by Vawn Cassidy
‘Just wait baby,’ I growl as I grab his hips, my fingers digging in so tightly they’re going to leave marks. ‘It gets so much better.’
‘Show me,’ he pants. ‘Don’t hold back. I want to feel it all.’
My self-control snaps with an almost audible ping as I draw my hips back and slam back into him, making him cry out.
‘Yes! Yes,’ Nat keens loudly. ‘Fuck me hard, Beck, make me yours.’
Fuck, it’s like a red mist. It goes from a slow glide to a brutal claiming. I hammer into him, fucking his arse like it’s the last day on earth and the world is coming to an end. He writhes on my dick panting and moaning as I curl over his back, forcing my cock inside him.
‘So good,’ I moan into his skin. ‘So fucking good.’
I lift one knee and change the angle, and he yells so loud, somewhere in the house my dog starts barking. He’s squirming desperately now as I ride his prostate. He’s absolutely wild for my cock, and it’s the sexiest fucking thing ever.
‘Oh my god, I’m so close,’ he cries out.
I reach around and wrap my fingers around his cock, fucking into his arse and letting the momentum force his wet dick through the tight ring of my fist.
‘Come now, Nat,’ I demand. ‘Come all over my fucking hand.’
With a yell of pained pleasure, his cock erupts in my hand, pulsing jets of scalding hot cum all over my fingers. His passage tightens like a vice around my dick, ripping my orgasm from me in a shocking wrench. A cry tears from my lips as I empty my balls deep inside him, and for a crazy wild moment, I wish I wasn’t wearing a condom so I could fill his arse with my cum, marking him in the most primal way.
We collapse to the sofa, a hot sweaty panting mess with my softening dick still buried inside him. My heart is pounding wildly in my chest like a jack hammer, and I know he can feel it against his back. I slide my hand underneath us, splaying my palm out across his chest and feeling his heart banging against my hand, and I hope that I’m not alone, that he feels just as undone as I do.
‘Is it always like that?’ he whispers.
My brow folds in confusion, and I reply quietly, ‘It’s never been like that for me before.’
‘Is it wrong that I’m glad?’ he asks.
‘No, baby.’ I kiss his shoulder sweetly as my stomach trembles, and I’m afraid I know exactly what it means. ‘It’s not wrong.’
I don’t want to move but knowing I need to before the condom starts leaking, I grab the edge of it and as slowly and gently as possible slide out of him, immediately missing his warmth. I know I need to go and dispose of the condom, but I want to take care of Nat first, I need to make sure he’s okay.
I reach down and gently massage his stretched hole.
He’s going to feel that tomorrow, and I wince, immediately feeling guilty. I’ve never lost control like that before; I’ve never been so desperate to be inside someone so deeply before.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks curiously.
‘Taking care of you,’ I reply softly. ‘You took quite a pounding. I’m so sorry,’ I mumble against his skin. ‘I shouldn’t have been so rough with you for your first time.’
‘Are you kidding? I feel fucking epic.’ He looks over his shoulder and grins at me.
‘You did take it like a champ.’ I smile a little smugly.
‘Yes, I did,’ he chuckles. ‘And I loved every second of it, Beck,’ he says softly. ‘If you were hurting me, I would have said something.’
I nod slowly, giving him a smile as I drop a tender kiss on his lips. ‘Be right back.’
I quickly climb off him and go to dispose of the condom, grabbing a damp towel on my way back, but as I step back into the room, I just pause and take in the beautiful man laid out on his stomach, reaching for the open bottle of Jack Daniels, holding it up to soft, swollen lips and taking a long swig.
He glances across the room and sees me, his face instantly lighting up as he rolls onto his back, sprawling out with the bottle in one hand and a contented sigh.
‘Oh my god, I feel so relaxed and decadent,’ he breaths.
‘You look more like Kate Winslet in Titanic.’ I smile.
He laughs and flings his arm above his head, assuming the pose as she did. ‘Jack,’ he says breathlessly. ‘I want you to paint me like one of your French girls.’
I laugh helplessly as I wander over to him, cleaning his body tenderly with the damp towel and wondering how he can turn me inside out one minute and make me laugh the next.
Standing up, I toss the towel to the floor, but Nat has other ideas, he grabs hold of me and pulls me down so I’m sitting, then he slings his leg over me so he’s straddling my lap naked, still holding the bottle.
Our dicks lay snuggled against my stomach, framed by his dark nest of curls, and incredibly, my cock gives a little interested twitch. Nat lifts the bottle to his lips again and tilts his head back, and I watch the ripple of his throat muscles in fascination as he swallows.
‘Do you want to know a secret,’ he whispers against my mouth as I stare down at his swollen bee stung lips.
‘What,’ I murmur, completely bewitched by him.
‘Just knowing that you’ve had your cock in my arse is making me horny.’ He smiles slowly.
My dick jerks against his, stirred by his words and the lush carnality of him sitting naked in my lap, all rosy and debauched. I watch as he lifts the bottle of Jack to his lips and takes a long pull, then he grasps my jaw in his fingers, opening my mouth as he allows the liquid to pour from his mouth into mine before sealing his lips over mine and thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I swallow feeling the burn of the whiskey down to my stomach as I grab the firm globes of his arse cheeks in my hands, pulling him in closer to kiss him hotly.
Finally, he pulls back and drags in a loud breath.
‘Do you know what we’re going to do, baby?’ He gives me a teasing smile, and my stomach clenches at the endearment rolling off his tongue. ‘We’re going to get blind drunk and make each other come all night long.’
‘Now, that’s a plan I can totally get behind.’ I grin as I take his mouth again.
Chapter Nineteen
Beck
When it comes to art, everyone’s a critic…
I blink slowly, my eyes feeling like they’re full of grit. My body feels clammy in the early morning summer heat, tempered slightly by the cool breeze coming in off the sea through the open folding glass doors. Which I’d been too drunk to remember to close last night… or this morning, I’m not sure which.
I breathe in the scent of brine and summer… and Nat. He’s lying flat out on his stomach, his arm and one of his legs trailing off the edge of the sofa as he gives a cute snore. I’m laying half across his back, the side of my face nestled between his shoulder blades.
I hum contentedly and turn my head, pressing a kiss to his soft skin, breathing in the scent of my warm sleepy lover. He slept here last night, and the thought did not go unnoticed, and honestly, I can’t bring myself to worry about what it means.
I’ve decided to go with one hundred percent pure avoidance. I’m not going to think about feelings or complications or where this is going. I just want to spend as much time as I can with Nat while he lets me. I’ll deal with the aftermath when the shit inevitably hits the fan, and it will. I know it as surely as I know the sun is going to rise. Sooner or later, the past Nat is running from is going to catch up with him. The question is, is he going to stand and face it, or is he going to cut and run again.
All I can do is try to protect my own heart because I know for certain now, that I’m pretty much almost crazy stupid in love with him. I’m holding back desperately, clinging onto that cliff edge for dear life, but the truth is, it wouldn’t take much more than a faint breeze to send me tumbling straight into full blown, hand you my heart and let you stomp on it, love.
I find myself letting out a quiet, resigned sigh. Will I never learn? Why do I always go for the complicated ones?
Because it’s Nat, that’s why, and my mouth twists into a rueful smile. Like I ever had a choice. I was lost from the moment I pulled him from the sea and those baby blues locked on me. Cupid didn’t just hit me with an arrow that day, he pretty much clubbed me to death with the damn bow too.
I press my face into Nat’s skin and breathe him in again. I love the scent of him, sandalwood, and a light sheen of sweat, overlaid by something darker, earthier. The scent of sex, the scent of me on his gorgeous body.
I hum in pleasure as I slide my hand down underneath his torso, skimming over his ribs, down his flat stomach.
‘Forget it, Casanova,’ Nat mumbles hoarsely into the cushions, his voice deliciously gravelly from sleep, alcohol and many, many orgasms. ‘I couldn’t get it up right now with good intentions, scaffolding, and a blessing from the Pope.’
I chuckle against his skin, unable to stop myself from kissing the tiny little freckle on his shoulder. ‘I can’t help it,’ I rumble against his back. ‘You’re like the equivalent of sex heroin. I’m hopelessly addicted to you.’
I feel his body shift as he laughs quietly.
‘You sore, baby?’ I ask softly.
‘Yes.’ He grins, his eyes still closed. ‘You stuck your dick in me twice last night.’
I close my eyes and feel a hot flush sweep across my body, my cock twitching involuntarily against his warm thigh as flashbacks of him last night sitting naked in my lap as he slid down on my throbbing dick and rode us both to a wild alcohol fueled, soul destroying orgasm.
I groan loudly at the thought of him riding me. ‘Stop teasing me.’ I bite his shoulder lightly. ‘And to be fair, I can’t be blamed for the second time, you didn’t exactly give me much choice.’ I grin. ‘I feel so used.’
‘I didn’t hear you saying no.’ He rolls over, smiling widely as I snuggle closer to him. ‘In fact, if I recall correctly, it was more like, ‘Yes! Fuck me harder, Nat!’, and I also recall you taking the lords name in vain, more than once… for shame.’
I can feel the stupid smile on my face as I lean in and kiss his lips gently. ‘Morning,’ I murmur.
His smile falters slightly. ‘I’m sorry I fell asleep. I meant to go back to the B&B.’
‘Hey.’ I grasp his chin and lift his face, no longer caring about a stupid boundary that makes absolutely no sense. ‘I want you here with me.’
‘Really?’ His eyes widen, and I nod, watching him as he lifts his hand, tracing the shape of my mouth, tugging the skin lightly with his thumb.
I catch his hand in mine and place a kiss to his palm, and his gaze snags on my fingers.
‘Beck.’ He frowns. ‘Why are your hands covered in paint?’ He glances down at the red, blue, and gold smears on his chest. ‘Why am I covered in paint?’
‘You don’t remember?’ I laugh as I prop my head on my hand, tracing my other hand across his chest lazily as I lean over him.
‘Remember what?’
‘You wanted me to paint you last night,’ I remind him in amusement. ‘You were very insistent.’
‘I was?’ He frowns, trying to remember. His gaze sweeps the room, and he sees the easel set up, and on it is a large canvas facing away from us, and the table beside it is littered with brushes and oil paints.
‘It’s no good.’ He decides as I shift off him, and he swings his legs over the side of the sofa. ‘I have to look.’ He grabs the sweatpants off the floor and pulls them on with me ogling his perfectly rounded arse shamelessly.
He pads across the floor and rounds the easel, and the look on his face is priceless. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. He brings his hands to his face, pressing his fingers either side of the bridge of his nose, steepling his hands across his nose and mouth in the way I’ve learned he does when he’s embarrassed.
‘Oh my god.’ His words muffled by his hands.
I roll off the sofa, wrapping the throw around my naked body as I cross the floor and stand behind him, tucking the throw around us both and nestling my chin into the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.
‘I think I’ve captured your best features, what do you think?’
‘What do I think? What do I think?’ His voice rises incredulously. ‘Oh my god, paint some bloody clothes on me, you utter twat.’
I chuckle deeply as I stare down at my handiwork.
I recreated the scene from Titanic with Nat laying saucily reclined on the sofa, his beautiful eyes filled with mischief. He’s coiling one hand demurely by his cheek, and the other is gripping a bottle of Jack Daniels. Round his neck is the deep blue Heart of the Ocean necklace from the film, and he is completely, totally, and gloriously naked… and sporting a giant erection.
‘Oh, for the love of god,’ he groans covering his face again. ‘Paint a fig leaf on me, or at the very least a smiley face emoji.’
‘Honey,’ I rumble against his neck in amusement. ‘There isn’t a fig leaf in the world big enough to cover that monster.’
‘Well, as flattering as that may be, you can’t leave me like that…. Oh my god! What if your mum sees it?’ He blushes bright red.
‘That’s not going to happen.’ I pull his hands from his face and turn him in my arms so he’s looking at me. ‘I’m the only one who comes in here, well, and you too.’ I wiggle my eyebrows, and he lets out an involuntary laugh.
‘Stop it.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s too damn early for double entendrés, and my head is killing me.’
I brush my lips against his. ‘Would it make you feel better if I painted a censored sticker on it.’
‘Yes.’ He pouts sulkily, and I kiss his lips again, unable to disguise how much he delights me.
‘You hanging, baby?’ I murmur, pushing his hair back tenderly from his face.
‘So bad.’ He sighs. ‘Why aren’t you hungover? It’s not fair. It feels like there’s an entire hundred-piece orchestra warming up in my brain, and every one of their instruments is out of tune.’
‘Honestly?’ I reply. ‘I think I’m still a bit drunk, and it’ll probably hit me later when I sober up.’
He groans again as he tucks his face into my neck. ‘My head hurts,’ he mutters. ‘Whose idea was it to get drunk?’
‘Yours,’ I remind him, rubbing his back. ‘Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll get you some painkillers.’
‘Are you going to join me in the shower?’ he asks hopefully.
‘Of course.’ I smile.
I watch as he heads out of the studio, feeling a warm sensation in my belly. It’s contentment I realise as I sling the throw back on the sofa and pick up my jeans, sliding them on. I head into the kitchen, closing the door to the studio behind me so Ursula doesn’t get in. Lately, she’s taken to eating the clay, and then ends up throwing it up in the most inconvenient places for me to have to clean.
I’m just reaching for the painkillers in the cupboard when Ursula trots into the room and stretches with a loud yawn.
‘Hey, girl,’ I mutter affectionately, stroking her ears the way she likes. ‘You hungry?’
Given the fact that she’s dragging her food bowl across the floor toward me, I’m going to take that as a yes. I refill her water bowl and feed her hurriedly, knowing that Nat is upstairs all naked and wet, and soapy.
I’m just picking up the glass of water and packet of painkillers when there’s a knock at the door.
‘Dammit.’ I frown, setting the glass back down and strolling into the hallway, I yank the door open in annoyance.
The first glimpse I have is of a woman with her back to me as she looks out at the view across the bay, she’s slim and curvy in all the right places, as far as I know. She’s wearing a conservative sheath dress in navy blue, and her tiny feet are tucked into a pair of nude Louboutin’s I note, as I catch a flash of the signature red soles.
She turns as I open the door, and I get a proper look at her. She’s wearing an expensive set of pearls around her neck to match the subtle ones at her ears, and she has a Hermes bag hooked el
egantly over one wrist. I have two sisters, and as much as I hate to admit it, I know enough to recognise some serious labels.
Her long black, wavy hair is tucked into a neat twist at the nape of her neck without a single hair out of place. She’s beautiful, like could be a model kind of beautiful, but it’s her pale blue eyes that catch my attention. I know those eyes; an identical pair are currently in my hideous green coloured bathroom suite taking a shower.
My mouth falls open slightly, and now that I’m looking, I can see traces of my lover etched into her face. The same bee-stung lips, the same high cheek bones, and slim straight nose. They could be twins if it wasn’t for the three-year age gap, I know there is between them.
‘Hello.’ She gives a distant and polite smile. She has that same posh inflection to her voice that Nat does. ‘I’m looking for my brother, Nathan. They told me at the restaurant he might be here.’
‘You’re Pia,’ I say softly.
Her eyes widen, and she draws in a slow, shocked breath as if she hasn’t heard that name in a long time.
‘He told you about that?’ she says quietly in surprise.
‘Come in.’ I hold the door open wider as she steps gracefully into the hallway. I’m painfully aware that while she looks immaculate, I’m only wearing a pair of jeans. My hair probably looks like a bird’s nest, I have paint all over my hands, and I probably stink of JD and sex. ‘Um, Nat is just…’
‘Hey, I thought you were going to join me in the shower?’ Nat calls out in amusement, interrupting me as he heads down the stairs, rubbing his hair dry on a towel. ‘I was going to suck your…’ He looks up, and the words die on his lips, eyes widening as he freezes on the last step, blinking as if he can’t quite reconcile what he’s seeing.
Although he didn’t finish that sentence, thankfully, I’m pretty sure he’s just outed himself to his sister. I’m torn between amusement and concern.
I turn back to stare at Pia as her gaze trails over Nat’s damp naked body wrapped only in a towel.
‘I suppose I should at least be grateful you’re wearing a towel.’ Her mouth twitches, and her eyes sparkle with humor, and right there, in that expression, I see my Nat.
