the base of my throat while my fingers explore every sculpted inch of Nash’s body above me. Mapping, reminiscing, savoring. I’m shocked by how much I remember. The scar on his back from a bike accident when he was a kid. The tiny birthmark on his shoulder. The inked, intricate tattoos along his right shoulder, which now extend the full length of his arm.
Fumbling, I untie the string closure of his board shorts, yanking them down his hips. He slips them off before kneeling between my legs again, heavy erection digging into my lower stomach as he covers my lips with his. I’m soaking and aching, expecting him to take me. Instead, he breaks away and presses his mouth to my neck, then my collarbone, leisurely working down to the swell of my breasts.
Soft, dark hair brushes my bare skin as he travels lower, worshipping every inch of my bare torso before landing on my hip. Nibbling and biting, he soothes away the sting with his tongue, marking my skin with his kisses.
Moving inward, his stubble scratches my upper thighs, then my lower stomach. The pulse between my legs flutters as I squirm beneath him, desperately waiting and wanting, nearly out of my mind with need. His tongue drags along the sensitive skin of my inner leg, nearly reaching the apex of my thighs, and reality comes crashing back down.
“I was in the pool,” I protest, sitting up on my elbows and scooting back slightly. “I haven’t even showered.”
Then again, this is the guy who used to feast on me like a five-course meal after I came home from the gym, sweaty Lululemon gear and all. He also regularly went down on me after sex without a second thought.
Nash cocks an eyebrow, a glint of reprimand in his eyes. “Are you safe-wording me?”
“No.” I fall back against the pillow, breath snagging as he dips a finger into my soaking heat, dragging it across my clit. Oh, that’s good. My toes curl with ecstasy, all thoughts vacating my brain. The next words come out on a sigh of pleasure. “Not—at all.”
“Then give me your pussy, Violet.”
Eyes locked onto his, I nod slowly, too consumed by the heavy ache low in my belly to argue any further. His strong hands grip my thighs, parting my legs to him, and heated, primal desire stretches across his face.
“So perfect.” He traces my slit, watching my pelvis tilt, greedily seeking more.
My self-consciousness melts away as he teases me with soft kisses and not-so-soft scrapes of his teeth, grazing my pubic bone and outer edges, deliberately avoiding where I want him most. Heated breath rolls across my skin, promising of more without delivering. Each additional second is torture, my core throbbing with need until it’s almost too much to bear.
Finally, his mouth closes over my swollen bundle of nerves and I jolt, crying out. He dives in, caressing me in a decadent pattern of swipes and flicks, taking me higher and easing me down like an endless rollercoaster of pleasure. He isn’t doing this because he thinks he should. This is a man devouring me because he gets off on getting me off—and it shows.
My hands sink into his damp hair, tugging at the roots to pull him against me, and a low, primal hum of approval vibrates in his chest as he continues to ravage me with precise, skillful strokes of his tongue. Needy whimpers escape the back of my throat, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle them. I can’t remember whose hotel room is next door to mine. Hell, I don’t know my own name. All I can do is try to be quiet, but he’s not making it easy. He’s relentless and demanding, somehow dominating me even with his face buried between my legs.
In no time at all, I’m hovering on the brink and desperate for release. My hips begin to sway instinctively, and he plunges two fingers inside my soaking entrance, demolishing me with a renewed intensity. His fingers curl up and press against the perfect spot, sending me through the stratosphere. Overcome by the sensation, my back arches, and the movement pulls my body away from him. He growls and roughly yanks me back down, wrapping his other arm around my thigh to lock me in place against his face.
Incandescent pleasure ebbs and flows, each peak higher than the last, until I reach the summit and fall to pieces. A sob slips through my lips, my body trembling beneath him. Just when I think it’s too much, he wrenches another wave of euphoria out of me with his mouth, wringing me out until I’m completely spent.
Nash eases me down slowly, kissing back up my body and trailing his lips along my neck, smiling against my shoulder. “Your pussy tastes even better than I remembered, especially when you come. You should sit on my face next time, though. I miss that view.”
“You have such a dirty mouth.”
“That’s not new.” A cocky smirk plays on his lips. “And you like it.”
“Maybe.” I shift, widening my legs so he can settle between them, desperate for our bodies to connect. Frantic need thrums through my veins, heating my skin. All I want is to have him inside me, filling me, stretching me, pounding me until he’s so deep I feel him everywhere.
He kneels between my parted thighs, gripping my upper leg in one hand and fisting the base of his thick shaft with the other. “Did you miss my cock?”
“You know I did.”
Brow furrowed in concentration, he presses the tip against my slick entrance, watching my reaction. I fist the sheets and squirm against him, trying to meet him halfway, but he pulls back. A low rumble reverberates in his chest as he rubs my clit with the head of his cock, sending another tremor through my core.
“Condom,” he murmurs, watching himself push inside the slightest fraction of an inch. My body begs for him to keep going, but he stops.
“I don’t have any,” I admit. This wasn’t exactly planned. “I’m still on birth control, but . . .”
Nash leans on one forearm and hovers over me, his expression sobering. His fingertip ghosts across my cheek, brushing my lips. There are a million things written across his face: fondness and admiration, desire and lust, even a hint of protectiveness.
“I’ve never done that with anyone else, Vi. And I haven’t been with anyone since we got tested during our physicals at the start of the season, so I know I’m clean. But I’m not going to pressure you into anything.”
“I haven’t done that with anyone else, either. I trust you.”
He glances up at the ceiling like he’s praying. “Thank fuck.” His gaze lands back on me with a wicked grin, and my heart skips with anticipation.
Our eyes stay locked as he slams inside me in a single, brutal thrust. My nails bite into his shoulders, and I cry out at the sudden loss of space, pleasure mingling with a hint of pain. He’s not small—in any department—and I’m not used to his size anymore.
“Sorry, Petal.” Forehead pressed to mine, he stills, buried inside of me from base to tip, his girth stretching me even more than I remembered. It’s a snug fit that fills me completely, bringing us skin to skin, as close as we can possibly be.
“Ease me in a little before you rail me.”
“I will.” Nash claims my lips with another kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth, coaxing the tension from my body. My walls relax around him, and we both groan as he starts to rock against me, the head of his cock nudging that perfect spot. This time, it’s all pleasure, no pain.
Wave after wave of sheer bliss crashes over my body, slowly melding together into a blur of euphoria. This. This is all I want. In this moment, I don’t care about the past, the future, or what I’m risking. If it means having him, I’ll do it ten times over.
He pulls out slowly, driving back in with a thrust that’s expertly angled to hit exactly where I need him. My eyelids flutter shut, head tipping back against the pillow. I haven’t been properly fucked in as long as I can remember. Actually, I can remember—it was the last time I was with him.
“Christ, Vi. Has your pussy always felt this good?” He clenches his jaw, watching himself sink inside, abdominal muscles rippling with each thrust. “I think it was made for my cock.”
Too overwhelmed by another rapidly approaching climax, my only reply is a breathy moan.
When he kisses me again, it’s needy; rough. I meet his every thrust, nails raking down his back while he angles his mouth against mine, biting and tasting. He palms my thighs and lifts me off the bed, plowing into me, rubbing against my clit with every undulation.
I cinch my calves around his waist, frenzied with need. “Oh, God.”
His palm connects against my ass with a smack, strong hand kneading away the sting before gripping me even harder, guiding me up and down on him. “God’s not here.”
It’s too much, not enough, and everything I need all at once. My eyes squeeze shut, fingertips digging into his shoulders. Pleasure swells in my center, expanding until it explodes into shards of brilliant ecstasy, and I unravel beneath him for a second time, whimpering and pulling the sheets clean off the bed.
Nash clamps his hand over my mouth with a low chuckle, muffling my cries. “We need to work on your volume control.”
I barely have time to recover before another knot forms in my center, pulling tighter with his every plunge. Animalistic ferocity gleams in his eyes as he pins my arms over my head with one hand, circling both of my wrists between his fingers in a bruising grip. He works me with savage determination, pummeling me with a punishing pace. Each drive of his hips charges the electricity pulsing in my core, voltage growing brighter and brighter.
“That’s it, Vi.” He fists my hair at the roots with his free hand, and my walls flutter around him. “Come again for me like a good girl.”
The combination of his filthy encouragement and divine pain is like touching a live wire, and everything detonates again. A sob wrenches from my lips, followed by a string of unintelligible whimpers begging or thanking him or some combination of both, and I lose myself in him completely.
I’m still in the throes of my own orgasm when he slams into me with such force that it steals the breath from my lungs, driving the headboard of the bed into the wall.
“Dammit. Why do you have to be so—” With another snap of his hips, the headboard hits the wall again. “Fucking.” He pulls back, plunging into me with another crash of the furniture. “Hot.”
Releasing my wrists, his mouth crashes down on mine and he grabs my hips, pinning me to the mattress. We both cry out as he drives into me one final time. A tremor runs through his body, and he buries his face in my neck with a low groan, throbbing between my legs with release.
Nash half-collapses over me, supporting his weight. “Holy shit.” His mouth slides along my jaw. “I missed that.”
“I did, too.”
I have never been so thoroughly fucked in my life. In more ways than one.
Still buried inside of me, he wraps an arm beneath my waist and rolls us over, facing each other. Intertwining our hands, he kisses the side of my wrist, emerald eyes tracing my face.
Something unspoken passes between us, but I’m afraid to let myself believe it.
He hauls me even closer, and I nestle in the crook of his neck, savoring the warmth of his smooth skin against mine, the steady thud of his heart against my cheek. As much as it might surprise other people, Nash is world-class at cuddling.
After a few more minutes of sweaty snuggling, he presses a kiss to my temple and shifts, reluctantly separating our bodies. “Hang tight, beautiful.”
Nash rolls out of bed, striding into the bathroom without a single shred of self-consciousness. My eyes stay glued to him the entire time because his sculpted ass and hamstrings are a work of art, the broad taper of his torso geometric perfection. There should be a marble statue of him in a museum.
The tap switches on in the bathroom, and he returns a moment later with a warm washcloth, carefully wiping my inner thighs. When he dips between my legs, I draw in a soft breath at the stimulation from the terrycloth where I’m still sensitive and now a little sore, and his touch gentles even more.
My hands sink into his thick hair, playing with it affectionately. “You’re still sweet, you know that?”
“Just cleaning up the mess I made.” He sets the damp cloth aside, brushing his lips against my neck, right below my ear. Warm breath fans my skin, sending tingles down my spine. “But I like knowing you’ll have a reminder of me between your legs for a while.”
His gaze drops to my lower body again, and he sucks in a breath, gently tracing the red hickey blooming on the outside of my hip. “Damn, I marked you good. Does that hurt?”
“No. At least it’s where nobody can see.”
Nash quirks a brow. “Maybe I should put some where they can.”
“Better not,” I whisper. “We aren’t even supposed to be doing this.”
Pulling me into him again, he growls in frustration and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He’s quiet for a moment, his chest falling with a long, slow exhale. “I know what I said before, but I didn’t mean it, Vi. I’ll respect your wishes if you want to wait until the semester ends. I’m not going anywhere. Or with anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There’s a pang in my heart because despite what I said to him at Fall Fest, that isn’t what I want. I know that’s not what he wants, either. After so much time apart, I can’t imagine letting more slip away.
“I don’t want to wait. We just need to be careful.” At least, going forward. What we just did is the very definition of “not careful.”
Nash’s fingertips trace my upper arm, lightly tickling my skin in the best way. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure you don’t get in trouble. Promise. And if it ever comes down to it, I’ll take the heat so you don’t.”
Tiny half-moon divots marking his upper arms catch my eye, raised red scratch marks along his shoulder. “Uh-oh. Think I got payback for that hickey you left behind.”
“Huh?” He cranes his neck, his mouth pulling into a smug grin. “Nice. I didn’t even feel that.”
I drag the tip of my finger along his tattoos, studying the artfully shaded pictures and intricate designs. Some of them make sense to me, like his hockey number; a stick; and a pair of skates. Others I have to ask him to explain because the significance is less clear. I bypass a set of numbers that I’m fairly certain is the date his mother died without mentioning it.
Then I spot writing incorporated along his bicep, tracing the letters with my fingers. “Memento mori, amor fati,” I read aloud. “Latin, right? What does that mean?”
“Remember death, love your fate.”
“That’s a little bleak.” Yet oddly fitting, for him. He’s one of the most unafraid people I know.
“I think it helps me keep my priorities straight.” His hand glides along my belly, cupping possessively between my legs. “Like right now, my priority is your tight little pussy.”
I giggle. “How are you still horny?” His refractory period is nearly non-existent; maybe it’s an athlete thing.
“I’m always horny for you. Especially when you’re lying here, freshly fucked, with me dripping down your legs.” He fills me with a finger, followed by another. My mouth falls open on a whimper as my core flutters, thighs clenching. “There’s nothing hotter.”
