He leans in and kisses my belly—above my belly button because my stupid underwear is covering everything below. His hands move around to palm my butt. “You have an absolutely perfect ass, Tenley.”
He tilts his head so his chin is the only part of his face touching my stomach now. His hands move along the waistband of my underwear to the sides, by my hips. “One day I’m going to…”
My mind flashes to what I saw in his top drawer on my first day in the loft and I tense, but he doesn't finish the sentence the way I thought he was going to.
“…smack it while you ride me.”
“That can be arranged.”
"But first, dessert," he says, and before I can think to respond, his fingers hook into my underwear and he pulls them down to reunite with my jeans.
I'm naked and Nash, my sworn enemy, has his face half a foot from an area of my body I would have never ever thought he would see a month ago. And now I want him to do more than see it. I want him to touch it, play with it, claim it as his own personal sundae. Nash's tongue slowly glides across his lower lip. And then he pulls me forward by those firm hands on my ass and leans in… Nash might be a robot, but his tongue… his tongue is all hot-blooded male. The kind your mother warns you about.
My knees quiver and he lifts my left leg over his shoulder, opening me up but also putting me entirely off balance. I reach back and use the arm of the couch to ease myself down onto a cushion. He never comes up for air. Nash and that gifted tongue of his just keep licking and sucking as he touches my right knee and pushes it outward. I should probably care that I'm so shamelessly on display right now but all I can think about are the burning embers of white-hot pleasure growing hotter and heavier in my core about to ignite my entire body.
“Oh God… my God…” I whisper breathlessly.
“Beg me to make you come, Tenley,” he says, his lips brushing my clit as he speaks. “Say my name.”
“N…” I swallow and tip my hips. He pulls away. Fuck. “Nash.”
“You like my tongue?”
“It’s magic.”
“Then beg me to finish you off.”
“I don’t beg.”
He smirks. It's cocky. My robot husband is fucking cocky. He slides two fingers right into place, finding my G-spot on the very first try. My back arches and I let out a moan I didn't know I had in me. His tongue goes back to work and I see stars and give in. "Make me come, Nash. Please make me… Oh God…"
It’s long, breathless minutes before I’m able to do anything more than shudder and moan on the couch. My eyes slowly open and I see Nash, still between my open legs but he’s standing now and leaning over me. He’s still wearing his underwear and there is a massive bulge in the front and a small wet spot on the dark fabric. Pre-cum not cum. Good, I can still repay the favor.
I reach for him, with the intent of pulling down his boxer briefs and giving him the best head of his life. But before I can initiate, he’s scooped me up and is carrying me up the stairs like I’m a house fire victim and he’s a fireman. I’m naked, over his shoulder, ass in the air. “Hey!”
He smacks my ass. I laugh even though I want to pretend to be annoyed.
He drops me on the bed and drops himself on top of me and we make out like it's our job and we're employees of the year. Despite just having an earth-shattering orgasm I'm ready to do it again, so when Nash rolls us over and I'm on top, I straddle his hips.
He swears like a trucker as I slide down on him inch by inch. His hands start wandering up from my hips to my ribs to my… I hold his wrists and push his hands back down. Our eyes connect. “You’re going to have to tell me what that’s all about.”
“When you tell me why there’s a vibrator in your dresser.”
“Later,” he mutters and bucks up into me, urging me to get to business and I happily oblige.
Nash is thick and long and I feel him everywhere. I take it slow at first, so I can adjust, and find a rhythm that makes me tingle and has him moaning. He smacks my ass cheek again. I grab his hand and move it to my clit. “Help a girl out.”
He doesn’t have to be asked twice. When I come for a second time he sits up, wraps his arms around my back, and swallows my cry in a kiss. Then I collapse onto his chest as he holds me, and he rides out his own release moments later. When he leans back into the bed, I curl my head into the curve of his neck and inhale. He smells like shampoo and aftershave. A mix of heavy spice and sharp clean citrus. I’ve gotten used to the smell and it brings me comfort now, which is… not a good idea, but I can’t control my body’s reactions.
We lay there on top of the covers, groggy with sleep and oxytocin, his fingers lazily making circles on my bare back, until there’s a cellphone ringing in his pants pocket. He groans and rolls me off of him. I sigh. “I knew it was too good to last.”
As he heads downstairs to answer his phone, my thoughts turn to my aunt and get dark again. I don't know if I believe in God but I pray anyway. She needs to be okay. If something happens to Aunt Callie… our family won't recover. I won’t recover.
I hear Nash’s side of the conversation with someone and it sounds like hockey crap so I tune it out as I slowly rise from the bed, stretch, and make my way into the bathroom. I’m reaching for the tap to turn it on when he appears in the doorway. “Hot tub is better.”
"Twist my rubber arm." I smile. He grabs two towels from under his vanity and heads into his closet. He wraps the towels around us and then pulls down the ladder stairs.
As we sit in the warm, frothing water Nash looks up at the sky. “You can see all the stars in the Maritimes.”
