Page 75 of Protecting the Nerd

My breath hitched, surprise mingling with a sudden, sharp spike of excitement. The idea of York taking control, of reversing our usual roles, sent a thrill racing down my spine, even more because of those little slivers of dominance he’d shown over the last few minutes. I’d be in for a ride, and god, I wanted that. “I’d love that.”

“Do I need to be gentle?”

I loved that he asked. My mind created a mental picture of him pounding me, and I swallowed. “No. I’d love a hard dicking. It’s been a while. But go slow at first. You’ll feel when you can let go.”

A new current seemed to charge the room, thickening the air with anticipation. York traced down my chest, then lower, and I shuddered under the precision of his fingers.

“Tell me if I do anything you don’t like,” he murmured against my ear, his breath hot.

“Trust me, I will.” But the thought was absurd. I couldn’t imagine disliking anything he would do.

True to his nature, he went straight for the goal and grabbed the lube from the nightstand. His preparations were meticulous, showing his complete dedication, which was as sexy as it was adorable. He applied lube with a focus that was both clinical and sensual, his fingers probing gently as he ensured I was ready for him. My body cooperated, eager as it was to feel him inside me. The tenderness of his intimate touch belied the passion simmering beneath his composed exterior.

“Okay?” he asked when he’d managed to get three fingers in.

“More than okay,” I said, my voice ragged. The sensation was intense, bordering on overwhelming but grounded in the steadfast assurance that York was attuned to my every reaction. “I’m ready for you.”

He nodded. The sight of him so self-assured, so attentive and caring, amplified my desire. I loved seeing this side of him: satisfaction mingled with confidence.

With precise care, he aligned himself with me, his gaze never leaving mine. The initial push burned, an exquisite pressure that blossomed into an all-consuming heat. A groan escaped me, unbidden, but York stilled, his features etched with concern.

“Is this?—”

“Perfect.” I didn’t want him to mistake my vocal appreciation for discomfort. “Don’t stop.”

Reassured, he continued, his movements synchronized with my breaths, his rhythm steady and sure. The intensity in his gaze—a fusion of concentration and passion—anchored me. The role reversal felt so natural, as if we’d both been waiting for this moment, for both of us to be ready for this.

“Quill,” he moaned, and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. “Fuck, this feels amazing. You feel… You’re so tight and hot. I need to…”

“Go. I need you.”

He bent over and snapped his hips, his thrusts gaining momentum, each one driving deeper than the last until I was lost in the sensation, in the profound intimacy of the moment. His name became a mantra on my lips, each utterance punctuated by the slap of skin against skin echoing in the room alongside our ragged breaths.

What was that saying? Still waters run deep. Did that ever apply to York Coombe. Behind that introverted, nerdy exterior hid one hell of a sexy beast. The man fucked like a god. Seriously, it was the single best fuck I’d ever had, and not merely because I loved him and felt close to him on more than a physical level.

He pressed me into the mattress, pinning my head down with his left hand as he speared into me, stretching me to the fullest. And he jackhammered into me, not slowing down, not being careful, not asking if I was okay. He went all out, full out, and all I could do was hang on.

Fisting the sheets with both hands, I let out a constant stream of moans and grunts as his cock split me wide open, sinking deeper inside me than I had thought possible. Every time, he hit all the right spots, hence the endless sounds. I found it impossible to stay still when being fucked so expertly. The man was a natural.

I wouldn’t be surprised if I was drooling. Not that I cared. Nothing else mattered except him and me. His hands on me. His body against mine. His cock inside me.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and how could I not? His eyes were alight with power and pleasure, and all traces of the introverted thinker who agonized over unsolvable equations had dissipated, leaving only York, raw and open, claiming me as I had claimed him countless times before.

My body hurtled toward its release, even without touching my cock. I didn’t need to, not when he kept hammering me like this. Jesus, everything was on fire. My ass. My balls. My cock. Even my fingertips tingled as if I’d been shocked by an electric current.

“I can’t…” York grunted. “I’m too…”

“Let go. Let me see you take your pleasure.”

He threw his head back and roared. My quiet, introverted nerdy made the most animalistic sound I’d ever heard a man make as his body shook and shivered. My eyes were glued to his face, to the whirlwind of emotions flickering there. Passion bordering on desperation, determination, and then pure bliss. His cock spurted out its load, and I moaned at the sensation of his hot cum inside me. It felt so, so good. Another thing that connected us body, mind, and soul.

He collapsed on top of me, muttering an excuse, but I smiled as I held him. I had every intention of chasing my release once he was recovered, but even if I didn’t find it, this would still be about as perfect as sex could get. “I love you, nerdy,” I whispered. “And you fuck like a god. You can top me anytime.”

25

YORK

I’d always looked at those self-proclaimed alpha males with derision. The whole concept of deriving value from certain characteristics perceived as übermale as opposed to more feminine traits was laughable. Plus, most of the time, an attitude like that went hand in hand with considerable misogyny. If you asked me, women were the much stronger sex. If men had to endure what women did to have kids, the world would depopulate in no time.

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