“Sorry,” she mumbled, pushing the memory away. “Getting carried away with the old skin starvation. I—uh—I suppose I haven’t touched anyone in a while.”
“Why the hell not?”
His indignation was strong enough to draw an actual laugh from her. “I don’t know. Would you like me to send out an email questionnaire?”
“No need,” he said with a smile, wrapping his arms around her. “Just stay here a second, would you?” He was looking at her again, all fond and soft and sweet and… close. He had an amazing mouth. If he kissed her—
He’s not going to kiss you.
But if he kissed her between her legs—
Okay! Time to excuse yourself and masturbate your way back to common sense.
Nina did not excuse herself. Instead, she put her head on his shoulder without thinking too hard about it. There was only the slightest pause, the slightest moment of tension, before he relaxed beneath her. He tightened his arms around her just enough, because James had always been a fan-fucking-tastic hugger.
They sat for a while, silent and still. She felt the rise and fall of his chest in time with his slow exhalations, ghosting over her bare shoulder. She was… peaceful, for a few minutes. Peaceful, and impressed with herself for holding off all impure thoughts despite their closeness. And his handsomeness. And the way he held her, and the scent of him, intoxicating as usual.
Then he shifted suddenly, pulling away. She was jolted back into full awareness, and when she looked up at his face, she found…
Panic?
“Well,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. “As long as you know.” He looked over at the TV, seeming suddenly tense. “It’s getting late. We should really get on with the film.”
She blinked. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he gritted out, rather unconvincingly.
“James, if—”
“I swear I’m fine, Cupcake. But we have a busy day tomorrow, so we should…” He trailed off, which was baffling in itself. James wasn’t really a mumble-y, stuttering sort of person. “Come on,” he muttered, and then he put his hands on her hips and lifted her off him like she was a tissue. Which she most assuredly was not. Nina landed back on the sofa with an undignified plop, cheeks burning. What the hell was his problem? If he didn’t want—
“I’m going to get some water,” he blurted out, his words blurring together as he stood. Then he stalked out of the room like his arse was on fire, leaving Nina staring in confusion at the two full glasses on the coffee table.
Water.
He was going to get some water.
He was—
Oh. Gosh. Hm. Once upon a time, it would never have occurred to Nina that James Foster could be the victim of an accidental hard-on. But then, once upon a time, she’d never felt his tongue between her legs.
Well, now. This was interesting. And it certainly lessened the sting of their earlier I’m just not that into you conversation.
Of course, he still wasn’t into her in the ways that mattered. But she refused to let that thought linger when she was already flirting with sadness 24/7. Positive vibes only. And here was a positive vibe: she made James horny whether he liked it or not. So there!
Nice to know she’d abandoned all dignity, even inside her own head, when it came to this particular man.
He returned ten minutes later, looking much more like himself, if a little brisk. “You want to play the film?” he asked quickly, like if he spoke first, she might not ask any awkward questions. When he sat down, squashing himself into the corner, he managed to leave an acre of space between them.
Nina bit back a smile. “Sure. You know how much I love men in skin-tight outfits, even if they are subtle advocates of eugenics and a militarised form of vigilante ‘justice’.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” James snorted, his full lips curving into a smile.
“Hey, you asked.”
The look he gave her was warm, almost unbearably so. “I did, didn’t I?”
He pressed play.
Chapter Four
“Nina, sweetheart, you’re so fucking wet.” James sucked on her swollen clit and explored her glossy folds with his fingertips. When she arched toward him and moaned in response, satisfaction hit him like a bolt of lightning. He was good at this. He was good at her. Which made sense. When you knew a woman this well and watched her this close and cared this fucking much, it added up.
“Let me taste you,” he murmured, his voice so low he could barely hear himself. “I need to taste you.” He licked lower, savoured the tang of her honey, pressed his hard dick into the sofa cushions and rubbed his cheek against her inner thigh. Nina’s inner thigh. How the hell did he get here, at the apex of his fucking fantasies?
James had been so confused when she kissed him, but the confusion hadn’t lasted long. Knowing he shouldn’t think about her like this, shoving away the instinct to look too closely, pretending he didn’t see her face every time he touched himself—those things were easy. But when Nina came over and kissed him, when she slipped that soft, sweet tongue into his mouth and pressed her little tits against his chest and said his name—
That had been hard.
James was so fucking hard.
But he shouldn’t be doing this. He should stop right now. He should—
James woke up with a jolt and promptly fell right off the sofa. Jesus fucking Christ. His hip made sharp contact with the floor, his elbow knocked into the coffee table, but he barely felt it. His chest heaved with each laboured breath, his blood pulsed hard enough to fizz and ache beneath his skin, and his cock…
His cock was rigid and straining for release, his own precome seeping steadily and stickily against his stomach. He rushed out a sigh and licked his lips, desperate to chase away the phantom taste of Nina on his tongue. The slightly salty bite and deep, drugging perfume of her wet pussy. So wrong. And such a bad fucking idea. But God—he pressed a fist to his mouth, biting down to stifle a groan. His dick fucking hurt.
James heaved himself back up onto the sofa, the same one his Nina had writhed on as she came. But no, not his, she couldn’t be his—she’d only felt that way, for a moment. Lying there, those sharp eyes soft with the pleasure he gave her, her pussy spread open like a honey-dipped bloom, begging for his tongue, his fingers… Oh yeah. She’d felt like his then.
You should’ve given her your cock when you had the chance. She’d take it so sweetly.
And now she was just down the hall, in James’s bed, all alone. If he went to her…
But no. He couldn’t. He mustn’t. Aside from all the reasons why it would be wrong—he looked out for her, she needed him, he was literally responsible for her protection now—Nina simply didn’t want the things James wanted. Didn’t want the romance, the commitment, the intimate connection he craved with her and her alone. And he couldn’t take anything less. Not ever, but certainly not with her.
Knowing all of that didn’t do his erection any good, though. His cock was still pointing up at him accusingly, like it blamed him personally for the current lack of Nina’s pussy around it.
With a helpless groan, James gave up a little of his hard-won control. Ignoring his better instincts, he shoved down his briefs and fisted his own length.
So. Fucking. Good.
A moan caught in his throat as he squeezed himself, as sweet pressure offered a hint of relief.
“Please. James. Touch me.”
His hand was bigger, harder, rougher than Nina’s, but he closed his fucking eyes and imagined.
Imagined her tight grip stroking him, teasing him, milking the come from his heavy, desperate balls.
Imagined her sweet, filthy mouth pressing kisses over his fevered skin.
Imagined her whispering his name, that she wanted him, only him, because it was him…
And then he heard her. For real.
A soft little gasp, one that had been seared into his memory weeks ago alongside the taste of her pussy, one he’d recognis
e anywhere.
His eyes snapped open, and there she stood in the moonlit shadows of the room. Nina. She wore a white top that displayed her stiff nipples like rock-hard diamonds, and tight, lacy knickers that clung to the plump curve of her mound. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was a lush O of shock. He blinked, but she didn’t go away.
Nina was really standing right there.
And for Christ’s sake, she looked like a dream, like a fuck fantasy. James knew he should put his dick away and start making excuses but—
Clearly, he was delirious with exhaustion or with plain old lust, because instead of horror, all he felt was the tingling at the base of his spine that meant he’d be coming sooner rather than later. Something must have fucking possessed him, because all he could do was hold her midnight gaze and keep jerking himself. Felt like he couldn’t stop with a gun to his head.
And Nina didn’t move. Didn’t look away. Didn’t make a sound. Just watched him, looking as hungry—as starving for this—as James felt.
He couldn’t stop imagining how he might use that still-open mouth, how he might worship the cunt her underwear clung to. Her gaze dropped to his lap—to his thick, hard cock, standing crudely between them like a neon sign. Her eyelids drooped, her chest rising and falling as her breaths stuttered. He heard his own heartbeat in his ears.
And then one of Nina’s delicate little hands crept down over her hips and slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear. James swore he almost passed the fuck out. She caught his gaze again, held it, and he understood the message hidden there.
Just this once.
He felt it too, a whisper shivering through his blood, like a secret sent directly from his heart. But that couldn’t be right, because just this once with Nina was guaranteed to rip the heart from his chest.
Really? You seriously can’t just come and get over it, Foster?
Not with her. Especially not after their conversation this evening, when he’d asked her—begged her—to say that he was different, that they were different… and she hadn’t.
Because they weren’t.
But God, he was really fucking horny, and she must be too, because her hand delved deeper. He could see the outline of her fingers through thin, white fabric as she parted her own pussy lips. Her head fell back, exposing the long, elegant line of her neck as she moaned.
Fuck. Fuck. If Nina needed this, who was he to take it away?
Resist her.
Protect her.
Give her what she needs.
James felt his hand flex on his cock and knew what he’d do before he’d consciously made the choice. He managed to force out a few words, his voice rasping between them in the dark. “You stay over there. I stay over here. When you’re done, Nina, go to sleep.”
She looked at him, something he couldn’t quite identify flashing in her gaze. “And then we pretend nothing happened tomorrow?”
He tightened his jaw.
“Alright, James,” she murmured, a slight, ironic smile curving her lips. “It was just a dream.” He heard something in her words that he wanted to follow, to investigate, to expose—but then she leaned back against the wall and eased off her underwear, shimmying it down to the floor and kicking it away. She raised one knee, pressing her foot flat to the wall behind her. The hint of her cunt he saw in the barely-there light was enough to make James wild with need: plump, parted lips, fat jewel of a clit, honeyed arousal glistening on her folds.
He choked out a moan and stroked his cock faster and harder, determined to make himself mindless. If he couldn’t resist, not tonight, then he might as well fucking enjoy.
And beat himself up for it later.
Nina arched her back, pushing her hips forward as she trailed delicate fingers around her swollen nub. He knew just how she liked to be sucked, how she begged and sobbed for his tongue to lave her there. Now, without him, she massaged herself with two fingers, slow and firm. He imagined his tongue doing that for her. Imagined her getting wetter against his beard. Then he all but throttled his own dick.
She brought down her other hand and pushed three fingers into her pussy without preamble.
“Fuccck.” The word was low and tight, rushing from James’s throat without permission. “Oh, my God—” he couldn’t bring himself to say her name again, to make this moment real. But inside his mind, he chanted Nina, Nina, Nina, as he watched her fuck herself. “Are you that wet, baby? Do you need it that bad?” He shouldn’t be asking her this, shouldn’t be talking to her at all. But he’d been right—she’d take his cock so fucking sweet, and never mind his size. She’d beg for it and writhe on it and love it. He should ask her. He should tell her. He should get up and fucking give it to her.
No. No. No.
Maybe later he’d come to his senses and realise that fairytale logic about touching the princess and speaking her name didn’t make a damn difference in the real world—that he’d fucked Nina from halfway across the room just as truly as if he’d shoved his dick inside her. But right now…
Right now, nothing was tearing him away from this.
“Yeah,” she moaned, spreading her legs wider, fucking herself deeper, rubbing her clit with almost frantic intensity. “Yeah, I need it. God, James.”
At the sound of his name on her lips, his cock jumped, and he felt a hot spurt of come against his belly.
“You look so fucking gorgeous,” Nina whispered into the silence. “I’m going to come so fast—”
James groaned and gave up fighting his own release. He embarrassed himself with his own orgasm, it was so long and so hard. He saw black, he saw stars, he saw Nina. He came all over himself, and it was so fucking satisfying he could barely regret it.
He opened his eyes in time to see Nina coming too, and he certainly didn’t regret that. Her moans were short, sharp little things that rose to a crescendo, her body shuddering, her fingers still working that greedy little pussy. “James,” she whispered, just for him, and the sound of it was a drug.
He’d never stood a fucking chance.
Chapter Five
“We’ve created an incident, Ms. Chapman,” the strawberry-blonde copper droned. Airey, he’d said his name was—not that James cared. The man had spent the last half hour asking Nina pointless questions that verged on rude and scribbling down her answers with a sceptical air. “Someone will be in touch about any further developments.”
James had kept his mouth shut throughout the whole, infuriating morning, but he wasn’t a fucking saint. He couldn’t let a complete dismissal slide. “Any further developments? This is an active threat. She was doxed yesterday, regardless of the fact that they got the wrong address. They know where she’s from. She’s receiving hate right now.”
The officer arched one pale brow, as if James had spoken nonsense instead of laying out facts. “Ms. Chapman has made it clear that, upon investigation, the address shared as hers was incorrect. Therefore, she was not doxed. We can’t just click our fingers and stop online harassment. There are procedures to be followed. In the meantime, have you tried blocking the perpetrators?”
James stared. “Have we tried. Blocking. The people. Who send. Death threats?”
Nina’s hand came to rest on his arm. “James—”
“Are you serious? That’s a question you’re seriously asking?”
The policeman’s expression hardened. “Please mind your tone when you speak to me, sir.”
James gritted his teeth and ignored the sly inflection. “A young woman comes in here fearing for her life, and you talk to her like a robot. No reassurances, no concern for her safety, nothing but taking notes and handing out incident numbers. And you want to talk about my tone?”
“James, that’s enough.” Nina shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor with a sound that rattled through the station. “I’m sorry, PC Airey. Thank you very much for your time.”
James took a deep breath, closed his eyes for the barest second—just long enough to regain his control.
He seemed incapable of holding it for long, when it came to this woman. But he had to try.
Especially after failing so epically last night.
“Right,” he said, standing up. “Apologies.” If the word sounded more like a knife than a genuine statement, that couldn’t be helped. What a load of bastards.
He caught Nina’s hand, though he wasn’t sure why—to comfort her, or to soothe himself? Maybe both. It was odd that her touch should still calm him, when in certain contexts it could drive him out of his mind, but he’d learned that that sort of duality was part and parcel of being in love with her. Today, he’d learned another aspect of being in love with Nina: it meant that he lost his fucking temper when people looked down on her. Lost his temper, as in, briefly considered throwing a chair at a police officer’s head.
“Well,” he burst out as they left the building. “That was a waste of time.”
“Told you,” she said mildly. She hadn’t let go of his hand. She was swinging it gently, like they were children, and the Nina Neuroses that ran constantly in the background of his mind wanted to know: Does that mean she’s forgotten all about the other night, is she really unaffected, does sex really mean—no, does sex with me really mean nothing to her, and why am I wondering about this when I already know the answer, and why the hell did I—
He turned away from the voice. Considering his current fury, it wasn’t hard. “They didn’t even care.”
“I know.”
Guarding Temptation: A Dirty British Novella Page 4
