibly helpful in our individual therapy journeys as well… It means everything.
I can vividly imagine ten, fifteen years down the line, reminiscing with a teenage Nancy about the times we’ve spent here creating art in this space together. It’s a vision I want for myself, for all of us. A family all our own, filled with unconditional support and love.
The sun is dipping in the sky, the long summer days getting marginally shorter as we move ever closer to Autumn. I feel the air chill ever so slightly as a cloud covers the sun, and I grab a blanket, tucking it over Nancy so she doesn’t get cold while she sleeps.
I turn back to my canvas, picking up the brush and palette I was using, and add some tourmaline to the sky.
It’s an abstract piece of three horizontal sections all blending into one another, a representation of the joy I’ve been filled with today.
The pale pink colour complements the soft peaches and oranges of the sun-drenched sky, the sand and dunes a swathe of gold in the foreground, and a band of deep blue represents the sea, a tumultuous layering of ocean and lapis, slate and peacock, with highlights of the brightest teal.
I step back to take it in, and movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I turn to see Nash leaning against the door-jamb, a soft, almost indulgent smile on his face.
“Hi,” I whisper, putting my finger to my lips, then nodding at where Nancy is still fast asleep.
He doesn’t say a word, just walks over to me, cups my face in both hands, and kisses me. As they always do, his kisses melt me from the inside out, and I blindly place my brush and palette behind me on the drafting table.
When my hands are free, I wipe them clumsily on my jeans before threading them up into Nash’s hair. He groans quietly when I scratch his scalp lightly, before pulling away.
“I’ll carry her inside. It’s time for dinner,” he says, with a peck on my nose. “You too.” He calls that last over his shoulder as he carefully navigates the steps to the orangery studio.
I can’t help but smile at his assumption that I’ll be staying for dinner.
I need to go home tomorrow. I promised Emma we’d have breakfast in the café before she starts her first day with Nash and Nancy.
But when I called her earlier, she told me to ‘fill my boots’.
So classy, that one. And fuck, I love her for it.
I’d been over here feeling bad that she’d be on her own, trying to adapt to a new place and new people, but oh no.
She informed me that she and Wren had a whale of a time last night, and this morning over coffee, she’d been invited to join a book club by Gloria, whoever that is, and had been asked out on a date.
She did admit that her would-be suitor was an octogenarian, but hey, she’s settling in just fine and is loving the quiet life already.
She’s also really excited about working with Nancy.
I think she’d missed working with kids more than she realised until she met Nancy, and the little girl has sparked her love for education once more.
In fact, one of Emma’s moving boxes had been full of educational materials that she’d collected before we moved.
I clean my brushes and palette before locking the door and heading inside. It smells out of this world. The sweet, spicy scents of star anise, cinnamon, cloves, chili pepper, and fennel hang fragrant in the air as Nash serves three plates of stir-fry vegetables and noodles with glazed salmon.
“Mmm, smells delicious,” I say as I move into the kitchen.
“Its amazing what I can do in the kitchen when a certain someone is occupied elsewhere.” I chuckle, knowing full well that he wouldn’t sacrifice time with Nancy for anything, especially something as mundane as cooking.
Although admittedly, this meal looks anything but mundane.
“Where is she?” I ask, looking around for Nancy.
“She’s washing her hands upstairs. You hungry?”
“Starving,” I admit, my stomach growling loudly as though my words invited its interruption. “Shall I set the table?” I ask.
“Please, baby. But first, come ’ere.” He inclines his head at me, and I’m powerless to resist. Crossing the space, I round the island until I’m standing right in front of him. “Hi,” he says softly.
“Hi,” I reply. He leans down and kisses me. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him, parting my lips with his tongue and my legs with his thigh. Fuck, he needs to stop.
“Not in the kitchen, Daddy. That’s honeygenic.” Nancy’s sharp reprimand shocks us both and we jump apart to find the three and a half feet tall supreme leader of the fun police standing there with her hands on her hips.
“Sorry, poppet. You’re right.”
“You can kiss Bunny later. I’m hungry. Is dinner ready, please?”
I vaguely hear Nash mumble, “Where does she even get half this shit,” before he chases us over to the table.
And so, we eat.
When Nancy is tucked up in bed a few hours later, Nash wastes no time in leading me upstairs once the kitchen is clean and all the dishes are in the dishwasher.
The whole house is spic and span. He said he wanted to make a good impression on Emma, so while I’d been painting with Nancy, he’d been cleaning and tidying.
I had to point out that these types of things were exactly what Emma was there to help him with, but he just looked at me questioningly.
I decided not to pull at that particular thread.
As soon as his bedroom door is closed and locked behind us, we crash together, kissing each other with a passion so powerful, I wonder how I ever survived without him. His thick tongue dominates mine, and I grip onto his shoulders as he picks me up and carries me to the bed.
He lays me down reverently, blanketing my body with his until I’m completely surrounded by him. He kisses my lips, my chin, my jaw, then pulls back and gazes down into my eyes.
“I’ve loved today. And yesterday. Having you here, in my life every day, in my home, it’s incredible.
Part of me wondered if we’d ever get here,” he says, his eyes looking away until I cup his cheek with my hand.
He smiles, then turns his face and kisses my palm.
He looks back to me, my fingers gently stroking his face.
“The truth is, I’m so fucking in love with you, baby, that I don’t ever want to be without you again.
If we could live in a little bubble, just the three of us, I think I’d be the happiest man on earth. ”
“I love you too, babe. The way you gave me the space to do what I needed to do to feel safe and to heal meant so much to me. But I never once felt like I was alone. You were there for me every step of the way, and now I get to live the future I want, the life I want… with you.”
He kisses me again, and it quickly becomes heated.
“But for now,” I say, breathlessly, quietly, “I need you to fill me up with that fat cock of yours and fuck me into this mattress.”
“You want me to fuck you, little rabbit?” Nash asks, even though there isn’t a hint of question in his tone. I nod and whine as he grinds back against me, pressing me deliciously into the mattress, his weight above me so all-encompassing I feel like I could crawl inside him and stay there forever.
He pulls away and hastily removes his clothes before stripping me of mine.
When we’re both naked, he looks down at me, stroking myself as I watch him.
I take in his whole body, my eyes taking in his thicker frame, the coarse hair that coats his chest and stomach, a darker trail leading down from his belly button before thickening at the base of his impressive shaft.
I lick my lips at the sight of his hard cock, standing at attention and glistening at the tip, my tastebuds hungry for his flavour. He lifts just one eyebrow at me in question. I don’t hesitate.
“Yes, please,” I whine, and without giving me time to second-guess anything, Nash is right there, stuffing his hard dick right down my throat. My eyes water as I adjust to the delicious fullness, and the feral sound he makes as he starts to slowly pump in and out has my own dick leaking furiously.
“Fuck, baby. You take my dick so well, don’t you,” he growls.
I nod around his length, my hum of ascent muffled by his thick cock in my mouth.
I open my mouth wider and grip the backs of his thighs, encouraging him to push even deeper into my throat.
When he does, bracing himself against the headboard, I hold him there, wanting nothing more than for him to stay there until he decides I can breathe.
A rush of adrenaline floods my system as I realise this is the first time I’ve felt comfortable enough to truly let myself go and ask the man I’m with, albeit with actions, not words, to take control and make the decisions about what we’re going to do. About what I need, or what I can have.
The last few months have given me the space to not only deal with the past but also to acknowledge the things I crave from a sexual or romantic partner.
Giving up control, taking instructions, and being manhandled a little bit is a complete release for me, an opportunity to shed the weight of my history and just let myself be, completely free in the moment with my partner.
It was the slippery slope that led to the toxic situation I was in with Dominic.