“Wouldn’t you rather wait until you feel better?”
“I thought of you when I got my new boobs,” I murmured. “I wanted you to be the first to touch them. No one else.”
Nick’s expression shifted into one of possession. I’d never seen him look so primal and my body responded with more need.
“Another guy would be better for you,” he said in a hard voice. “He could give you what I can’t, but I don’t care. I see you and know you belong with me. I’ve always known. I think you’ve known too.”
“Yes,” I whispered, no longer teasing. “No one else makes me feel like you do.”
“Because you’re mine.”
Nick’s battered hands slid over my breasts and squeezed gently. Heat rushed straight between my legs, causing me to squirm. My already hard nipples thickened between his teasing fingers.
His gaze met mine and I saw something beyond lust. Fear maybe.
“I can’t fuck you,” he whispered roughly. “Not tonight. Not in the way you want.”
My heart hurt at his distance. I wanted our feelings to overcome whatever childhood pains he suffered. Knowing love didn’t magically fix anything, I forced my feelings aside.
“You don’t want me to touch you. Touching me is okay though, right?”
Nick responded by tugging gently at my nipples. Groaning, I smiled at him as my hand moved past my night shorts.
“You can make me feel good,” I sighed. “Serve me, Nick.”
His smile spread as his lips met mine. I kissed him hard, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other teased between my legs. Nick’s lips left mine then sucked at my throat, shoulders, and between my breasts, leaving wet kisses behind. Sighing, I leaned back and waited with hungry anticipation as his tongue christened my right nipple.
Kneeling next to the couch, Nick propped himself over me as he lathered my tits with the kind of affection a girl could get addicted to. I watched him through half open eyes while my hand stroked my clit softly.
Unlike every guy before him, Nick wasn’t throwing in a little foreplay before his big move. Instead, he explored. Nick claimed me, making my body submit to his touch.
Time became fluid. I saw nothing beyond Nick teasing my overheated flesh. How many orgasms did I enjoy without him ever entering me? When his teeth teased my nipple, I lost control and nearly ripped his clothes off. Reaching for him, I was startled by how effortlessly he pinned my arms over my head while his free hand slid into my shorts and returned me to bliss.
Nick’s name echoed in the apartment as I cried it again and again.
“Please,” I whimpered, “I want you inside me.”
Nick didn’t respond with words. He just smiled then sucked on the fingers he used to making me come.
“You’re not ready,” I mumbled, exhausted by so much pleasure. “I can wait as long as you do that a lot.”
A smile on his lips, Nick kissed me. “You never let go. Do you know that about yourself?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, trying to sound indignant, but he was teasing my nipples and I really didn’t care about anything else.
Nick’s gaze was soft as he explored me leisurely. “You can’t see it, I guess. You’re on guard though. Even when you’re coming, you don’t really let go. I don’t think you trust me.”
“Do you trust me?”
Nick shook his head, tugging at my nipple. “Not because of you. I don’t trust you because I don’t trust anyone. Not even me. Do you trust people?”
“I guess.”
“Maybe you just don’t trust men,” he murmured.
“You’re not men.”
Nick grinned. “No, I’m not.”
“Want to play in my bed where we can stretch out and my mom won’t walk in on us?”
Saying nothing, Nick stood in an easy movement and lifted me to my feet. I wrapped my arms around his neck and climbed him, feeling how much he wanted to be inside me. Despite his plans to keep his clothes on, I figured the night was still young.
Chapter Sixteen ~ Nick
Thunderstorms always returned me to the closet in the dirty trailer. Knees against my chest, I would hide my face and pray for the noise to stop. As a boy, I cried from how loud everything echoed in the closet. As I got older, I controlled my tears, yet clenched my jaw so tightly I often hurt for days afterwards.
Even after leaving the trailer and moving to Ellsberg, I struggled for control when thunderstorms rolled through. In class once, I spent an hour digging a pen into my hand to distract from the crack of lightning and crash of thunder.
Sitting in Bailey’s apartment, I heard the approaching storm and knew I should leave. Yet the moment I glanced at the door to make my escape, Bailey’s expression changed.
“You want to leave?”
“I should probably head out.”
“Mom’s bringing food.”
“A storm is coming. I better head out.”