Page 58 of All in December
“So…” I break the silence after a few bites. “Did I pass the boyfriend-at-a-work-party test?”
Nash looks up from his coffee with a mock-serious expression. “You did more than pass. You’re hired for the gig full-time if you’d like it,” he says, then cracks a grin.
“Benefits include…?”
“Unlimited snuggles. Occasional hotel stays. Complimentary kids’ sleepovers, schedule permitting. And a boyfriend who fucks you just how you like, every time.”
“That’s a pretty solid package,” I say, leaning back against the headboard. “Hmm, tempting.”
“Unless you have other offers.”
I shake my head. “Not a one.”
He laughs, pulling me forward into a quick kiss.
“I accept, of course.” I grin.
No part of me understands how I got this lucky with Nash. He’s kind and caring, and everything I’ve dreamed of—both in bed and in the rest of my life.
I’m all in with him.
We eat the last bites of breakfast, and he shows me a photo Tess just sent him of the kids building a blanket fort in the living room. Sam’s face is lit up with joy, and my chest aches with how much I miss him.
“It looks like they had a great time,” I say, smiling.
“It sure does.” Nash taps the screen, saving the photo before setting the phone down. “Ready to head out and go see them?”
“Yeah. It’s only been a night, but I miss him.”
“I understand that. Let’s shower quickly before we head out.”
I nod, and Nash goes into the bathroom, turning the water on before I join him.
We step in, and the warmth hits me instantly. I let the water wash over my face and shoulders, feeling the tinge of soreness in my thighs and back from my position last night. Nash reaches for my waist, pulling me back against his chest as his lips brush the curve of my neck.
“Sore?” he asks.
“Little bit,” I admit with a quiet laugh. “But it’s a good sore.”
“Yeah?” He noses behind my ear. “What about here?” His hands slide down to my hips, his fingers grazing the inside of my thighs until they grip my dick. “Still needy?”
I bite my lip and nod, leaning my head back against his shoulder. “Always needy for you.”
“Want me to make you come one more time before we go home?”
I groan, because I do. Of course I do. I always want Nash’s hands on me.
“Yes, touch me.”
Nash pours some body wash into his palm, rubs it between his hands until it’s slick and warm, then presses a kiss to the back of my neck. “Turn around.”
I do, and he pulls me in until our chests are nearly touching. He nudges one foot between mine to make more space, and then his hand wraps around both of our cocks.
The sensation is immediate. Hot, tight, perfect. I groan, bracing myself with one hand on his shoulder, the other against the slippery tile beside us as he strokes us together in his strong, steady grip.
“Feel good?” he asks.
“Fuck, Nash,” I breathe, already thrusting into his fist, chasing the friction. “So good.”
