He guides his finger into my mouth and I swirl my tongue around it, licking myself off his skin. When he pulls his finger from my mouth, it’s with a lewd pop.
The next thing I know, Nathaniel flips me around, breasts pressed to the glass, palms braced against the cold surface.
His fingers toy with the lace at my hips. “It’s a shame,” he drawls, almost like he means it, “these are so damn pretty on you.”
Then—rip.
A startled breath escapes me as the seam splits cleanly between my ass cheeks and the ruined lace slips to the floor.
His hand slides over bare skin like a man claiming a prize. “Don’t worry, though.” Without warning, his palm lands on my ass in a smack. “I’ll buy you more.”
He rearranges my body till I’m arching my back. Then, I feel him notching the head of his cock at the entrance of my pussy and he’s just about to push himself inside when?—
“Wait!” I cry out.
Nathaniel halts immediately. His hands tighten on my hips, protective and instantly alert.
I rush to speak before worry takes root. “I want you…” Reaching back, I fumble for him, my fingers brushing the hard, heated length of his cock. I guide him until he’s positioned at the place I’ve never offered anyone. “Here.”
His breath rips out of him in a rough, stunned exhale.
I don’t need to see his face to know what it means.He wants this.
And now, after everything that has unfolded between us, I want to give him this. This last first. The final part of myself I have left to yield to him, that I’ve never trusted anyone else to touch.
He doesn’t answer immediately. The silence stretches, thick with implication.
I straighten, turning my head enough to meet his gaze over my shoulder. His eyes are blown wide, ravenous yet afraid to misread me.
I offer a small, steady smile. “I trust you.”
My words undo him, easing the hard lines on his face.
“Thank you,” he whispers back, voice thick.
Then, he bends and presses a slow, reverent kiss between my shoulders, right over the line of my spine. “I’ll make this good for you,” he vows against my skin. “I promise.”
He guides me back into position, easing me forward until my palms meet the cool glass again. Back arched, hips tilted, my whole body open to him.
He takes one wrist and brings my hand between my thighs.
“Don’t stop touching yourself,” he instructs. His fingers press over mine, coaxing the first slow circle. “Keep going, baby.”
I nod breathlessly, quick to comply as I begin to stroke myself, setting a languid rhythm.
Then, he steps away.
For a heartbeat, I’m alone. Arched. Exposed. Manhattan sprawled beneath me on the other side of the glass.
Yet somehow, instead of self-consciousness, a sense of peace floods through me. Only with Nathaniel could I be this vulnerable and still feel so secure.
The realization makes my fingers move more surely, pleasure setting every nerve ending alight.
Soon, I hear footsteps approaching and the sound of a cap popping open. My pulse stutters in anticipation.
“We’re going to go as slow as you need, baby,” he murmurs against the base of my back. “I’ve got you.”
His fingers, now slick with lube and cool to the touch, circle the tight ring of muscle between my ass cheeks with exploratorystrokes. My back arches further with the increased flood of sensation and stimulation.
