by Kelly, A. S.
I slide into his car, closing the passenger door behind me.
“No sneaking around tonight?” he asks me.
“Dad’s out.”
“You’re never going to tell him, are you?”
“I just want to enjoy all this for a little longer – before my dad smashes it all to pieces.”
Nick laughs, shaking his head. “I’m sure I can defend myself against your dad.”
“Not once he finds out what you’re doing to his little girl. Not even all the O’Connor confidence in the world could save your golden arse cheeks, then.”
He leans closer to me, brushing against my earlobe with his lips. “And you have no idea what I’m still planning to do to his little girl.”
His words slide right under my skin.
“Come on then, let’s go. What are you waiting for?”
He smiles against my ear, before pressing his hot lips against my neck. Then he pulls away, places his hands on the steering wheel and backs out of the driveway, heading towards the main road.
Nick drives with his eyes fixed in front of him, while I can’t help but slide my eyes over him, drinking in every little detail. His hands, gripping the wheel, the firm, tense muscles of his arms; the metal bracelets he wears around his wrists. Then I lift my gaze to his strong, broad shoulders, tugging at the fabric of his light shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His perfect profile, that beard that… Jesus, why didn’t he let that beard grow out sooner? And that look he has: the one that tells me that I’m ruined, that I can’t stop myself. And that I don’t want to.
I force myself to look out the window instead, trying to cool down the heart rising through my body, when I realise that Nick has pulled up in a residential area. He turns to me as he parks outside an apartment block, wordlessly opening the driver door and stepping outside. I do the same.
“Where are we?”
He smiles cheekily at me. “At my apartment.”
“You’ve brought me to your apartment?”
“It’s as good a place as any.”
I cross my arms. “This looks like an obvious attempt to get me into bed, O’Connor.”
“Oh, no, Casey. You’ll be the one jumping into my bed,” he says, coming closer to me and taking my hand. “Come on. Let me show you my humble abode.”
* * *
His ‘humble abode’ is at the top of the building. It’s a penthouse apartment, circled by an outdoor terrace. It has a huge, elegant living room which houses a large leather sofa; a dining table sits just in front of the main window, with a view across the whole of Northwood, with its lakes and fountains.
“‘Humble abode’ my arse!”
He shrugs indifferently. “It’s just a house. You’ll never believe me, but it was already furnished like this when I moved in.”
“So you don’t own it?”
“Nah, I just needed somewhere to stay for a while.”
“I get it,” I say, bitterness creeping into my voice.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, noticing that my mood has dipped.
“Nothing,” I lie. I definitely don’t want to tell him that I’m worried he’s just stopping by – that sooner or later, he’ll want a new adventure, in a new place. And he’ll probably leave me behind again.
“You’re a bad liar, you know.”
“I’m hungry,” I say, trying to mask the sadness I know I’m projecting.
He smiles. “That, we can take care of. Come here,” he says, gesturing for me to follow him into the kitchen. This room, too, is elegant, refined – a little too refined for someone like him. The furniture is all cold, smooth edges, with dark marble blanketing every surface. It’s perfectly polished, as if it’s never been used. There’s a double fridge – the kind usually reserved for massive families. Everything is perfect, sleek and clean. Untouched, impersonal. As if its owner doesn’t want to leave a trace.
As if he were ready to leave.
“Do you like it?” he asks me. He must’ve realised that I was scrutinising my surroundings.
“Of course. It’s very you.”
He doesn’t take the bait.
“I set the table out on the terrace. It’s a nice evening, so I thought we’d make the most of the view while we eat.”
“That sounds great.”
He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine, popping the cork before grabbing two glasses. He pours, handing me a generous glass.
“Go and sit down. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve actually cooked?”
“Of course! I spent all day in the kitchen. It’s all ready, I just need to heat it up before I bring it over.”
He opens one of the three ovens and pulls out a dish. “It’s still hot. I only switched the oven off before I came to pick you up.” He puts something into a bowl, then hands it to me. “You can take this outside, if you want.”
“Don’t tell me you made this, too?” I ask, the smell of garlic bread wafting towards me.
“One of my many hidden talents,” he says suggestively, lowering his voice; and I’m surprised to find that I want to discover all of his talents, before he disappears again.
* * *
Nick joins me out on the terrace, where I was taking in the view, enjoying the crisp evening air. Inside the apartment, music began to drift outside, accompanying his dark, seductive form as he moved towards me.
Wow, he even has a soundtrack. He must’ve planned tonight down to every tiny detail.
“Put this on,” he says, draping a jacket over my shoulders.
“I’m not cold.”
“Your shoulders are uncovered, and the air will get pretty chilly, soon.”
“So thoughtful of you.”
“I know who I’m dealing with here,” he says accusingly, taking his seat opposite me. “And I know how much you love meat, so… I’ve made a lasagne. There are different types of meat in the Bolognese, and mozzarella, tomato sauce, béchamel…”
“Impressive.”
“Good,” he says, pleased with himself.
“When did you learn to cook?” I ask, shoving the first forkful into my mouth. “Oh my God,” I say, as soon as the meat hits my tongue. “You’re actually pretty good!”
“Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”
“You know that I’d have been happy with a few burgers chucked under the grill, right?”
Nick laughs, shaking his head. “I know, but I wanted to do something different.”
I smile, taking a sip of my wine.
“There’s dessert, too.”
“No way.”
“Yep. Bailey’s cheesecake.”
“Oh, fuck. I could come at the thought of it.”
Nick coughs loudly, almost choking on his wine.
“You okay?”
“Fantastic,” he says, clearing his throat. “But it’s best if you don’t say things like that – at least not while I’m trying to eat.”
“Don’t be such a wimp,” I say, teasing him.
“Jesus, Casey. I’ve been hard since I kissed you in my parents’ hallway yesterday. And I know that you’ve been thinking about it, too.”
I feel my body immediately go up in flames, heat rising from between my legs.
God, Nick. You have no idea how I feel right now.
“Maybe that was too honest,” he says, downing his entire glass of wine. “But the truth is that I’ve actually been hard since you first stepped foot in my parents’ house, wearing that bloody T-shirt.”
“Which one?”
“The one about wearing no underwear. Fuck, Casey – every time I look at you, I always wonder whether or not you’re wearing any.”
I burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“There you go. He’s back.”
He looks at me confusedly, deep lines etched into his forehead.
“Now you’re my Nick.”
44
Nick
Her Nick.
Now I’m the one who’s about to come. I want to throw her down on top of this table, pull her on top of me, and show her what it really means to be hers.
“I’m always like this,” I say, defending myself – or, at least, trying to defend myself.
“Sometimes you hide yourself away when you do things like this,” she says, gesturing to the food spread out on the table. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it, and it was a really nice surprise, but you don’t need to use your moves on me.”
“Oh, no?”
She shakes her head.
“Does this mean my charm is enough?” I say, winding her up.
“I mean, sure, the lasagne was a taste explosion…”
“Please, stop there. Or I’ll have to rip that useless dress from your body, and then you’ll have to wander around naked.”
She laughs again. She always laughs at my shit jokes – even at the worst ones – and I know that she isn’t just doing to impress me, like other women do. She does it because she genuinely appreciates it. I think she’s the only person who really finds it funny, with no hidden agenda.
“I’ve decided to be on my best behaviour. We won’t do anything until we’re eaten everything. Dessert included.”
“Let me help you carry this through to the kitchen, then,” she says, getting up. “That way we’ll be finished quicker.”
Holy shit.
* * *
Casey piles the plates on the counter, next to the sink. “Weird,” she says, looking around her.
“What?”
“You said you cooked all this.”
“Y-yeah.”
“Mmm… How come the kitchen’s so spotless? It’s like no one has cooked in here for weeks; or like they’ve never cooked here at all.”
“What? No, I don’t know what you’re on about. I cleaned up before you came.”
Casey leans her hip against the counter, as I pull the dessert out from the fridge and put it down next to her.
“Is that why that plate has Red Cherry written across it?” she says, pointing to the cheesecake.
Fucking Ryan. I’m going to shove this plate down his throat. Or maybe up his…
“Nick.”
I scoff. “Fine, I had a little help.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“Ian cooked. He brought everything over before I came to pick you up. And the dessert’s from Chris’ café.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to do something nice for you. But, as usual, I’ve just ended up proving to you how much of a dickhead I am.”
Casey steps closer, taking my chin in her fingers and lifting my gaze from the floor.
“Were you trying to impress me?”
“Maybe a little…”
“That’s really sweet, Nick.”
I shrug.
“It’s sexy, too.”
Just the sound of her voice sends a jolt of electricity running through me.
“Oh, yeah?” I push her against the counter. I place my hands either side of her body and breathe onto her lips.
“You know what’s really sexy?”
She shakes her head.
“Spending all this time imagining what’s under that dress of yours. And since you got in my car, I haven’t taken my eyes off your dress, wondering what colour your underwear is.”
“Maybe I’m not wearing any.”
“Maybe,” I say, exhaling deeply.
She laughs, totally at ease with the idea of the dickhead that I really am.
“Maybe you should find out,” she continues, pressing her body up against mine.
“Casey…”
“What?”
“I haven’t just brought you over here for this. It’ll happen anyway, but that’s not the point.”
“I thought you couldn’t wait to show me all your hidden talents?”
“Fuck, yes – and I will. I won’t keep a single one hidden from you.”
“Then why not start right now? I imagine we’ll have a lot to get through. It might take a while for you to show me them all.”
She slides her hands down my arms, my muscles tensing at her touch – apart from one muscle, which has been tense for a pretty long time, already.
Her hands climb back up to my chest, her palms running across the fabric of my shirt.
“Casey…” I bend my head to brush my lips against hers.
“You seem agitated.”
“I am.”
“Don’t tell me that having me here makes you anxious?”
“The only thing I’m anxious about is finding out how wet you are.”
“Do it, then.”
I grab her butt cheeks and sit her on the countertop. “There’s a flame inside me, Casey – it’s burning me alive, consuming my skin.”
Casey opens her legs instinctively, wrapping them around my waist. “Let me burn with you, Nick.”
I run my hands up her thighs, under the hem of her dress, and along the small of her back.
I snap my hands away, suddenly. “Fuck! You’re seriously not wearing any!”
She laughs, satisfied. “I told you, but you didn’t believe me.”
“Why the fuck aren’t you wearing any underwear?”
“Because sometimes it’s unnecessary.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I tell her, before sliding my hands back to her arse, squeezing so hard that I leave finger-marks in her flesh. Casey throws her head back, letting my run my tongue along the length of her body, feeling her shiver under my touch, waiting for my next move. I trace her shoulder, her neck, her ear, then return to her mouth. I don’t kiss her – that wouldn’t do justice to everything I want to do to her; I eat her, as if she were my favourite meal – because now, she really is. And I never want to taste anything else again. Casey grabs onto my shoulders and tightens her legs around my hips, as I keep invading her, exploring her mouth with my tongue, pushing as deep as I can. I don’t want her to breathe anything but me.
I lift her up, keeping her clutched to me, our tongues never breaking contact; I carry her through to my bedroom and let her slide her feet to the floor.
“Wow, you were serious about your bed,” she says, her lips reddened.
“Obviously.”
“We could’ve kept going out there, you know.”
“No, I need the bed.”
“I didn’t have you down for a ‘comfort’ kind of guy.”
“I’m not. But I can’t do everything I want to do to you on a kitchen counter. I’ve been waiting eight long years to have you all to myself. I need to explore every inch; tonight, there’s not a single part of your body that won’t be mine.”
45
Casey
If I was wearing any underwear, it would be around my ankles by now. Just the tone of his voice, his words – those eyes. They’re telling me that Nick is a man who intends to keep his promises: and I want to experience all of them.
Eight years was a long time for me, too.
He moves confidently, as if he’s about to go in for the kill, pulling me down onto the end of the bed. I sit there, my legs giving way, as he places a knee on the mattress, pushing me back with his body. He rests his hands on the bed, leaning over me – the look in his eyes is enough to make me come right here. Because Nick O’Connor’s eyes say it all. His gaze is pure lust; it speaks to you, strips you bare, kisses you all over and makes you his own. I’m sure they could give you an orgasm just like that.
He lowers himself down to me, his breath tickling my face, his tongue tracing the line of my lips. I part them, responding to his call, but Nick doesn’t kiss me. He bites down, one lip at a time, tugging at them with his teeth without pausing even for a glance. Those eyes have become my own personal hell.
I wriggle underneath him, impatient to feel his tongue inside me, on top of me; I want to suffocate under his kisses. I move around on the mattress and he laughs. He’s really enjoying this, and he hasn’t even taken my dress off yet.
I’ll never come out alive.
His hands seek out mine, lifting my arms above my head and pinning them down. He leans down to me again and, this time, his tongue invades me, taking away every regret I’ve ever felt towards him in the past eight years: all the nostalgia, the tears, the memories.
He’s erasing it all in one night. He’s erasing me and everything I ever was without him.
He loosens his grasp, trailing his fingers slowly down my arms, towards my breasts. He takes them in his enormous hands, squeezing tightly as he bites at them through the fabric of my dress. I arch my back and a moan escapes me – I want to feel those hands sliding over my skin. I’m scared that I’ve already forgotten his touch, and I’m desperate to feel it again.
His fingers fiddle with the buttons which line the front of my dress. The first two slip apart, achingly slowly, but then I see him become agitated, his breathing growing faster as the dress falls open completely, my naked body exposed to his gaze. His eyes darken like the night sky, his hands grasping immediately for my breasts.
His hot skin sets mine alight as his fingers play with my nipples. He can’t stop looking at me, filling himself with the sight of me and everything he’d been waiting for these past eight years; even though he packed his bags and flew as far away as possible.
My body is back in the hands of the only man I’ve ever wanted.
He lowers his mouth to my breasts, squeezing them as his beard scratches against my skin. I’m having to seriously hold back my orgasm just from the friction of his face on my breasts. Then he takes my nipples between his lips, one by one, as my body moves desperately underneath his, ready to fall to the ground with desire before the sun is up.
He looks at me again, flashing me one of those smiles that sends women crazy, before circling my nipple with his tongue, enjoying the pure ecstasy painted across my face.
This isn’t hell: this feels like heaven.
He takes my nipple between his lips, closing his mouth around it and sucking. His hot, moist mouth, his scratching teeth, his hand clasped around my other breast, the pressure of his body; I start to lose my senses, any reason abandoning me immediately. I feel my excitement grow, and push my legs apart. Nick slips down my body at the sight of my parted legs, pressing his erection against my clit. I can feel it, even through the denim of his jeans.
