Page 68 of Taken

Fuck.

We could never go this long without properly fucking ever again.

By the time I got the bare minimum of my senses back, it was already too late. My cock was exploding between us, trails of my come decorating Nicholas’ very nice suit.

“Oh, my God… I’m sorry…” I whimpered at the sight of it, one of my hands reaching out to touch the fabric between us. “We should get some vinegar on it or something before it sets?—”

“I couldn’t care less about that right now, sweetheart,” Nicholas growled in return. “I’m a little preoccupied with something else.”

I opened my mouth to let Nicholas know that I was dead serious about the vinegar and how important it was going to be to get something on the stain sooner rather than later?—

But anything I was going to say was cut off by Nicholas’ mouth crashing against mine. He sped up his rhythm inside, moving even faster than before, the thrusts now creating a thumping sound against the wall. I held onto him tight as he claimed me, the telltale signs of his possessive streak shining right through his every move.

“I’m yours, Nicholas,” I whispered close to his ear. “I’m all yours…”

“Mine… You’re all mine…” Nicholas groaned before he went still in front of me, his head buried deep against my neck. “Fuck, Parker…”

I waited a few moments as he caught his breath, his chest rising uneven and ragged. When it seemed like his breathing was back to its normal pace, I whispered close to his ear yet again.

“We really should do something about that suit.”

“What is up with you and this suit?” Nicholas chuckled, seemingly amused. “Wait. Is this the only reason you wanted me to fuck you tonight? Because you wanted me to fuck you in this suit?”

“No,” I admitted, with a grin. “But it was a nice touch. And the only reason I’m so obsessed with this suit is because of how good you look in it.”

“Fine. I’ll go get the vinegar.” Nicholas playfully rolled his eyes. “But not before I take you to bed.”

“Yes, please.” I nodded, just as Nicholas wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into his arms for the second time that night. A few moments later and we were in the bedroom, with Nicholas gingerly setting me down against the bed sheets. He got to work pulling off the rest of my clothes, not stopping until he’d finally slipped a pair of fresh boxers over my hips, my worn clothes tucked away in a laundry basket.

“Shower in the morning?” he asked, pressing a kiss against my cheek.

“Shower in the morning.” I nodded, already half-closing my eyes, my body suddenly tired from all the exercise Nicholas and I had just participated in. “I love you, by the way. Just saying it for the millionth time. Just so you’re sure.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Nicholas kissed me on the cheek again before he disappeared down the hall, hopefully on his way to find something to clean that stain off his very, very nice suit.

I was sitting in the exam room, waiting for the doctor to come in. Nicholas was right beside me, seated in a guest chair, flipping through a magazine he’d borrowed from the waiting room. I was anxious beyond belief, nervous that the doctor was going to tell me that I’d somehow fucked up my own recovery, that the leg he’d initially thought was going to heal fine was now irreparably damaged beyond repair.

“Anything good in that magazine?” I asked, trying my best to quell the tension building up inside my head.

“Nothing worth noting,” Nicholas replied. “Mostly celebrity fluff.”

“I’m surprised you picked it up, then. You’re not really a celebrity fluff kind of guy.”

“There’s some current world affairs stuff in here, too. Just not a lot of it.”

“Do you think everything’s going to be okay?” I murmured through the topic change, trying to keep my tone light even though things just felt so dark.

“With the world? Probably not,” Nicholas answered, before he looked up from his magazine. “With your leg? Yes. And with us? Absolutely.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am.” Nicholas shrugged, a smile spreading across his features. “I just know it.”

Just then, the doctor stepped into the room. He looked between Nicholas and me before offering up a smile of his own. “Good morning, Parker. Nicholas.”

“Good morning, Dr. Washington,” Nicholas and I spoke our greeting in unison.

“Parker, how’s your leg been doing?” he asked, before he took a seat in a nearby chair with wheels, sliding himself over to me. “Any issues? Any pain?”

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