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“Holy fuck, Kerry.” Every inch of his body is tense muscle, waiting for my command to ravage me. I’ve never felt so powerful in life. His body shakes as he tries to hold it together, as he torments himself waiting for my directive.
I swing my hips u
p slowly, squeezing my muscles as I slide back down. When our eyes meet, I breathe the command, “Fuck me. Hard. Don’t stop.”
Nate shifts his hands further up my thighs, nearly to my ass, and digs his fingers in as he slams me back into the wall. All the air is forced from my lungs as he does it and he pushes deeper within me. I arch my back and push against him, creating a rhythm of his hips rocking into mine, forcing himself inside deeper, faster. The pace is fast and hard. There are going to be bruises all over my thighs tomorrow, but I don’t care. It feels like I’m a goddess and he’ll do anything he can to sate my lust. My heels dig into his jeans as he pushes again and again, harder and faster. His body is covered in sweat and his clothing is clinging to his toned muscles. He doesn’t pause or slow.
My hands tangle in his hair as I lose myself in him. I can’t fathom what I’m saying in those moments. I’m lost. I’m all sex and no thought. I want him. I need him. We slam together, purring, and fucking until those tightly coiled parts of me can’t keep it together anymore. I shatter in his arms, as he pumps into me, not relinquishing his hold or slowing his pace. It does something I don’t expect and I’m suddenly panting and breathless again, climbing higher, begging to be fucked harder, faster.
He laughs and coos my name. “Come for me, Kerry.”
“I did.” I’m lost again, floating somewhere between heaven and earth with no intention of coming down. The tightness inside coils again and grows bigger, quickly.
“Again. Come again.” He drives into me as he grabs my thighs, and pulls them higher on his hips.
I can’t think. My body is lost in a bliss that’s pure and sinful. When Nate increases his speed and then slows, I lurch forward and claw his back through his shirt. Fucking fabric.
“You like that?” He moves against me again, slower. I can’t tell what he’s doing, but it leaves me unable to speak. I gasp again and again while frantically trying to come. I’m so close. He resumes his speed, breathless, and this time when he slows he slams in hard. Once, twice, and on the third time, I shatter in his arms for the second time.
CHAPTER 10
As I lay in his arms, everything else fades away. For a brief moment, I can pretend I’m all right. No memories haunt me. No regrets crush my heart. I'm focused on his warm body crushed against mine. Nate breathes steadily as he runs his fingers through my hair, his gaze on the ceiling. From the curve of his mouth, I know he’s thinking about something unpleasant. His high is already gone. Life is so crushing he can’t outrun it for more than a moment at a time.
I clear my throat and tip my head back, glancing up at him. That beautiful face looks down at me, and a cocky grin spreads across his kissable lips. “Hey, there.” His voice is so deep it rumbles in his chest.
“Hey, yourself.” After a moment, I see the happiness drain away from his face. “Put that smile back on right now.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Yes.”
“Or you’ll do what?” The corner of his mouth pulls up into a lopsided grin as he shifts his weight to get a better look at me.
I don’t let him move. “Or I’ll climb right back up there and make you smile again.”
He grins. “I like that threat.”
I can’t stop smiling. “You would.”
“I noticed that little pink bag when you walked in earlier. What’s in there? Something good?”
“Nope, something bad. Very bad.”
“That sounds intriguing.”
“It is, and you know what?”
Before he can answer, the ding-dong of the doorbell sounds. I dart upright, clutching the sheet to my chest. I glance at him. “Expecting someone?”
“No.” Nate’s mood darkens. He pushes himself up, gets out of bed, pulls on a pair of jeans, and pads barefoot to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
There’s something about his eyes and the lines of his mouth that make me worry. He knows who’s there, and he doesn’t want to talk. After Nate disappears through the door, he pulls it shut behind him. I’m not waiting here for someone to walk in. I jump up, tug on my clothes, and smooth my bedhead into a ponytail, before creeping toward the door. I try to listen, but I can’t make out anything they're saying.
There are voices. Two men I don't know and Nate. At first, it’s just the Charlie Brown’s teacher muffled mumbling, but then it gets louder. I crack the door open ever so slightly and peer through the crack. Two men stand in front of Nate. One wears a uniform—maybe a cop—and the other wears a suit. They’re trying to hand him a letter, but Nate won’t take it.
Every muscle in Nate’s back is taut like he might hit something. “This is bullshit!”
“It’s the law, Mr. Smith,” the uniformed man replies without raising his voice. The guy is young, Nate's age, and glances at the suit like he wishes he were somewhere else, doing something less shitty.
