My stomach flips.
By the time we get back to Ard Na Mara, my tummy is full and so is my heart. Being out on a date with a Hollywood movie star felt oddly normal. Well, apart from the trillions of butterflies zipping round my stomach. I guess even the right non-movie stars have the potential to invoke them.
I linger in the doorway, pretending to bid him goodbye. ‘So, thanks for dinner.’
Nate’s face falls for a split second before he realises I’m joking. Two enormous, tattooed arms launch around the backs of my legs and sweep me off my feet.
‘Nice try, sweetheart, but I believe you promised me a different type of dessert.’
Tootsie barely raises her head as we thunder through the hall and up to the bedroom.
Nate lays me out on the bed. His whole demeanour is different tonight. Like something’s shifted, but what, I don’t know.
‘On your front.’ It’s an order I’m only too happy to obey.
Nate undoes my zip with a sound almost as satisfying as the growl of appreciation from his lips.
‘Do you have shares in a lingerie store by any chance?’ Thick, callused fingers trace over my back as he wiggles the dress down over my hips.
‘No. I have a friend who was convinced I was going to need every sexy item I owned. She owns this place, actually.’
‘Well, remind me to thank her, if I ever meet her.’ We both know that’s unlikely. Meeting friends was never part of this arrangement.
I rise from my stomach to my knees and shimmy my hips to help him along. He blows out a low whistle and tosses the dress to the floor. ‘Holy fuck, Holly, you’re going to be the death of me.’
My head twists over my shoulder to eye him, but he’s too busy eye-fucking my ass to notice. Slipping a finger beneath the scarlet waistband of my panties, he swipes a finger through my wet heat.
‘Did you see the way that waiter was looking at your tits?’ His voice is deep and gravelly.
I swallow hard, wondering if I should confess, but apparently it’s a rhetorical question, because Nate continues before I can answer. ‘I can’t blame the guy, but seriously, this is mine.’
I whimper a response. It’s a battle to form anything coherent when he’s touching me like that.
‘I don’t share, do you understand?’
As if I’d dream of thinking about another man while we’re knee deep in this thing. Even if it does have an expiry date.
He slips a finger deep into my core and I gasp.
‘Say it, Holly. Say you’re mine. No one else looks at, or touches, this body while we’re together, okay?’
‘Nobody but you,’ I pant, bucking like a wild horse.
‘Good girl.’ He removes his finger and tugs my lingerie to the side, crawling onto the bed behind me. Hot hands grip my ankles and hold them wide. His face dips and his tongue flicks my clit. The fact he’s behind me only makes it so much hotter.
‘Fuck, Nate. That’s so good.’
‘Damn right it is.’ His tongue swirls, darts and slides over every sensitive spot and I’m almost blind with white, fiery lust and need. My thighs tighten and tremble, but I can’t move. And I revel in every single second of it.
No one has ever owned my body like this. The way he takes control over my pleasure is as big a turn on as the act itself. Add that I’ve been fantasising about this man since the day I realised what my vagina was for, and I’m spiralling over the edge, free falling into an orgasm worthy of its own movie. A thousand stars burn and crash behind my eyelids as the world shatters around me.
‘So fucking delicious.’ Nate flips me onto my back like a pancake. However hot the first night was, the temperature elevates with each one that passes. By the time Christmas comes, I may be nothing more than a pile of hot, sticky lava.
I reach for the buckle of his trousers with frantic fingers.
‘Greedy little thing, aren’t you?’ His trousers drop to the floor.
‘Shirt off.’ He’s not the only one with a list of demands.
