Page 19 of Nathan

“Touch me.” He guides my hand to his erection, a low moan falling from his lips as my tentative fingers wrap around him. With Nate guiding the pace and pressure, I rub him through his underwear, but it isn’t enough.

I roll onto my side, and with my free hand, tug down his boxers. I take him in my hand, flying solo this time. Nate braces both hands behind his head, his eyes falling closed.

“Yeah, oh, yeah. Harder, Titch. Grip me harder.”

I do as he asks, but when I look down at that blunt head, the skin pulled tight, his slit weeping, an overwhelming urge to taste him hits me. I’ve never gone down on a guy. I don’t even know what I’m doing. All I know is that, with every fiber of my body, I want him in my mouth.

I bend my head and, flattening my tongue, lick the head. His cock jerks, and he rewards me with a loud hiss, followed by, “God, yeah. Just like that, baby.”

I draw him into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks as I suck. I can’t take all of him, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Nate. He threads his fingers through my hair, holding me steady, controlling the angle and the pace but, I notice, careful not to push me harder than I’m ready for.

His grunts and groans become louder, and his breathing shallows as he moves his hips. My excitement builds. It hadn’t occurred to me how pleasurable it is to give pleasure to someone else. Did it feel like this for him when he made me come? I hope so because it’s incredible. I’m doing this. I’m making him moan, writhe, and mutter incoherent words. I’m making his skin flush, and his body sweat. It’s intoxicating.

“Jesus,” he hisses, flipping me onto my back. His knees part my thighs, his enormous erection jutting from between his hips.

Nate reaches into the nightstand drawer and grabs a condom before rolling it onto himself with the practiced ease of someone who’s done it a million times before. I try not to think too hard about how many women Nate has done this with. It’ll take away a piece of the magic.

“This might sting a bit.” He guides the tip to my entrance. “Try to relax for me.”

He shoves forward with one forceful thrust, and my breath leaves my lungs on a gasp. My muscles contract. It burns. God, it burns.

“You weren’t… kidding,” I pant.

He chuckles and rests his forearms on either side of my head. “Wrap your legs around my waist, Titch. I’m gonna move.”

He wasn’t kidding about that, either. He pounds into me, and what began as pain evolves into a pleasure so intense, I think I might lose my mind from sheer hedonism. The beginnings of a deep ache grow in my core, as addictive as any drug. Nate looks down at me, his face flushed and dark eyelashes gracing his cheeks every time he blinks, momentarily hiding those stunning blue irises. My stomach tightens. Dear God, he’s so beautiful that, for a moment, the sight of him brings a rush of hot tears to my eyes.

He reaches between our damp bodies and flicks my clit, and still he pummels my insides. The tip of his cock and the angle of his hips make sure he’s on target to hit that deep spot within me every single time.

I get no warning of my orgasm. I shatter, my muscles rippling and my clit burning as Nate pinches the knot of nerves tightly between his thumb and finger.

His head falls to my shoulder, and after a couple more thrusts, he stills, mumbling words into my neck, unfathomable, yet raw enough that I understand, because I feel the same way. I can’t describe what he’s done to me, but I know I’ll never be the same again.

He rolls to the side, and I squeeze my eyes closed. I don’t know why my emotions are so close to the surface, but having sex with Nate has wrung me out, as well as gnarled and tangled my insides as if he’s torn me apart then put me back together different than I was before, yet somehow a better version of myself.

He sits up and removes the condom. Tying a knot in the end, he drops it beside the bed. For some reason, it makes me chuckle. When he frowns, I laugh harder. I feel free, as if a great weight has lifted from my shoulders.

“What’s so funny, Titch?” he asks, his lips curving upward, even though confusion swims in his eyes.

“Aren’t you going to put that in the trash?” Still giggling like a thirteen-year-old watching my first porn movie with my friends, knowing I’m doing something bad, I ask, “And are you ever going to tell me why you call me ‘Titch’?”

Nate tucks me into his side and pulls a throw over our naked bodies. “Titch is British slang for someone small in stature. Fits you perfectly.”

I’m stunned, not because of the explanation, but from the realization that Nate O’Reilly has given me a nickname.

“And,” he continues, “as there’ll be a few more condoms joining that one tonight, I’ll clear up once we’re finished.”

His meaning isn’t lost on me. I tilt my head back and look at him with wide eyes and a slack mouth. Nate grins, then drops a quick kiss on my forehead.

“I wouldn’t keep that gorgeous mouth of yours hanging open too long, Titch, otherwise I’ll be tempted to put something in it.”

His crudeness stuns me into silence, but as my gaze meets his twinkling eyes, I laugh again, until Nate silences me with a toe-curling kiss.

It’s going to be a long night, and quite possibly the most exciting one of my life.

Chapter 8

Nate

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