NINE
nash
She openedto me right away.
I noticed that. Made sure to indulge it. Thrust my tongue into her mouth and swept it deep, making sure she knew just how much I’d been thinking about this, how many nights I’d lay in bed and wished her perfume was on my sheets again, wished she was in my bed?—
“You don’t even know,” I murmured against her lips. “You don’t even know how fucking sexy you are, sunshine?—”
“Show me,” she breathed.
I did.
I dropped to my knees in front of her and yanked her skirt up, pressing a wet kiss to her inner thigh…tasting cider, sweat,her.I took my time with her…wanted to learn her again, remember what made her gasp or groan, what made her tick, what made her come.
She had her hands in my hair almost immediately, mussing it up.
“The door…” she gasped. “It’s—there’s a window?—”
Shit, she was right; frosted glass, but someone walking by could see inside just enough if she was pressed up against it likethis. I stood, pulled her into my arms, and went for the desk—for all those pens she’d just organized.
She didn’t care even a little bit—she swept them out of the way herself, laying back, and I didn’t waste time burying my face in her pussy.
“Fuck,” I cursed, tongue flicking out against her panties. “Fucking hell, you taste so fucking good.”
“We have a swear jar—oh gosh?—”
“I’ll pay it later.”
She laughed, then abruptly stopped as I pulled her panties aside and got to work, no ceremony. I dragged my tongue up her slit, pressed it against her clit, did it again. She bucked, yanking hard on my hair, rocking her hips against me. I drank her in, that flavor of cider, the way she moaned for me.
“I’m—I’m gonna?—”
I pressed one finger inside her and she broke.
Coming on my mouth, my tongue, my fingers—perfect,mine. I hadn’t wanted to say it, still didn’t want to admit it, but this girl was mine, I wanted tokeep her mine. Wanted to keep her riding this tongue, these fingers, this cock. Wanted her on her back in my bed, bent over her own desk, pushed up against a wall at the bar.
“That’s right, baby…yes, yes, give it to me. Just like that.”
She was still shaking when I pulled back—just enough so she would feel the absence of my mouth, so she would complain. I was a giver, always had been, but right now I wanted to take. I wanted her to need it. Wanted her to beg.
She pressed up to her elbows, eyes bleary, chestnut hair spilling over her shoulders.
“Nash…”
“Mm.” I pressed a slow kiss to her inner thigh. Felt her muscles jump.
“You stopped,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Why’d you stop?”
Her hips shifted, trying to get me closer, faster, and I held her still. She groaned in frustration.
“We have to hurry if we don’t want to get caught?—”
I laughed, then dragged my tongue up her slit again. She let her head fall back.
“Oh sunshine,” I murmured. “I am not…” I punctuated it with one finger sliding into her perfect pussy. “…ever…” —thrust— “…hurrying with you.”
“Please.”
