by Cynthia Sax
Nate sucks on my tongue and my fingers and toes curl, the pressure divine. I caress his cheeks, his jaw, his neck.
My stomach growls. Loudly. My face heats.
Nate laughs. “I suspected you’d be hungry.” He stands, pulls me upright. I slip my dirty feet into my shoes. “I had groceries delivered to our house.”
Our house. That sounds so nice, so right. I allow him to lead me back to the office building, our hands fused together, our fingers entwined.
“I’ll help you with dinner, the key word being help.” Nate’s tone is light and happy, edged with a boyish excitement. “I’ve never prepared a meal for anyone, not even for myself.”
“Never?” I stare at him. “But cooking is such a joy.”
Crimson creeps up Nate’s neck. “Joy isn’t a Lawford strength either.”
I SHOW MY sexy executive the joy of cooking, teaching him how to chop, stir, taste, and laugh. We dance as the curry simmers, Nate twirling me around the center island. He closes his eyes while I add my secret ingredient. I kiss the air above the spoon and then kiss him. We set the kitchen table together, the dining room too formal for our needs. I chatter while we eat, and Nate listens, all of his attention focused on me.
His phone rings while I’m packing our lunches for tomorrow. Mr. Lawford has been calling all evening.
Nate places plates in the dishwasher. “Has my father suffered enough?”
I glance at my watch. “He has three more minutes of suffering left.” I programmed the funds to automatically transfer, restoring Mr. Lawford’s accounts to their full balances.
Nate’s lips twitch. “I’m sure he’ll never do it again.” He draws me to him. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Tonight is ours.”
I lean into Nate’s hard muscle, his enticing warmth. “Tonight is ours.” I gaze at him, memorizing every inch of his face, knowing our time is limited. “I love you, Nate.” I brush my fingertips over his square chin. “Never doubt that.” I trace his lips. “Ever.” I smile. “Do you have to work?”
“Yes.” Nate playfully nips at my fingertips and I snatch my hand away. “And you do too.” He lifts me to the counter. “But first I want dessert.” He pushes my skirt upward and spreads my legs, his hands rough and arousing.
“We didn’t prepare anything for dessert.” I tremble in anticipation. I’m bare, completely exposed to him.
“Didn’t we?” Nate bends over, fastens his lips to my left knee, and sucks. I squirm, swishing my ass against the enameled lava countertop. “You taste ready.” He switches knees and marks more of my pale skin, his suction exactly right. “And you smell.” He breathes deeply. “Delectable.” His breath gusts against my inner thighs and I quiver.
He strokes up and down my legs, his fingers roaming close to my wetness but not touching, never touching, and I heat to simmering. I unbutton my jacket and drop it to the tiled floor. The cool air puckers my nipples.
“Let me look at you.” Nate opens me more to him. “You’re smooth and white.” He peruses me closely, his golden head positioned between my legs, his gray glacier gaze fixed on my pussy lips. “Pink and wet, succulent with desire.” He extends his tongue and licks one thigh and then the other, leaving trails of sizzling sensation on my skin.
I groan and cup my breasts, ruthlessly squeezing my curves. My hair cascades over my shoulders, the strands as straight and as soft as a bolt of green silk.
My temperature continues to climb as Nate plays with my body, and I writhe over the countertop, seeking coolness. He watches me, his predatory gaze staking a claim on my heart and my soul, his hands dancing over my moving form.
“Touch me, love,” I demand, pinching my nipples, the pain escalating my desire. “Fill me with your fingers.”
Nate’s eyes sparkle with humor. “Dessert should be savored.” He fans my folds and I shiver, the contact sending waves of heady bliss over my body, drawing more moisture from my core.
“Screw savoring dessert.” I follow his fingers with my hips. “Gobble me up.”
Nate chuckles and rubs his thumbs over my clit. I swallow my curse. He’s a dreadful man, my sexy executive, torturing me with an almost gleeful enthusiasm, reveling in my frustration.
He kisses along my legs, over my mons, his love pecks increasingly intense. “Yes,” I murmur encouragement. “That’s what I need.” Nate flicks his tongue over my folds, diving into my crevices, exploring every intimate inch of me, and I grasp his blond head, holding him to me.
Nate skims my entrance, circling round and round. I move my hips, mirroring his actions, my ass brushing the countertop’s hard surface. He pushes his tongue inside me, rasping his flesh against my inner walls, and I cry out, twisting my fingers in his short hair, seeking a handhold.
My world is deliberately chaotic, every norm, every rule challenged. Nate is my anchor, my steadfast man, and I hold onto him, lifting my hips as he fucks me with his tongue, devouring my pussy, brushing his nose against my clit.
Nate growls, the animalistic sound unexpected and thrilling. He throws my legs over his shoulders and cups my ass, his grip secure and tight. I buck against him as he eats me with a mind-blowing gusto, thrusting his tongue inside me again and again.
“Love,” I pant, my chest tight, my arms and legs shaking. “Love,” I repeat, unable to find more words, my brain filled with one thought. I love him. I love this incredible man. He licks, nibbles, pulls on my pussy folds, demolishing the remnants of my restraint, teetering me over the edge of release.
“Love?” My voice stretches with need.
Nate fastens his lips over my clit and looks upward, meeting my gaze, his eyes as dark as night. I read his intention, my breath catches, and he sucks. Hard. I scream, bucking upward, smacking my pussy against his face, ecstasy flowing over me.
Nate flings an arm over me, holding me down, as he pulls on my sensitive flesh, his tanned cheeks speckled with moisture. I twist and wiggle and writhe, struggling to be free, my satisfaction too intense, colors exploding in my brain.
Nate’s grasp on my body is unbreakable, his suction transcendental. The waves of bliss gradually lessen and I still, my limbs heavy and my heart light.
Nate gently lowers my legs. “You’re right.” He straightens, licking his lips, his hair spiked by my fingers, his face flushed and wet. “You’re delicious.” His eyes glow.
“Am I?” I gaze at him, dazed.
He gathers me in his arms. “The sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”
“And you’ve tasted many women.” I wrap my arms around his neck, too high on his touch to be jealous. Other women might have held him in the past, but he’s my man now.
“I’ve only tasted one woman.” Nate presses his lips against my forehead. “But I know she’s the best.” He holds me tight.
I smile sleepily. His escorts took their no-kissing rule very seriously. “Your sex life must have really sucked.”
“My entire life sucked.” He nuzzles his chin into my hair. “And I didn’t realize it until I met you.”
“Hmmm . . .” I close my eyes, savoring his words, his heat, his scent.
Chapter Eleven
* * *
WE WORK INTO the early morning hours, our computers set up in Nate’s home office, our chairs positioned side by side, each of us focused on our own projects while spending time together. I’m in harmony with him and at peace with the world.
When our minds no longer can function Nate leads me to my new room and we make passionate love, calming our bodies. I fall into a deep dreamless sleep, my cheek pressed against his tanned chest. He’ll leave me during the night, I suspect, maintaining his part of our arrangement, an arrangement I no longer want.
My predictable man isn’t as predictable as I think. I wake up in his arms with his chest gently rising and falling against me and his breath blowing on my hair. The sun’s rays stretch across the bed, lighting his golden skin, warming me.
Nate smiles in his sleep, his face relaxed and his blond hair mussed. “You�
��re so handsome,” I whisper, tracing his straight nose with one of my fingertips.
“Is that why you agreed to our arrangement?” He opens his eyes, his irises the palest coolest gray. “Because, as my father learned yesterday, you didn’t need my money.”
“You wouldn’t have allowed me to touch you if I hadn’t taken your money.” I circle his flat male nipple with the tip of my tongue, tasting the salt of his skin. Nate’s body hardens, his muscles flexing tight, his cock growing rigid against my left thigh. “You needed that.” I flick his skin.
He rolls me onto my back and stares down at me, studying my face, his expression serious. “And what did you need?”
I lift my knees, cradling him between my thighs. “I need you.” He eases inside me, stretching me open, filling me. “Not your money or your gorgeous face.” I dig my short blunt nails into his shoulders, the slow slide fraying my nonexistent control. “I need you, love.”
Nate stills, his cock buried inside me. “You would say that.” He rests his forehead against mine, his breath blowing hot against my lips, his chest flattening my breasts, his weight heavy and arousing. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m only perfect when I’m with you.” I run my palms over his back, savoring his strength, his overwhelming maleness. “When I’m with you I fit.” I tilt my hips and he pushes deeper.
“You fit me too well,” Nate groans. He covers my lips with his, kissing me thoroughly, leisurely, with a heartbreaking tenderness, a caring I didn’t think possible. His hip rock and I move with him, matching him stroke for stroke, the connection between us tight and secure, almost unbreakable.
We make love slowly as though neither of us wishes for this encounter to end. I caress him all over, investigating the breadth of his shoulders, the slope of his spine, the small of his back. He’s my peace, my love, my freedom, all of my beliefs rolled into one sexy man, and I give him the touch he needs, learning the curve of his firm ass, his muscles clenching and releasing as he fucks me.
Nate pushes in and out of my mouth and my pussy, his tongue and cock sharing the same rhythm. My lips hum and my heart pounds, desire building, building, building. I wrap my legs around him, coaxing him to move faster, faster.
He complies, breaking our lip-lock and gliding his cheek along mine. Nate advances and retreats, advances and retreats, pushing me toward the point of no thought and no return. The headboard bangs against the wall, the noise punctuating his thrusts, and a sheen of perspiration covers his skin, these proofs of exertion exciting me.
“Yes, love, harder.” I rise up, meeting each drive forward, smacking our bodies together, warmth radiating from the points of contact. This is where I belong, my chaos contained by Nate’s unrelenting form, his cock surging in and out of me, his grunts echoing in my ear.
He remains too controlled for my liking. I rake my fingernails over his back and he arches his spine, pushing into my punishment, embracing the pain.
“You’re wild,” I exclaim, exhilarated by my Iceman’s heated reaction.
“I’m wild for you.” Nate nips my bottom lip, the sweet agony cascading down my neck, over my chest, connecting with my pussy. I shake, rippling beneath him. He sucks my marked flesh as he thrusts into me again and again.
“I’m close,” I admit, passion coiling around me, stealing my breath. “When I come,” I pant, “you come.” I grip his shoulders, staring up at him.
“We come as one.” Nate meets my gaze. His eyes are dark and shine with emotion. Rivulets of moisture drip down his cheeks, glistening on his skin.
“One,” he bellows as he drives into me with a toe-curling force. I hold on, Nate swivels his hips, grinding against my clit, and the tight band of desire stretching across my chest snaps.
I scream, levitating off the bed, the sheets tangling around my legs. Nate slams me back down on the soft mattress, restraining me, taming my anarchy. I fight him as I fight everyone. He doesn’t free me, and in my heart I know this is right, this is how it is supposed to be, how I am supposed to be.
He pushes deeper inside me as he fills my body with his hot cum. My pussy constricts and relaxes, constricts and relaxes, milking every last drop from his cock.
“Fuck.” Nate collapses, flattening me. I murmur a protest and he rolls, taking me with him, our bodies and souls connected. I ride the rise and fall of his chest, feel the quieting of his inner storm.
A warm blanket of comforting silence falls upon us. I breathe deeply, savoring his scent and his touch, my heart filled with love. He cares for me. I know this in my soul. He might even love me, though the words are trapped inside his chest.
“We agreed to sleep in separate beds.” Nate drifts his fingertips over my ivy tattoo, tracing each leaf, each curve in the vine. “I violated our agreement.”
I look at him. The lines etched between his eyebrows reveal the breadth of my rule-setting man’s concerns. “Thank you.” I cuddle closer to him. “You broke the rules to make me happy and that means a lot to me.”
Nate’s frown deepens. “I didn’t break the rules to make you happy,” my rigidly honest executive confesses. “I broke the rules to make me happy.”
He wants to sleep by my side, to spend time with me. Isn’t that love? “That means even more to me.” I smile at him. “I love you, Nate.”
Nate’s lips part and I hold my breath, certain he’ll finally say the words back to me, finally tell me he loves me. He bends and presses those parted lips to my forehead, once more saying nothing, giving no indication of how he feels.
Struggling to contain my disappointment, I exhale slowly. “You truly suck at pillow talk.” I roll away from him and stride toward the bathroom, leaving the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met lying naked in my bed.
WE GET READY for work. I shower and don the next suit hanging in the closet, a matte black leather suit with double slits in the skirt and a corset-styled jacket, laces cinching the waist.
We make breakfast together, Nate mastering the toaster while I fry the eggs. I tease him about setting off the smoke detectors. He gives me that small smile of his. I ask his advice about an issue I’m having with a subcontractor. He suggests some options. I don’t tell him I love him again. I know what his response will be.
By the time we reach the car I’m all talked out. We drive in silence, with the windows open, the morning air cooling the vehicle. My backpack rests by my feet. I’m carrying Nate’s lunch as well as my own.
I watch the activity around me. A dark-suited man in a red sports car talks on his phone while changing lanes. A harried mom in a minivan drives with only one hand on the wheel as she tries to control a bawling boy in the backseat. Nate’s face creases with more and more lines, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel, his body rigid.
“You’re worrying about something,” I observe. “Spit it out, love.” I place my hand on his upper thigh. “You’ll feel better.”
Nate’s lips move, making no sound. I force myself to wait and wait and wait, patience not a strength of mine.
“I’m not good at pillow talk,” he finally blurts
“No shit, Sherlock.” I roll my eyes. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“I have no idea what you expect,” Nate explains. “Pillow talk isn’t covered in our agreement.” I grit my teeth, tired of hearing about our damn agreement. His gaze shifts to my face and then back to the road. “I don’t want to disappoint you. It’s better if I say nothing.” His knuckles whiten.
“No, it’s not better if you say nothing.” I cover his hand with mine. “If you ever disappoint me I’ll tell you and you’ll fix it. I’m not the type of person to stay quiet about . . . well . . . anything.”
Nate says nothing, the lines on his face remaining.
“We’ll likely have a monster fight. I’ll give you the finger and curse you out and you’ll get all icy and sexy.” I shiver, heating up simply thinking about our imaginary skirmish. “This will enrage me even more and I’ll slap your chest, setting off
the sparks between us. You know how it is when we touch.” I move my hand to his upper thigh and he hardens, his cock pressing against the fabric of his black dress pants. “Then we’ll have wild crazy make-up sex, putting a few dents in that immaculate desk of yours.”
I pause. He doesn’t say anything.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“I think wild crazy make-up sex sounds good.” Nate’s lips lift into his small smile, the creases between his eyebrows flattening.
“That’s all you got from that tirade, huh?” I laugh and skim my hand over his fabric-covered cock.
He turns the car into Blaine Technologies’ underground parking lot. “I have an eight o’clock meeting.”
“And I must cause turmoil in the mobile world.” I regretfully move my hand back to his thigh. “Wild crazy make-up sex will have to wait.”
Nate parks the car and covers my hand with his. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Camille.”
I suck in my breath. This is as close to a declaration of love as he has ever come. “And you said you’re not good at pillow talk.” I bounce out of the vehicle, my spirits light, and sling the straps of my backpack over one of my shoulders, not feeling its weight.
The limousine is parked in the corner. The same three black sedans and silver Jaguar are slotted in their regular spaces. I’m arriving with the same man and he wears the same black suit, white shirt, and black tie he always does.
For once this repetition, this normalcy, doesn’t make me squirrelly, doesn’t make me want to snarl and snap and fight the establishment. Nate takes my hand, leading me to the bank of elevators, and I follow him, blissfully content.
“You know we will fight, right?” I press my body against his. “Ours will never be a peaceful relationship. I have a bit of a temper.”
The elevator doors open. “I’ve noticed.” Nate enters, turns, draws me to him, his hands resting on my leather-clad ass. “You get angry, we fight, and then we have make-up sex.” He shrugs. “I can live with that.”
