“Oh.” I gasp at the idea, reaching for the toy with one hand, and continuing to tease myself with the other. I let my index finger slip just inside my entrance and groan.
“I’ll show you what it means to ache if you don’t follow directions,solnyshka.” I pull my finger free. Nicky pushes a button, and the vibe springs to life. It’s a gentle flutter as I hold it, waiting for what comes next. “Rub the end of it around your clit. Nice. And. Slow.”
“Yes.” The word hisses out of me at the first contact of the smooth silicone. I do exactly what Nicky says, but it is bordering on torture. My other hand abandons the valley between my legs, racing up my body to my breasts to knead the weighted flesh and pluck at a hardened peak.
“Didn’t say you could do that.” Nicky’s voice is thick with want. As much as I am on fire from the slow climb to completion, I consider that this must be torture for him. The toy buzzes harder in my grasp, and my head thrashes from side to side as I continue to move it everywhere but where I need it. “Ready for more?”
“Yes! Please, I want everything,” I tell him, not a hint of shame in my voice, only desperation.
“I want to see those fingers inside you, thrusting and stretching, just like my cock does.”
Moaning, I bring my hand to my entrance, pushing two fingers in. There’s little resistance, the vibrator and Nicky’s words doing enough to ease the way. But there’s the barest hint of a stretch, and I chase that feeling down, swiftly trying to slip a third alongside the others.
“Feels so good, Nicky.” My eyes flutter closed as I begin to thrust in and out. It takes a minute to find a rhythm I can maintain while continuing to tease my clit with the vibrator.
I gasp when Nicky kicks the level on the vibrator up. The softest suction begins along my palm, and I realize he’s activatedthat as well. Thinking of it working against my hot bud has my eyes closing in pleasure.
“Eyes on me,solnyshka.” Nicky’s voice is sharp. My eyes open, locking on his. I can barely register the blue, the color eclipsed by his blown pupils. “Put the toy on your clit. We’re going to let it suck on you while you pretend it’s me.” It’s more growl than command. “Gonna watch you come, thinking of my tongue on you, wishing I could drown in the sweet taste of you.”
I don’t hesitate to comply, ignoring my agreement with words. I twist my hold on the toy, my thrusting fingers faltering for a beat until I connect the suction. A shout leaves my lips at the contact, an orgasm ripping through me. Nicky increases the suction and vibration, pushing me through wave after wave until an unexpected gush floods my hand. Light dances across my vision, and even though I want to close my eyes and revel in it, I keep looking at Nicky. He comes into sharper focus as I float back from my high.
His face has gone slack with wonder, color high on his cheeks, and his shoulders heave. He groans long and low, and his hips thrust once. He curls a hand around the remote, cutting off the vibe. I toss the dead toy to the side and pull my fingers from inside me. Nicky brings the heel of his other hand to his lap, grinding it over the fly of his jeans.
“Did you just come?” I ask, breathless, boneless, and a little brave. I haven’t seen something like that happen since I was a teenager, fumbling around with inexperienced guys too quick to give in to their bodies.
Nicky lunges forward, crawling onto the bed and stalking up my body. On his knees between my shaky thighs, he reaches for my wrist, bringing my wet fingers to his mouth. He sucks the remnants of my arousal clean, then leans over me, caging me in.
“You just christened our bed with nothing but your fingers, a toy, and my voice. Of course I fucking came in my pants,” hereplies drolly. “I’ll do it a hundred more times if it means I get to see that again.”
I giggle. Nicky presses a sweet kiss to my forehead and leans back.
“Let’s get cleaned up,” he says, offering a hand to me.
“And maybe start some laundry.”
CHAPTER 24
NICKY
Igrip the steering wheel tighter to hide my trembling hand. Bea sits in the passenger seat, scrolling through her emails. She’s been back at work for a few weeks, but today I’m headed into the complex with her.
Officially, eight weeks after my injury, I’ve met all the requirements of my cardiac rehabilitation and can return to any team practices as a non-contact participant. I’m extremely proud of the work I’ve done in the gym and in Adam’s office, but as I pull into the parking lot, I’m nervous.
The feeling ebbs a little when Jim, the security guard, smiles as I roll down the window to show my credentials.
“Real glad to be seeing you, man,” he says. I nod, and Bea’s hand finds mine over the middle console. Her fingers thread through mine, and I feel even braver. It doesn’t last long. “Going to be a great day when you’re back in the crease.”
“Thanks, Jim,” I acknowledge, the tiniest sense of dread sinking into my gut like a pebble. I’m confident in my plan to return to the goal, to play the game I love, but I can’t put myfinger on what has me on edge this morning. Bea squeezes my hand again, and though the ripples are drifting out of me and into her, I tighten my grasp, thankful she’s next to me.
I hold onto Bea as I close the window, bidding farewell to Jim. When I maneuver the SUV into a parking space, Bea pulls her hand back and leans across the armrest.
“Want to talk about it?” She props herself on her elbows, folding her arms, and waits. She doesn’t push for an answer, just sits patiently until I’m ready. This is the kind of partner Bea is: kind and understanding, gentle and supportive.
In the month since Valentine’s Day, things have changed in our lives and our relationship, but this steadiness hasn’t. Natalia was thrilled to learn Bea would become a more permanent fixture in the house—but just as Bea predicted, Natalia thought shehadmoved in already. Bea was with us every step of the way, even driving me and Nat to Adam’s office when we realized Natalia’s nightmares weren’t going to go away on their own. With my therapist’s help, we found a child psychiatrist, who Natalia sees once a week, and it has slowly started to change things for the better.
Bea celebrated every single milestone I passed in my rehab program, from graduating to a thirty-minute speed walk on the treadmill to picking up weights again. She’s checked in after going into the office on days the film crew has been around, and reminds me to be honest and real with them.
And she’s held me together on the days I got tired climbing the stairs, or couldn’t move on from the eight-pound dumbbells like I wanted to. Through all of it, there’s been no judgment or scrutiny.
