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He ignores me and silences me with his lips on mine.
Oh god.
“Nathan,” I pant against his lips, trying to reach for his shirt but failing miserably. Growl. “Will you just…” I’m spun and pushed face first onto the bed, my knees still on the ground.
Strong hands grip my sides, the thumbs moving in slow circles along my back. “You had really bad back ache that day.”
“Yeah.” I remember it well.
“I told you to relax,” he says quietly. “I moved your top up your back.” He moves his thumbs up the sides of my spine. “And I stroked your skin like this.” His fingertips slide down my back, occasionally lifting and overlapping the invisible trails left behind. They dig into the base of my spine and I don’t bother to bite back the moan. That feels good. “You told me not to stop.” One of his hands leaves me, but the other continues working its magic. “I still remember the exact moment this.” He smoothes his hand over the curve of my soft globes. “Connected with this.” To make his point further, he pushes his hips into me. I move back, wanting to feel more. “Do you remember what happened next?”
I do. Oh god, I really do. “You told me I had flawless skin.”
Soft and gentle fingers tease my ribs. “You do.”
“You kept rubbing my lower back and dragging your fingers across my skin,” I mutter in an almost trancelike state. “You asked me what I’d done in town. And we kept talking, even as you rubbed against me.” He does it again. “I could feel you getting harder.”
“Like now?” He whispers, pulling my knickers down to my knees after grinding himself into me once more.
“Yes.”
His leather clad thumb presses over the swollen lips that hide my clit. He circles slowly and gently, driving me insane. Heat pools in my belly and a delicious tingling spreads through my limbs. I ache to be filled.
Fortunately I don’t have to wait long. I hear a foil wrapper tear moments before he’s at my entrance.
His hands continue to stroke my back as he sinks in slowly and gently, going in a fraction of a centimetre before pulling back and then doing the same again.
I’ve never felt such a sweet torture.
“Nathan.” I moan his name and push back against him.
The head finally pops in; I feel the stretching and immediately clench down. The gasp he releases makes me do somersaults inside. There’s nothing sexier than a man moaning during sex.
Another thought occurs; I’m having sex with Nathan… again. Wow.
Nathan seems to have the same thought about me because he reaches out and knocks the photo of Caleb off my bedside table. I should be angry, but right now I’m not anything but horny.
“Don’t do this to me,” I whimper as he continues only allowing the head entry. Whenever I push back, he moves backwards with me.
He chuckles, his hand going to my hip as the other slides up to my hair. I wince when he takes a large handful of my brown waves and pulls tight. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I half shout in faux aggravation.
He slams home, his hand in my hair and the hand at my hip holding me steady. I’m expecting him to meet my cervix, he’s definitely long enough. Hell, he could probably meet my cervix and still have a couple of inches outside. Abnormally large is the only way to describe his beautiful penis. No, not penis… cock. A crude word, but the only word that fits his manhood.
I reach down with my fingers as he slowly glides in and out, only allowing himself so much entry. My fingertips glide over my sensitive nub and reach for my entrance. I feel the underside of his cock and notice immediately that he’s not pushing in further than the condom.
Why?
“Gwen, remove your hand,” he bites out, grasping my arm and yanking it roughly from under me.
“I was just…”
“Don’t.”
“Nathan,” I snap, feeling my lust go down a notch. We’ve both stopped moving, both stopped moaning and grunting.
He ignores me and after a quiet moment he reaches around my hips and slides his finger into my wetness, making sure to rub in the right spot. “Let me.” He leans forward and I feel his clothed chest against my naked back. The buttons dig into me and the extra stimulation against my over sensitised skin sends tiny flames of pleasure that pop around my body. “Let me make you feel good.”
I want to protest and tell him that I want to make him feel good too, but I don’t. Something tells me that I should do this his way, no matter how irritating it may be. I love him, I respect him and I’m trying to understand him. The only way I can understand him is if I accept him and learn as we go along.
