He thrust inside me to the hilt.
We moaned together, and I watched as his eyes flickered shut just for a moment…as mine threatened to do the same, but Iwantedto keep watching him, to see the way he reacted. Hishand splayed out across my back, between my shoulder blades, his other hand holding me steady.
“Fuck, your bare pussy feels so fucking good, sunshine,” he groaned, tilting his head back, his brow furrowed. “So fucking good on my cock. Wanna fuck you raw for the rest of my life.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes?—”
He started to move.
No buildup, no easing into it—just Nash, all of him, setting a pace that made my knuckles white on the sink edge. I watched his face in the mirror and he watched mine and it was almost too much, that eye contact, nowhere to hide from what either of us was feeling.
His hand slid from my back around to my front, fingers finding me, and I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper.
“Don’t,” he said, low. “Let me hear you.”
“Someone will?—”
“I don’t care.” He thrust deeper, his eyes locked on mine in the mirror. “Let me hear you.”
I let go of my lip.
He worked me with his fingers while he moved inside me and I stopped caring about the bar, about Connor, about any of it—there was just this, just him, just the specific impossible feeling of Nash without anything between us.
“You feel that?” he said against the back of my neck. “Feel how deep I am?”
“Yes—”
“That’s where it’s gonna take,” he said. Low and certain. “That’s where my baby’s going.”
Something crested in me.
“Nash—”
“I know.” His rhythm didn’t break. “I know, sunshine. Let go.”
I came apart.
“Fuck yes,” he gritted out. “Clench that sweet pussy and take me deeper. Come on…milk me, baby. Wanna make sure I get as deep inside you as I can?—”
I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. The orgasm was still moving through me in waves and he wasn’t stopping, wasn’t slowing down, just kept working me through it with his fingers and his hips until I was shaking.
“That’s one,” he said against my ear.
“Nash—”
“I’m not done with you.”
He shifted his angle slightly and I gasped—different, deeper, hitting something that made my whole body go tight again almost immediately.
“There,” he said. Satisfied. Like he’d found exactly what he was looking for. “There it is.”
“I can’t—I just?—“
“You can.” His fingers kept moving. “You’re going to.”
I watched us in the mirror—his jaw tight, the concentration on his face, the way he watched me like I was the only thing worth watching—and felt myself climbing again already, impossibly fast, my body doing things I hadn’t known it could do before him.
“Talk to me,” he said low. “Tell me what you want.”
