by Hart, Lane
At least I didn’t think he did until I came up to the room to grab him for dinner.
“Are you ready to go eat?” I ask him when I step into the room. By the time the door shuts behind me, I find Nash slouching in his black tee and faded jeans with his legs spread wide in the same armchair he sat in for hours last night, silent, staring off into nothing. Tonight, he’s not just looking at me, he’s staring me down.
“How was the rehearsal?” he asks while his amber eyes trail up and down the front of my body.
“Fine.”
“Liar.”
“I hated every second of it,” I admit truthfully on a sigh. “Happy?”
“No.” Great. We’re back to one-word answers, which I hate. In fact, his voice has never been as stern with me as it is right now. He looks and sounds angry, more so than he was yesterday.
“Everything okay?” I ask in concern.
“No.”
“Well? What’s wrong?”
For a moment, I think he’s going to finally tell me about the dead men. Maybe he talked to Malcolm while I was gone, except I haven’t seen his cell phone since he got in my car. But then he answers me.
“What’s wrong is that…fucking…dress,” is his long, drawn out response.
My dress is what’s making him grumpy? Huh.
“Ah, yeah, this is the one I bought when we went shopping,” I say, glancing down self-consciously at the tight, red material squeezing my boobs out the top. I don’t have to look at the back to know that it’s also hugging the cheeks of my ass precariously, just an inch lower than indecent. The color of my cheeks probably matches my dress by now since there is that teeny tiny secret of spying on Nash’s computer, knowing he watched the woman in a red dress masturbating that I haven’t admitted to yet. It seemed small potatoes, compared to not telling him I’m related to his ex-wife.
“Sit down on the bed, Lucy,” Nash orders me.
Now he wants to talk? I don’t even care if we’re late for dinner. This is much more important. He’s going to finally open up and trust me.
I walk carefully across the room and start to carefully squirm up on the foot of the bed, but Nash stops me. “Not there. Sit on the side facing me.”
“Okay,” I reply, going around and hopping up on the mattress that’s so high my feet dangle a few inches off the floor. “Is here good?”
“Not yet,” is his response. “Lie back and spread your legs”
“W-what?” I ask, since I must have misheard him.
Nash just gives me a nod of his head. “Go on. If you’re wearing panties, take them off first. You know what I want to see.”
“I do?” I say in confusion.
“The mouse cursor moved and gave you away,” Nash says. “Since both of my hands were busy at the time, I knew someone else was accessing my laptop.”
“Oh, that,” I remark to myself and accidently say it aloud, freezing in my spot on the bed.
“Yeah, that,” he grits out, his jaw tight. “Were you watching me too?”
“No,” I quickly answer. “At least, not that time.”
“But other times…” he trails off.
“I couldn’t see anything, just your face and arm.”
“So you knew what I was doing?”
“Yes,” I answer feebly.
“Now it’s only fair I get to watch you to make us even.”
“Why didn’t you say something before?” I ask.
When Nash’s hand reaches down to pop the button and unzip his jeans, I think I’m going to overheat and combust right here on the bed.
“Maybe I liked being watched,” he says as his hand disappears down the front of his open jeans. While I can’t see for sure, I assume he fists himself when his eyelids go heavy and his jaw tightens. “Or maybe I wasn’t as horny as I am right now. Either way, I’m ready for you to even this score.”
“Even the score by watching me…touch myself.”
“Get yourself off,” Nash corrects. “We’re not leaving until you come, so you better get busy if you want to make it to dinner.”
I don’t have to ask to know that he’s serious. And without a doubt, I’m certain that if I can climax thinking about Nash jerking off, then I can most likely do it while he’s watching me. Based on the back and forth movements of his forearm, he’s definitely chasing his own release, which is hot as hell.
Without further persuading needed, I reach under my dress and start tugging my red satin panties down my legs. When I toss them to the floor, Nash snatches them up with his left hand before they hit the carpet. He rubs the material between his thumb and finger with a grunt. Apparently, he likes the texture; because the next second, he’s whipping his cock out of his jeans and wrapping the satin around his shaft. That’s all it takes to get me dripping wet while my clit throbs relentlessly.
Even though I want this to happen more than anything, that doesn’t mean I can look Nash in the eye while doing something so…personal. Instead, I lay back on the bed with my heels propped up on the bed frame and then drag my palm leisurely up the inside of my thigh until I’m touching my smooth flesh. My fingertips start with a little rub of my clit, but apparently that’s not good enough for Nash.
“Let me see how wet you are,” he directs, wanting me to penetrate myself. So, I close my eyes and do it. After only a few, slow pumps of my fingers, I can hear how wet I am, so I know Nash can too. “That’s it, baby. Keep fucking yourself just like that,” he groans, tacking on the term of endearment that makes my core pulse even harder. The heel of my hand rubs my clit with each movement, so it doesn’t take long before my hips are bucking to get more pressure, growing closer and closer until I finally topple over the edge of ecstasy, riding the waves of pleasure that have never felt as good as they do with Nash watching.
Except he’s no longer just an observer. I feel his wet tongue swipe across my fingers and pussy before I even know he’s moved, causing my body to jackknife on the bed in surprise. My upper body pops up to see with my own eyes, unable to believe what’s happening. But sure enough, Nash is kneeling beside the bed with his face between my legs, his tongue invading me, eating me up like a starving man.
“Oh god!” I moan as my fingers grab onto the bedsheets to hold on because my body has a mind of its own, thrusting toward the source of pleasure with no shame. Nash’s big hands wrap around both of my thighs, squeezing them and holding them down while his mouth continues its fervent attack on my pussy until I’m trembling and coming on his tongue in wordless screams that seem to go on forever.
When the room eventually stops spinning and my senses return, Nash’s hands drop from my thighs. I can feel the vibration of his deep, throaty groans as he comes in his hand, or my panties, while his frantic tongue licks up every last drop from me.
“Fuck, I needed that,” Nash says with a sigh of relief when his mouth slows and his lips press soft kisses on my pussy and work their way to my inner thigh while his palms stroke up and down the tops of my legs.
“Ah, yeah, me too. Thanks,” I agree as I stare up at the ceiling, my body still limp and relaxed while my brain races to try and catch up to what the hell just happened. Oh shit. Did I just thank him?
Before I can even hide my face in shame, Nash is back on his feet, standing between my legs while, unfortunately, zipping up his jeans without me getting to feel him inside of me. “You ready to go eat?” he asks with a smirk as he reaches up to swipe the back of his hand over his still glistening lips, removing the evidence of his most recent meal.
“Uh-huh,” I agree when I prop myself up on my elbows and pull my knees together.
“Need a minute?” he guesses, walking over to toss my now balled up and soiled panties in the trash can.
“Yes, please,” I reply as my face reddens to sunburn levels. Why did he jerkoff rather than just fuck me? It has to be obvious that I would’ve let him since I was spread wide in front of him. He could’ve done anything he wanted; and while I loved his mouth, I’m left
wanting more.
“I’ll wait for you in the hallway,” Nash tells me before he goes over and grabs his cut from the arm of the chair. He stands there holding it in his hands, staring down at it for a few seconds before turning to me again. “Guess I should leave my cut here,” he says, a statement not a question.
“What? Why?” I ask, finally able to sit all the way up with my legs hanging over the edge of the mattress, pushing aside the slight sting of rejection.
“Your whole family will be at dinner. Ellie always hated it when I wore it out to dinner.”
“Then that’s even more reason to wear it,” I tell him.
“Are you sure? You don’t mind?” he asks, his amber eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them when he turns to look at me.
“Why would I mind? The MC is a part of who you are. I’ve always known that. Wear it,” I encourage him. Everything I said is true, not to mention he looks damn good in it.
“Okay, I’ll wear it,” he says with a grin before he slips his arms through the black leather cut and walks out of the room.
After he leaves, I flop back on the bed for a moment to bathe in the happy pheromones a few more seconds before Nash and I have to go face the past…and my parents.
Chapter Twenty
Nash
* * *
As I pace quietly on the carpet in the hallway outside our hotel room, I try to figure out what the hell I was thinking.
This weekend with Lucy, I was supposed to keep my hands to myself and my needs in check.
But seeing how sexy she looked in that red dress, I couldn’t take it another second.
At least I didn’t fuck her, even though I wanted to.
God, I wanted to thrust inside of her tight, dripping wet pussy more than anything, but I settled for just tasting her while getting myself off.
Her sweetness is still right there on my lips, and her scent is still lingering in my facial hair. I’ll be damned if I wash it away any time soon.
I came so fucking hard in her panties that it’s a wonder I didn’t lose the ability to walk. Now that I’m no longer thinking with my dick, I’ll be able to handle the rest of the night, seeing my ex-wife all lovey-dovey with her soon-to-be husband and baby daddy.
Now that I’ve had time to adjust to everything, I’m just glad we never had kids together, or she probably would’ve up and left them with me to take care of on my own.
It’s really not fair that Ellie gets to have kids, but Lucy can’t. Between the two of them, I know Lucy would make a caring, loving mother, while Ellie will use her baby as an accessory, flaunting it when and where it suits her social life.
If anything, at least this weekend has not only provided me with much needed closure, but it’s nice to remember all the shit I hated about Ellie. Somehow, in my messed up, abandoned mind, I had forgotten how superficial she’s always been. Why did I ever think I loved her?
After several minutes, Lucy finally comes out of the room looking mostly put back together, even though her hair is still a little tousled from our unexpected romp.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yep,” she answers before she starts toward the elevator, weaving a little like a drunk because of her recent orgasms, the one she gave herself and then the one I’m responsible for.
She’s unusually quiet when we’re alone on the elevator ride to the main floor, and I’m not sure if it’s because she feels awkward after what we just did or if she’s dreading what’s to come. Maybe both.
“You sure you want to go to this dinner?” I ask. “Aren’t we already late?”
“Only by about five minutes,” she answers, biting back her smile.
“Just five minutes? Huh. Good thing you’ve got that hair-trigger pussy,” I joke as I watch the numbers change on top of the elevator panel as we go down.
From the corner of my eye, I see Lucy’s tongue wet her lips before she responds. “You and your hair-trigger cock went off pretty fast too,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Yeah, it did,” I agree with a grin just as the elevator doors open.
As Lucy mentioned, we make it to the dining room only a few minutes late. Surprisingly, the rest of the wedding party, mostly older relatives with a few same aged friends, don’t even bat an eye when we take a seat in front of her name card. There are several other empty seats, stragglers who haven’t arrived yet, so I simply slide the card next to hers with an unknown man’s name over to the chair next to the one I fold myself into. Sure, it will probably cause problems for whoever is the last to arrive, but I don’t give a fuck.
“So far so good,” Lucy whispers under her breath.
“Glad you two could finally join us,” Lucy’s mom says from several seats down where she’s sitting next to Lucy’s dad.
“Sorry, Mrs. Stafford. That was my fault,” I tell her. Her lips purse in disapproval of me, us, our tardiness, possibly all of the above, but she doesn’t say anything else.
The servers bring out appetizers of shrimp cocktail right away, followed by one delicious course after another.
Everyone is quietly talking to the neighbors beside them when the middle-aged woman across from us with a similar face and shape as Barry asks Lucy, “How is your recovery going, sweetheart?”
“It’s fine. I’m great. Never better,” Lucy responds in a rush before picking up and sipping on her glass of water, like she doesn’t want to talk about the c-word in front of me.
“You would never know that she’s been through such an ordeal just looking at her,” I comment while placing my palm on top of Lucy’s thigh and giving it a squeeze, my way of telling her I know and that I’m a little pissed she didn’t say anything to me about her fucking battle with cancer. She’s so incredibly strong and resilient after everything she’s been through, it makes me love her even more.
Goddammit! I’ve got to quit saying that shit, even in my own head.
When Lucy’s thighs clench together under the table, tightening around my pinkie that’s wedged between them, I start to feel a whole different way about her.
Who am I fucking kidding? There’s no way I can make it another night in bed with Lucy without getting inside of her. It’s as inevitable as the sun rising tomorrow. I’m an asshole for wanting her even knowing what the future holds, or how much it will hurt her when I’m locked up and she’s filled with regret. But I need her in a way I’ve never needed anyone before. Not even Ellie.
Speaking of the bride, all of the table conversations come to a sudden halt when Butterball Barry stands up and taps his fork to his champagne glass.
“Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment?” he asks. “Ellie and I just wanted to thank you all for making the trip for our special weekend. I also want to take a few moments to tell you about the incredible woman who is about to become my wife. I didn’t believe in love at first sight, not until the day I laid eyes on Ellie.”
Beside me, Lucy flinches. I feel it under my hand and see it from the corner of my eyes, telling me how much the asshole’s comments hurt her since Lucy was still obviously with Barry when he first saw Ellie. How could the dickhead be so insensitive?
Then, as if they hadn’t hurt Lucy enough, Ellie exclaims, “Oh my gosh!” grabbing everyone’s attention because apparently, she hasn’t had enough as the bride.
“What is it?” Barry asks, kneeling beside her frantically in concern, so wrapped around her finger it’s pathetic. “What’s wrong?”
“The baby kicks so hard when he hears you talk,” she says, taking his hand and placing it on her stomach. “Feel him?”
“Wow. That never gets old,” Barry says to the crowd before giving Ellie a kiss on the cheek. “I may have to keep you knocked up all the time,” he adds, making everyone chuckle. Well, everyone except for me and Lucy. The girl hasn’t moved or breathed in so long, I lean over and ask, “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head before pushing her chair back and muttering, “Excuse me,” to the table like anyo
ne is paying attention to her, and then she makes a run for the door.
“Lucy, wait up!” I call out, but she doesn’t slow down as I jump to my feet to follow her.
It’s a good thing she’s short. My long legs catch up quick enough to see a streak of red head out the resort’s back-patio doors and into the night.
When I slip out, I find her standing against the furthest wall overlooking the harbor, with her face buried in her arms that are resting on top of the bricks, her shoulders shaking as she cries.
“Fuck, baby,” I say softly at the sight of her in pain.
When I come to stop beside of her, rubbing my hand over her bare shoulders and upper back, I hear her say through her sobs, “I hate them! I hate that they have everything…everything I wanted!”
Lifting her head, she spins around to face me. My heart breaks at seeing the tears shining on her cheeks. “This whole time I’ve been blaming Ellie, but really, Barry is the one I’m angry with. He told me he loved me for years. Then, tonight, he talks about how it was love at first sight with her, while we were still together! Was he lying to me, or was it never real? I don’t know what happened, and it’s so infuriating! It’s like I was only good enough until someone better came along.”
“He’s a dick,” I tell her, reaching up to wipe away her tears with my thumb, unable to look at them a second longer. “And Ellie is not better than you. Her beauty is only skin deep, and it will fade over time. Yours is the kind that lasts a lifetime.”
My words meant to console have Lucy crying into her hands.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her close, resting my chin on top of her head as I hold her. “Can’t you see how fucking fake they are?” I ask. “None of that back there is genuine. It’s an act. A performance. Deep down, they know that and are miserable. That’s all they’ll ever be,” I assure her. “But you and me? That’s real. We are as authentic as it gets. You’re a firecracker. More hyper than a pixie on speed sometimes. And sneaky as shit with your secrets and hacker magic. But you’re also unbelievably sweet, smart as hell, and so fucking strong and beautiful that I can’t stop myself from falling for you no matter how hard I try.”
