“You make me so fucking hard, Noel,” Nash growls. His teeth graze between my breasts, his tongue flicking up to taste my peak. Fire scorches through my veins, consuming every bit of oxygen, pushing me closer to the edge.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” I manage in a breathless ramble.
“I’ve been desperate for your taste on my tongue since I first touched you. The way you look up at me, Noel, fucking undoes me.” Nash thrusts in and out of me—sometimes deep and filling, other times short and shallow—before he speeds up and drives me over the edge. I wrap my arms around his torso, palms sliding along his sweat-slick skin, down his hips and bottom. I squeeze as he picks up pace, pounding me with everything he’s got.
“God, oh, Nash,” I beg. “More, harder. God, more.”
He pulls me flush against him and holds me tight. Our thighs, hips, torsos aligned. One hand snakes around the back of my neck and pulls me toward his lips. We crash together in a fierce kiss. His tongue twists with mine in desperation, and a low moan rumbles from his throat. I grip his head and match his ferocity.
His hips circle, a hand slipping between us to trace a path across my clit with those work-roughened fingers that burn like sandpaper on my skin.
“I want to hear you, pretty girl. Cum on my thick cock and let me hear it.”
Those words spark the final blaze of my orgasm. It floods me, short-circuiting my insides and loosening every muscle with each pounding heartbeat. We become a tangle of reckless sensation, violent passion, frantic connection cresting in a tidal wave that drags me under.
“Jesus, you’re like a tight fist squeezing my cock.” He slips his tongue past my lips, swallowing my ragged moans. His hands clamp on my hips as he steadies himself, head thrown back, rasped grunts escaping him. “God, yes, Noel.”
I gulp for air, driven by the sound of our bodies slapping together and the heady scent of sex, cum, him fueling my arousal.
“I fucking love being inside you.” His teeth trail along my ear. I smile, body still trembling. He runs his fingers through my wild hair and nuzzles my neck, breathing deep. “You smell like me.”
I sigh, roll against him, wrapping my arms around his body. I open my eyes and find him watching me, a thoughtful smile curving his lips.
“What?” I whisper.
“You.” He grins.
“What about me?”
He traces my ear with his thumb. “Watching you cum is fucking beautiful.” I feel heat rise in my cheeks. “And seeing you blush…” His fingertips drift across my collarbone. “Is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I’ll never get enough of you.”
He slides a hand between my thighs, massaging me tenderly. When he pulls away, his eyes narrow for a moment—and I spot the blood on his fingertips.
“Jesus, Noel. You were a virgin?” He runs a hand through his rumpled hair.
I go still, shame flushing me. I want to flee, run out of this room, out of his cabin, never look back.
But can I?
“Noel.” He hauls me into his lap, our chests heaving, limbs tangled until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. A deep peace settles in my bones. I trust him—more than I’ve ever trusted any man but my daddy. Until now. Until Nash.
“If I’d known you were a virgin, I would’ve been different…more…” He searches for the right words, regret clouding his eyes. I feel tears prick mine.
“I don’t want you any different, Nash. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want tenderness. I wanted to feel you. I wanted to know I turn you on so much you nearly lose your mind,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
He exhales, nudging his nose along my neck, caring for me. “I didn’t want to take it from you like that.”
“You didn’t, Nash.” I cup his face, forcing his gaze to meet mine. “I gave it to you.”
His eyes glisten before he wraps me in his arms, lips claiming mine in slow, decadent strokes that feel like soul-fucking.
Nash Hollis owns me.
Chapter 16
Noel
Iwake up warm.
