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His thumb on my nipples was like a straight connection to my clit. The gentle roll of his thumb combined with the stroke of his erection between my legs made me hitch my hips and wrap my legs around him. How could I pull him any closer? Whatever I had to do, I needed him so much closer.
He dropped his forehead to mine and kissed me gently, using his thumb and forefinger to tease my nipple as he rocked harder against me.
"Westin. Oh God, I need you."
My hands pulled at his back, sliding under his T-shirt, my nails scouring his back. He dragged his lips from mine again and growled above me. "Ah fuck, Nissa."
His hips were moving faster now in a cadence that made my body sing.
His hand impatiently released my breast and slid back up under my top, yanking down the cup of my bra. Now we were skin against skin, his thumb, and forefinger playing and plucking.
He kissed me harshly before whispering against my lips. "You feel fucking incredible. Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?"
His next pluck was harsher, making my entire body shake, and my legs tightened around his waist.
Then we were just a compilation of teeth and tongues and desperate roving hands, and his cock stroking against my clit. The cotton fabric of my knickers and his boxers keeping us from actual penetration. But it didn’t matter. Sensation, and need, and desire, and…
Something snapped inside me.
I didn't realize the scream I heard was mine until he chuckled low and kissed me deeply again. His tongue mimicked the motion of his hips, the stroke, retreat, stroke, retreat, stroke, retreat. That lightning streak of desire that had just taken me on a ride was back for a second round. And this time, as he dragged his lips from mine, Westin watched me intently, his gaze dark now. Sweat was pouring off his brow. And as I broke in his arms, he gave me a satisfied smile before he cursed low, rocking his hips against me one more time, and then burying his face in my hair.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh my fucking God. Nissa." The sticky warmth between us was evidence of just how far we'd gone, but he didn't separate from me. He didn't pull away. He just held me tighter as he rolled us to our sides, holding me close. "Go to sleep, Nissa. When we wake up, we’ll shower. But right now, I need to hold you."
And he wasn't wrong, because as much as maybe I thought I should shower, or process all of this, or be embarrassed, there was none of that. Just the heady bliss of being in his arms, feeling sated but still wanting more, followed by the distinct question of, What the ever-living-fuck was that, and how do I get more of it?
26
Nissa
Sometime during the early hours, we’d woken up and Westin had cleaned us both off and gotten me new sleep clothes. I’d expected him to leave but he’d crawled back into bed with me, cocooning me in his heat.
I was surprised to find myself alone when I woke again. Where was he?
When I tiptoed into the living room, I stopped short.
There was Westin, in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, shirtless.
I glanced at the clock. It was only 7:30. Had he even slept? I knew he must have at least briefly because I remembered being encased in his warmth while he snored lightly next to me. When had he woken up, much less prepared a whole English fry up?
I started down the stairs and he called up to me, “Oh, you're awake.”
“Yeah. You weren't next to me, so I couldn't sleep.”
The smile he gave me was sheepish and almost shy. When I joined him in the kitchen, he pulled out a chair for me. “Here, grab a plate and eat. Once you've eaten, we'll get ready for class and then make plans to go see the flat. Cleaners have already been there though.”
“Already? When did you have time to do all that?”
“Let's just say I was up and staring at the ceiling hours ago. Thought I might as well make myself useful.”
Something was up with him, but I couldn't put my finger on it. He wasn't avoiding me exactly, but there was distance in his movements.
Duh? Even if he doesn't regret last night, there could be repercussions. The biggest one is named Julian Montgomery.
Last night when I'd been burning, needing to feel Westin's touch, his hands in my hair, his fingertips on my skin, I hadn't exactly been thinking about the repercussions of what my father might do to him.
When he placed the massive plate in front of me, my stomach rumbled. I dipped my sliver of toast into the beans before taking a bite and moaning. “You made bloody curry beans? Where have you been all my life?”
His smile was soft as he brushed a hand over my hair. “For the most part, I've been right here.”
