Page 22 of Spicy Nick

“Oh, Nick.” She sat up and stared at me. “You are my family! You’re the most important person in the world to me.”

“I know,” I told her as I pulled her down to lie against me. And I did. I knew it beyond all doubt. How had I lost the certainty I’d felt as I’d assured her, “You’re my most important person, too.”

Six

“You know me,” I remind her again as the kiss ends. “All the important parts, the things that matter, I’ve never hidden any of that from you.” I probably couldn’t have, if I’d tried. “And that goes both ways, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, framing my face with one soft hand, gazing back at me, honest and true. Same asshe’dalways been—with me. Vulnerable. Open. Mine. Because like will always call to like. And, in our souls, we’d recognized each other from the start.

I tighten my grip. Using my fist, which is once again twisted in her hair, I urge her head back. “I want you,” I murmur, brooking no argument, trailing kisses down her neck. “I want younow.”

“Now?” she protests, “But Nick… We have so much work to do.”

“Right here, right now. The rest can wait. This can’t.Ican’t.”

“Mm,” she moans, her resolve weakening—predictably—as I reach that place that always makes her shiver. Because, like I said, there are some things that I know, too.

“Right now,” I say again, using a hint of teeth, letting my need show in the roughness of my voice. “On this couch you like so much.”

“Pretty sure you like it too,” she says.

“I do. I love it—when you’re on it. And when you’re on itwith me? I never want to move from it.”

A strangled sob leaves her lips. I raise my head to meet her gaze. “Take your clothes off,” she orders, need blazing in her eyes. “I want you, too.”

I rush to comply, pulling my shirt over my head and off. Then I hook my fingers in the waistband of her leggings, snagging her panties too, and tugging them down her legs. She lifts her hips to help me, and I whip the pants off and toss them to the floor.

Tantalized by the sight of her, rose and gold in the firelight, I glide my hands back up her legs. They fall open for me, but not enough. So I use my hands to spread them open more. My thumbs nudge against her outer folds, parting them as well. Then I swipe one thumb across her clit, a ghost of a touch, a mere whisper, a suggestion of what’s to come.

She gasps, a shuddery huff of surprise that takes me by surprise as well. “Nick!”

I glance up to see that her eyes are wide and startled. “Too soon?”

She shakes her head—slowly, as though she’s puzzling something out. “N-no, that’s not… I think it’s the ginger. Or the mint, perhaps? But…”

The ginger…? Oh! I lick my thumb and taste…a hint of her, a trace of salt, a tingle of— “Ginger. Definitely. Sorry. I should probably wash my hands.”

“Mm.” The faintest of blushes appears. Her eyes hold mine as she settles deeper into the cushions and suggests, “Or maybe you shouldn’t?”

My eyebrows lift. And perhaps, after all, she had a point before. Perhaps, as well as you think you know someone, there’s always more to learn.

I reach for the closest drink, extract one of those sticks I’d so carefully sliced and shaped. I suck one end into my mouth, relishing the heat, running the fingers of both hands along its length; then I drop it back to the table, and turn again to my wife.

“Omigod.” A quick inhale greets the first flick of my tongue. Then, “Ni-i-i-ick!” my name emerges several syllables long as I settle in for a lengthy stay. My tongue laps over her, spears into her, spreading heat and stoking fires as my fingers tease between her legs.

She writhes beneath me, panting breathlessly as my fingers slide through wetness. Then I let them glide lower, circling her backdoor, earning myself another gasp of surprise, a muffled curse, and even more syllables stretching my name beyond recognition as she cants her hips and pushes back against my hand. “Yes. There. So good.”

I can feel the heat lifting off her skin. I can hear the growing desperation in her sobs as she grinds herself against me harder, faster, begging for more, more, more. Until she’s coming hard, like sugar and spice on my tongue.

“Omigod,” she sighs again as I slide up to join her. Her hands are pressed to her eyes, but there’s enough space between them for me to see her lips—puffy, as though she’d been biting on them. Space enough for me to kiss her. So, I do. A soft peck. A final flick of my tongue.

“Good?” I ask as she drops her hands and opens her eyes.

“Mm.Andspicy.”

I shrug, “That’s my name, that’s my game.”

“Omigod,” she says again, laughing up at me. “You’re insane. Did you…did you plan this?”

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