He listens, pumping into me harder. His fingers sink into my ass cheeks as he moves my body up and down on his cock. The stretched feeling fills my entire being with all that Nate gives me.
“That’s right, baby. Take it.”
My body clenches and my toes curl as my legs draw him closer.
“Nate,” I gasp out.
He picks up speed, hammering into me quicker. Then his fingers tug at my swollen clit, which causes me to jump and lose control, the orgasm taking over when I’m unprepared. I scream, pushing my head against the wall until it hurts as Nate slows and his cum fills me.
When he stops, he places his forehead against mine as our hearts beat as one. My legs stop twitching when he pulls himself from my body and sets me on the ground, wiping a hand between my legs and sticking two fingers his mouth. Nate smiles and I blush not believing what I’m seeing.
“We are going to have so much fun christening this house.”
I laugh. Living the rest of my life with Nate sure will be interesting.
“Is thereany furniture you’re attached to?” Nate asks as he watches me buckle my seatbelt in his brand-new pristine car.
If he’s serious about this whole being in a relationship thing — which I think he is — I can never let him drive Emma anywhere. His backseat will be full of crackers and melted M&Ms. The commercials lie. They do melt in your hand if you’re under the age of five.
My attention goes from the pristine back seat, with the light tan leather upholstery, to the furniture in my apartment. I bought it used and from a thrift store, but I love it. Although, the couch has two holes in one cushion that I hide strategically with throw pillows.
“My furniture sucks. We can use yours.”
Nate puts the car in drive and pulls out of the parking lot. “Mine is worse. What if we bought new?”
“All new furniture?”
He nods.
“Furniture can be expensive.” Especially when I’m picking it out. I remember back to my previous life when I’d been married and had a more open budget. I once spent six thousand dollars on a living room set. I had no idea back then.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says.
How can I not worry about it? My entire life is built around worry. I have a child. Worrying is the one part of motherhood I might actually be successful at.
“Did you sign for the house? When are you moving in?”
Nate looks to me and I swear his eyes call me crazy. “We’removing in as soon as possible.”
“But I have a lease, and breaking it will be expensive.” I can’t remember what my lease said, but it has to be a few months’ rent. It’s not that I’m against living with Nate, but I can’t pack up and move as fast as he can. I have commitments, attachments, signed legally binding contracts.
Nate slows the car stop at a stop sign. “Are you having second thoughts?” He places his hand on my knee.
“Absolutely not,” I promise because it’s the truth. “This is a lot of stuff to plan. I didn’t have much notice.” There’re loads of lists to make. Timelines. Movers. And packing. I don’t have any boxes.
Nate squeezes my knee reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Josie. I’ll take care of everything. We’ll handle it one step at a time.”
“One step at a time?” That will take years.
He nods like he’s not worried at all about how we’ll figure it out. “I want to hire some people to come in and paint the house first, so it’ll probably be a week or two before we can move in.”
He’s going to pay for movers and painters?
“You can’t pay someone to paint, Nate. I don’t have a job. I can paint.”
He shakes his head. “Josie, it’ll be fine.”
“But it’s a lot of money.”
