Sadie
I feel the shift the moment his weight settles over me on the big, soft bed. The room is dim with late afternoon light filtering through the heavy curtains, turning everything golden and hazy. Nick’s body is warm and solid, his skin still carrying the faint chill of the day from the funeral, but under my hands he’s already burning. My fingers trace the lines of his chest, over the scar I’d noticed before, and I feel the steady thump of his heart.
“Slow,” he murmurs against my mouth, like he’s reminding both of us. His kiss is gentle at first, almost reverent, lips brushing mine again and again until I open for him. His tongue slides in soft, tasting, learning me like we have all the time in the world. One big hand cups the side of my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone, while the other rests at my waist, holding me like I’m something fragile.
I am fragile right now. My head still throbs faintly, my body is tender from days of unconsciousness and low blood sugar, but lying under him like this, skin to skin, I feel more whole than I have in years. His mouth moves to my jaw, then down my throat, slow open-mouthed kisses that make my breath hitch. When he reaches my collarbone, he lingers, sucking lightly until I arch up with a soft gasp.
“Nick…” His name slips out like a prayer.
He hums against my skin, the vibration traveling straight between my legs. His hand slides up my ribs, cupping my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it tightens under his touch. Everything is languid, careful. He’s treating me like glass, and part of me loves it. The safety, the care. But another part, the part that survived Jason, that stabbed a man to protect what was mine, that woke up in this stranger’s house surrounded by danger and chose to stay… that part wants more.
I slide my hands into his hair and tug, just enough to bring his mouth back to mine. The kiss deepens. I pour everything into it, gratitude, need, the sharp edge of fear I’ve been carrying. He groans low in his throat, and the sound unlocks something in me.
We both need this.
I wrap my legs around his hips and roll us, surprising him. He lets me, eyes dark as I settle on top, straddling his thighs. His hands settle on my waist, steadying me, but he doesn’t stop me. I lean down and kiss him harder, tongues sliding, teeth grazing. My hips rock against the hard length of him trapped between us, and the friction pulls a broken sound from both of us.
“Sadie,” he warns, voice rough, but his fingers flex on my skin like he’s fighting not to grip harder.
“I’m okay,” I whisper against his lips. “We’re okay. Let me feel you.”
I reach between us and wrap my hand around him. He’s thick, hot, smooth and ridged. The way his breath stutters when I stroke him makes heat pool low in my belly. I guide him to my entrance, slick and ready, and sink down slowly. The stretch is exquisite. We both freeze when he’s seated deep inside me, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air.
For a long moment it’s about the connection. His hands stroke up and down my back, soothing, while I adjust to the feel of him. I rock gently, small movements that send sparks through me. He kisses me lazily, sweetly, murmuring my name like it’s sacred.
But then I look at him. The exhaustion in his eyes from sitting at my bedside for days, from burying his father, from carrying everything on his shoulders. The faint bruises still healing from the car wreck. The tension he’s been holding for everyone else.
We’ve both been broken. We both need to heal.
I brace my hands on his chest and start to move with purpose. Harder. Deeper. The wet sound of our bodies meeting fills the room, obscene and perfect. Nick’s head falls back against the pillow, a low curse in Russian escaping him as his hips snap up to meet mine.
“Yes,” I gasp, riding him faster. My breasts bounce with every thrust and he palms them, pinching my nipples just hard enough to make me clench around him. The slow sweetness burns away, replaced by raw need. I lean forward, changing the angle so he hits that spot inside me with every roll of my hips, and the pleasure coils tight and hot.
His control snaps beautifully. One hand fists in my hair, the other grips my ass, helping me move, driving me down onto him harder. The slap of skin, our ragged breathing, the creak of the bed, it’s all filthy and alive. I grind against him on every downstroke, chasing the friction against my clit until I’m shaking.
“Come on, Sadie,” he growls, voice wrecked. “Let me feel you. Give it to me.”
The words tip me over. I shatter with a cry, clenching hard around his cock as waves of pleasure rip through me. He flips us in one smooth motion, never leaving my body, and drives intome through my orgasm. The new angle is devastatingly deep and relentless. His mouth finds my breast, sucking hard, and I arch into his face, urging him on.
He fucks me like he needs it to breathe. Long, powerful strokes that push me up the bed. I wrap my legs higher around his waist and meet him thrust for thrust, whispering filthy encouragement against his ear until he groans my name like a curse and a blessing all at once.
When he comes, it’s with his face buried in my neck, hips stuttering deep inside me as he spills hot and endless. I relish the feeling of his body as he trembles with his release.
We stay locked together for a long time, breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other. The room smells like sex and us. His weight is heavy but welcome, grounding.
Eventually he lifts his head, eyes soft again, searching my face. “Too much?”
I smile, tired and sated and strangely healed in a way I can’t explain. “Just enough.” I brush damp hair back from his forehead. “We both needed that.”
He kisses me slow and sweet once more, then rolls us to the side, still inside me, pulling the blankets over our cooling bodies. His arms wrap around me like he’ll never let go.
