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He takes himself in his hand and guides his crown to my center. Our eyes lock.
No condom.
No clue what comes next.
The wildness of the moment—allowing myself to get lost in it—I’ve never felt more free.
Right away, the feel of his bareness pressing inside me sends shockwaves through my system. I sink onto his length slowly, my legs shaking with the effort not to rush. His stomach caves, and he shuts his eyes, taking deep breaths through his nose.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he bites out, accent thick as molasses. “You feel amazing.”
“You feel big,” I say, and I mean it. I feel myself stretching around him, and I look down to see my lips spread wide in an attempt to accommodate his broadness.
He goes still. Cracks open an eye. “Too big?”
“The right kind of big,” I reply, and swallow him to the root.
I see stars. Nate grabs my hand and holds it. For a long beat, then another, I stay still, adjusting to the fullness.
The stillness doesn’t last long. My clit grazes his pubic hair and a spike of need bolts through me. I circle my hips, a mini-thrust, but it’s enough to make Nate suck in a breath.
“I’m not gonna last long,” he says.
I guide his free hand to my pussy. “Me neither.”
He needs no instruction. He tends to the place I need him most while I rock against him. My tits bounce, and the pressure builds—good pressure, the kind I want more of—and I reach up to play with my nipples.
“Aw, baby,” Nate says, his expression pained as he watches me. “You’re beautiful.”
I smile, and he smiles. He rolls his thumb over my clit, his touch spreading fire through my veins.
I ride him harder, seeking relief. He meets me stroke for stroke. Our bodies instinctively find a sweat-inducing athletic rhythm that’s fun, hot, and lovely.
This.
I’ve missed out on this while running in circles, going and doing and accomplishing.
This.
It’s the pat on the back I was seeking. The sense of wholeness, of settledness. Like I’m exactly where I should be, doing exactly what I should be doing.
Not because I’m with someone else. But because I’m finally with myself again. My body and my brain and my soul are all in the same place for the first time in years.
Tears prick my eyes at the same moment I come, clamping down on Nate’s dick as the waves hit me. I don’t realize I’m saying his name until he comes and says mine too. I collapse on top of him, and we hold each other, breathing hard.
His cum leaks out of me, making a mess of the place where our bodies meet. His sheets too—I’ll strip them and throw them in the wash when we get up.
I hope we don’t get up anytime soon.
Reading my mind, Nate wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead.
“You’re home,” he says softly.
“I am,” I say. And I mean it.
Chapter Thirty-One
Milly
I’d forgotten how crowded my kitchen gets when my family’s in it.
All four of my brothers, plus Mom, are crowded around the antique table set in a nook by the back stairs. Samuel’s house may be set up for entertaining large crowds, but mine most certainly isn’t, especially when it’s a complete disaster. Between the bitcoin billionaire wedding a couple of days ago (went off without a hitch, if you don’t count one guest being a no-show) and spending every spare minute I have at Nate’s, I haven’t been home to pick up.
Beau, Samuel, Rhett, and Hank look like giants sitting at a toddler’s table, their shoulders and elbows jostling for space as they sip the Redheaded Romeo I poured for them.
It’s a shameless bid to soften them up, but I need them on my side. Nate’s and mine. I have a feeling we’re going to need my family’s help to push Wilson out of our lives for good. Even if we don’t, it’d make me happy to see our families working together for the first time in, well, centuries. Literally.
“I never drink my whiskey straight,” Mom says, peering at the glass in her hand. “But this stuff is delicious enough on its own. Not too sweet and not too strong either.”
Samuel smacks his lips. “Best I’ve tasted in years. That’s saying something, considering my very experienced palate.”
“You never were one for the humblebrag,” Rhett murmurs, shaking his head at Samuel.
“Why be humble when you can be awesome?”
I hold up my hand. “Fighting’s not allowed at my house. I know y’all are busy, so I’ll get right to it.” I take a fortifying gulp of whiskey. “I need your help.”
Beau raises his brows over the rim of his glass. “Something tells me this has to do with Nate Kingsley.”
Another fortifying sip, the whiskey burning a trail of cinnamon-y fire down my throat. “Nate didn’t want to get y’all involved, but I honestly don’t think we have a choice at this point.”
