Erin
Nick's bedroomwas glorious in the morning. This wasn't my first stay here, but it was the first time that I paused long enough to take it all in. In this rare circumstance, I appreciated the effects of jet lag that had me awake long before him. It had also given me time to ponder his request that I stay with him. Somehow, those words weren't quite so complex anymore.
The perfect amount of sunlight streamed in from the east. It was just enough to brighten and warm the room, but never so much that it was blinding. I was convinced that the bed was actually a linen-covered marshmallow. And it all came with a sexy doctor who didn't see a reason to wear pajamas.
"What's on your mind, lovely?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. "You've been humming to yourself and tapping out Morse code on my arm for an hour."
He kissed the delicate spot beneath my ear, and I squirmed as his beard tickled my skin.
"You don't want to know," I said through my giggles.
That stopped all the ticklish kisses. "Of course I do," he said, levering up so that I was caged beneath him. "Talk to me, Skip. Tell me anything, everything."
"All right, you asked for it," I murmured. I dropped my gaze to his chest, raking my fingers over his skin. "I was thinking that the last time I had Thanksgiving with Shannon, I spent the subsequent forty-eight hours vomiting."
"Yeah," he said, wincing. "I think I've heard about that. You don't have to worry, though. Andy cooks, and she's very precise. Before Andy came around, Shannon had the entire meal catered. No incidents of food-borne illness, darlin', and even if there was, I'm qualified to handle that."
I hooked my ankles around his waist and pulled him down. There was something delicious about his body pressing mine into the mattress. "What I'm hearing you say is that I'm definitely going to this shindig."
"You know what I love about your family?" he asked, avoiding the hell out of my question. "Anytime the whole group is together, but especially around the holidays, they have the best time ever. Every single holiday is the new best holiday ever. Last year, it was at Matt and Lauren's loft, but Andy wanted to brine the turkey ahead of time, and that left Matt and Patrick jogging from the garage with a fifty-five gallon tub. Important note here, the tub was uncovered. They argued the entire way, and the turkey almost went flying when Matt tripped. And there was a trail of turkey water all down the hallway. The year before, we had paella at the loft, and Tiel brought an incredible pumpkin pie."
The sun was sliding in through the far window, and the light seemed to brighten Nick's light hazel eyes. "What I'm hearing you say now is that you're only there for the food," I said.
He dismissed my comment with a disinterested murmur, and continued on with his story. "It was kind of strained, with Tiel. But she's the type of person who needs to get comfortable with new folks before she can loosen up."
"And what should I learn from all that?" I asked, pinching his ass. "I'm inventing reasons to avoid my food-loving family? They're only enemies in my mind? If I stopped imagining disasters, I'd enjoy things more?"
"Yes, yes, and yes," he said, shooting each of my concerns out of the sky. He pinched my ass in return. "And I want them to know you're mine."
I reached between us, stroking his cock until he moaned my name. "Haven't we already accomplished that?" I asked.
"Somewhat," he said, thrusting into my hand. "We laid the foundation. Now we're building the house."
"Quick, embroider that on a pillow," I said, laughing. His hips were moving faster now, his cock shuttling between my fingers with unrestrained need. "When you're finished with the handicrafts, do you think you could throw my legs over your shoulders and fuck me?"
"Are you using me for orgasmic courage?" he asked, sliding his hand between my thighs.
He growled when he found me wet, and pushed his fingers inside me. My hands gripped the pillows at my head, and I tossed them toward the floor. One landed on Nick's back, and he stopped moving to give me an unimpressed stare. "Your aim, Skip. It needs work."
"Back to that orgasmic courage," I said. I batted his hand away and brought him to my entrance. Fingers were nice, cocks were better. "If I say yes, will you have a problem with that?"
"No," he said, laughing as he filled me. "That's what husbands are for."
"If that's the case, what are wives for?" I asked.
Nick was quiet for a moment, offering nothing more than growls and groans as he moved in me. "The same," he said, his lips pressed to my neck. "But also blowjobs."
Before Nick, I'd never experienced an orgasm during sex. I didn't think I could. I didn't think I wanted to, either. My introduction to sex wasn't a kind one, and after that, the mere thought of intercourse skated a fine line between tolerable and torturous. But then I'd spent a weekend on the far edge of Cape Cod with Nick, and a switch flipped. No one had ever touched me the way he did, like he wanted to wreck me but be gentle while he did it. A little voice kept saying "This moment, this man? They're safe. This time won't be like any of the ones before," and I believed it.
And now, with my ankles on his shoulders and his hands kneading my breasts as he drove into me, I still believed. I could feel good and wanted in the right ways. I could have sex without feeling all of my broken and scarred places. I could love him, and I could deserve his love in return.
* * *
Riley wasat the door of Shannon's beachfront home north of the city when we arrived, and he regarded us with morethis is going to be goodamusement than strictly necessary.
"Shut up," I snapped, shrugging out of my coat.
"I didn't say anything," he replied.
