“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Home.” I wasn’t home, I was at his place, and I just wanted to get out of it.
“Oh, no. I’m not letting you out of my sight, drunkie.” He pulled me away from the door, making sure I couldn’t leave. My eyes roamed around while we moved through his condo and I was astonished. It looked nothing like what I thought it would. I expected lavish furniture and decorations due to the price tag on his place, but there was little of either. The walls were bare, and the furniture was sparse.
We entered the bedroom and he sat me on the bed before kneeling in front of me and proceeding to take off my boots.
My fingers brushed through his hair. “So silky,” I murmured.
He leaned into my touch for a brief moment, then swiftly moved out of my reach. He grabbed my waist and lifted me to where I was bending over his shoulder. His fingers found the zipper to my skirt and slid it off me, tossing it somewhere on the floor of the dark room.
“You do know I’m not so drunk that I can’t walk or undress myself, right?”
“Shut up and get in the bed, Delilah,” he commanded.
Was it wrong that I loved when he directed me like that?
I obliged and snuggled under the covers. They smelled of him, and I found a new happy place, wrapped around the musky and spicy scent that was Nathan. I was sure my therapist would like that. He never felt my happy place was happy enough.
I woke a few hours later wrapped up in Nathan’s arms. It was warm and inviting and I wanted it. I wanted him. Could I do it? Could I show him it was okay to love? Maybe it was best to go with the flow. Maybe we could both heal. What would Dr. Morgenson say? Shit, I needed to see him again; it’d been too long, several months.
I turned my head to look at him, taking in how peaceful his face was when he was asleep. I sighed as I moved to sit up; I needed to go home. It was too intoxicating being so close to him. I was drowning in Nathan.
“No,” he mumbled. “Stay.”
His arms pulled me back into his body, lips kissing my shoulder, nipping the skin beneath as his fingers flexed around my waist. His tongue slid out, tasting my skin, his hand moving down my stomach and teasing the skin at the top of my panties. He slid beneath the fabric and two of his fingers found my opening, pushing deep inside.
I cried out at the intrusion, one I’d been aching for. “Fuck!”
His hips rocked against my ass, his hard length pressing into me. “Mmm, your * gets so fucking wet for me. Do you get this wet for other cocks, or just mine? Hmm?”
My body arched under his assault. His other hand moved to pinch my nipples. I couldn’t stop the rocking of my hips, pushing farther down on his hand. I needed him deeper. “Nate… mmm, only you.”
“Good girl,” he said. “Or should I say naughty? Only naughty girls get this fucking soaked. Listen to you moaning like a whore. You love my fingers buried inside you, don’t you? Not as much as you love my cock filling you to the hilt though.” His whispers were gruff and needy.
“Fuck no. You...oh God…filling me with your…fuck...” I moaned, barely able to keep myself from screaming incoherent sounds at his onslaught of my *. “Cock! Please!”
His body left mine, his hand turning me onto my back as he slipped between my thighs. His clothed cock nestled against my wet center, while his lips found mine for a searing kiss.
“This what you want? Right here?” He accentuated his words with a thrust of his hips, hitting my clit just right, making me scream out.
“Yes, yes, please.” I really was a slut for him, but only for him. He pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it on the floor, my bra following.