Chapter Sixteen #2
“Goddamn, Bay,” he murmured in her ear, tightening his arm around her torso when she jerked. “You’re fucking soaked.”
“I told you.” Her voice was strangled, her fingers like claws through his shorts when they reached back to latch onto his thighs.
He slid his hand lower, bypassing her clit to the soft opening below. He stroked a fingertip over it, barely nudging inside, and felt it flutter in response. “Have you been like this all week?”
“Yes.” Her hips pushed forward, trying to hump his hand. “Nash, please.”
“And you haven’t come at all?”
She let out a whine, desperate and needy. “Does it seem like I have?”
He laughed, low and triumphant and full of wonder. He was amazed, awed. Humbled. “No, it sure doesn’t.”
“Nash.” Her hips were undulating now, desperate for the deeper contact that would bring relief. “Please. You promised.”
“So I did. Okay, Bailey. I’m going to give you what you need.”
He pulled his hand free and gripped her waist, ignoring her wail of protest. Shifting his stance, he planted his other hand between her shoulder blades and pushed.
She pitched forward with a squeak, hands flying forward to catch herself on the mattress.
“All the way down,” he ordered, increasing the pressure of his hand on her back, and after a heartbeat she obeyed, arms collapsing under her so she lay face down on the bed, torso flat to the mattress with her feet on the floor and her ass in the air.
“Good girl,” he said and gave her upturned ass an approving pat.
“Stop calling me that,” she muttered into the duvet and twisted her head to glare at him through a curtain of wet hair. “It’s weird.”
“But you are a good girl,” he said with a chuckle, and gave her ass a second, much firmer pat.
“Are you spanking me?” she wondered.
“Do you want me to?”
“I want you to make me come,” she replied tartly.
“Well, then, spread ’em,” he shot back.
She immediately stepped her feet apart, spreading her thighs wide, and he hummed in approval. “And you say you’re not a good girl.”
She dropped her face to the mattress and let out a muffled scream. “Nash!”
Laughing, he squatted behind her, grabbed her ass, and used his thumbs to spread her pussy wide. She was dripping wet, bright pink, and so goddamn pretty he had to work to keep his voice cheerful. “All right, enough foreplay.”
“Thank fu— Oh!”
Nash didn’t answer, since his tongue was buried deep in her needy little hole. He fucked it once, twice, then pulled back to smack his lips. “That what you wanted?”
“Yes,” she panted, her ass jerking in his grip as she pushed back, seeking his tongue. “More, please.”
“My pleasure, baby,” he purred and went to work.
He knew if he aimed for her clit she’d go off like a rocket, so he kept his tongue in her cunt, stroking and stabbing and sucking up the juices that poured out of her like water from a faucet.
He sucked on her plump labia, nibbled around the delicate edges of her fluttering hole, even swept his tongue up to poke at the puckered star of her anus.
She almost came when he did that, shuddering and shaking and crying into the duvet, so he backed off, sinking his teeth into the plump curve of her ass and biting down with barely restrained savagery.
His dick was so hard his loose cotton shorts felt like a prison, and he almost reached down to free it.
But he knew if he did that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from fucking her, and that wasn’t the plan.
“I hate you,” she sobbed, dragging his thoughts away from his dick.
“Poor baby,” he crooned, eyeing the bruises he’d left in her soft flesh. The dark pleasure he felt at having marked her didn’t shock him, but the faint disappointment that he hadn’t done it hard enough to make her bleed did. “You need to come so badly, don’t you?”
She grunted, and he felt the bed shift, saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He moved fast, catching her hand before she managed to snake it between her legs. “Bad girl.” He grabbed her other hand for good measure. “Do you want to come, or not?”
She thrashed, yanking at her hands. “Yes, dammit!”
“Then wait for it,” he ordered, and since he couldn’t spank her with his hands full, bit her other cheek.
“Bastard,” she hissed and tried to kick him in the nuts.
She missed, catching him on the shin, and he laughed in pure delight. “Keep it up and you won’t get to come until midnight,” he warned.
She sagged on the bed, her breath sobbing out. “Nash, please. I’m dying.”
“No, you’re not.” He gave her pussy one delicate, consoling lick, luxuriating in her answering shivers. “It just feels like you are.”
“What do I have to do?” she asked. All but begged. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
“You don’t have to do anything, Bailey,” he assured her.
He nuzzled her cunt, drinking in her scent, absorbing her shudders.
God, she made him giddy with lust, dizzy with need.
He’d lost all track of time, and had no idea how long it had been since he’d spoken to Sawyer—or how much longer he needed to hold out. “All you’ve ever had to do was be you.”
“Then please, Nash.” He could hear the tears in her voice, frustration and eagerness and need. “Please, make me come.”
He couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t make her wait any longer. Couldn’t make himself wait. He gave her hands a squeeze, then put them back on the mattress. “I’ve got you, baby. Hold on, okay? Hold on.”
She curled her fingers into the duvet, knuckles going white. “Please. Please.”
“I’ve got you,” he said again. He put his hands back on her thighs, spreading her wide once again. But this time he twined his thumbs together, laid them against her gently pulsating opening, and pushed inside.
She groaned, long and low, that delicate inner sheath clamping down on his thumbs.
He didn’t give her time to adjust, didn’t wait for her body to calm, but started fucking her with them, pumping in short, firm thrusts that stroked the nerve-rich opening with nearly continuous friction at the same time that he dipped low, angled his head, and licked her clit.
She went off like a rocket.
Shaking, crying, her pussy grabbing at his fingers and her clit pulsing on his tongue, it went on and on.
He worked her clit until his jaw went stiff and his tongue went numb, drawing out every last twist and twinge of pleasure that he could.
And when she finally lay quiet and the shudders and shivers had stopped, he slipped his thumbs from her body, pulled his head out from under her and stood.
Bailey knew she wasn’t dead. Her heart was beating extremely fast, and she was sweating a lot and breathing hard, so she was definitely not dead. And it felt really, really fucking good.
She was dimly aware of Nash lifting her, placing her on the bed, but she didn’t bother to open her eyes. She was still enjoying the aftermath of her not-death, and he didn’t seem to need her help, anyway.
But then he kissed her, and he tasted like Nash and her pussy, and that made her want to get not-dead again, so she opened her eyes.
He looked happy and horny, and since she was happy and horny too, she grinned up at him. “Hi.”
“Hi. Feeling better?”
“Mmm, much.” She wanted to stretch so she did, feeling all her marvelously loose muscles loosen even more, pleasure still humming. Her pussy felt so good, happy and satisfied but still empty, but oh, they were going to fix that. Yes, they were. “I’m mad at you.”
He quirked one eyebrow, clearly not too worried about it. “Are you?”
She worked up a pout. It was hard, because she felt so damn good, but she was not a woman to back down from a challenge. “You took so long to make me come.”
He just chuckled, the bastard, and reached down to give her pussy a loving stroke. “But was it worth it?”
She spread her legs so he could stroke her better. “Maybe. You might have to do it again so I can make sure.”
“Funny you should say that…”
“Hmm?” she said, distracted by the stroking. No, she wasn’t done…
“I did something,” he said, and his tone snagged her attention.
Though his fingers continued to stroke and play with her pussy, his expression was serious, his eyes intense.
She struggled to focus on his face instead of his hand. “What thing did you do?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but a noise from the living—the trio of beeps that signaled the front door lock releasing—room had her whipping her head around.
She couldn’t see it through Nash’s open bedroom door, but that was definitely the sound of the front door opening and closing. And that was more than one person walking into her house.
She started to leap up in alarm, mouth open to scream. But Nash’s hand, wet from her pussy, slapped over her mouth to hold her down.
“I moved up the gang bang,” he whispered, shoving his face close to hers. “Since you seemed to not want to wait.”
Oh. Nonplussed, she blinked up at him over his restraining hand. Outside the bedroom, the footsteps were getting louder.
“Want me to call it off?” he asked softly. The footsteps paused, then resumed, getting louder as she lay there, trapped by Nash’s hand that smelled like her cunt, caught in his wicked, wanton gaze. “Or do you wanna get used like a filthy slut?”
Heat flooded through her at the thought, empty pussy giving a desperate clench. There was only one answer, and he read it in her eyes before she nodded her head.
“That’s my bad girl,” he whispered, then he was kissing her, hard and deep, and when he stopped, they weren’t alone anymore.