He held my hand as I stood up…went for my pants first, like a weirdo, because I was suddenly desperate for him to touch me. I hadn’t been wearing underwear when I walked in—not because I was trying to be sexy or anything, I hadn’t been sexy a day in my life—but because I’d been too exhausted and shocked to bother.The sweats slid off and he put them right back on the stool, giving me a soft place to land.
Only then did he drop to his knees.
“Lean back,” he instructed.
I did.
Then—
“Oh god,” I breathed.
His hands landed on my thighs and his tongue went right to my clit, no teasing. He dragged it over me, then clamped his warm mouth over my whole pussy and did it again.
I arched back against the bar. I was wearing this stupid oversized t-shirt that had belonged to Bryce.
Nash was doing things to me that Bryce had never, ever done.
“That’s my girl,” Nash growled against my pussy. “You’re already close, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes?—”
“You can come for me,” he said. “Not gonna judge you.” His tongue lapped at me a few times, sucking every so often, the heat and the wet and the…ohgosh— “Come on, Maggie. Come on my face, sunshine.”
It was so stupid, but I think it was the nickname that did it.
That first orgasm came so swift and so hard that it made my vision go white at the edges, thighs clamping around his head, one hand scrabbling for the bar behind me and the other fisting in his salt-and-pepper hair. He didn’t stop—just worked me through it, every wave, every aftershock.
Then he kept not stopping.
This is where Bryce would have stopped. Where he would have made it clear he’d done his job, and now it was time for me to do mine.
Nash, though? It wasn’t even close.
I could feel another orgasm building. Nash’s tongue pressed against my opening, slipped inside me just barely, just enoughfor me to clench around him and feel that pressure. I rocked my hips, the barstool scuffing against the floor.
“Close again,” he said, his voice rough with pleasure. “Fuck yeah…come on, Maggie. Come on. Give it to me.”
Again.Again, somehow, and I’d never come this many times in what…minutes?Seconds?
“You taste so fucking good,” he was saying. “Fuck…fuck, you taste so fucking good.”
Another first. Bryce had always been grossed out.
So I clutched his hair, pulled his face in, and just…started to rock against him. Started to chase it. Gave him what he was asking for, without shame, without even a shred of doubt or hesitation. “I wanna come for you,” I exhaled, moaned. “I want you inside me?—”
He raised his head, face flushed, lips glistening with my arousal…and he grinned.
“You want me to take you upstairs, sunshine?”
“Yes,” I nodded fast.
Then he just—he reached out and hepicked me up.
I was feral for him, looping my arms around his neck, tasting him for the first time as I dragged my tongue across his pulse. Never, ever. This wasn’t me. I didn’t do things like this, I didn’t lose control, but now…I wanted him. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone, anything.
We climbed just a few stairs, I guess into the little house that sat next to the bar. More of an apartment, really—tiny, cozy, one of those old bungalows you sometimes saw in old towns. There were kids’ toys on the floor, a train track with a barbie doll thrown haphazardly in with dinosaurs and train cars.
We moved through the living room into one of the bedrooms.
