“A meal that fails to satisfy is a sin,” Nate replies. He glances at his gray joggers. “Also, sweatpants are the best.”
Frowning, I fold an arm over my chest. “I don’t disagree. But no tenderloin and definitely no tits until you talk.”
The darkness in his gaze returns, casting a shadow over the warm flecks of gold in his irises. Tipping back his whisky, Nate looks away, a tic in his jaw. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
“I had a shit day.”
I wait for him to go on. He sips again. Swallows. The light of the fire catches on his face, producing flickers of light, darkness, depth.
I’ve never seen him like this. It bothers me, and I feel my throat start to thicken.
I should be terrified. I should run. I don’t do vulnerability, least of all with a Kingsley.
But instead, I plant a hand on Nate’s chest and give him a gentle nudge. “Sit.”
“Milly—”
“Sit.”
My voice is sharp and so is the look in his eyes when he falls heavily into his leather chair.
I set down my glass on a side table. My gaze never leaving his, I put my hands on his bent knees and get down on my own, pushing his legs apart so I can settle between them.
Reaching for the waistband of his sweats, I say, “Let me make it better.”
“Milly,” he repeats, this time in that bare, thin voice of his.
I pull down the waistband. The bulge in his pants presses against the heel of my hand. “Let me. Please.”
His nostrils flare as he runs a hand down his face. “Why you gotta be so good at this?”
“At what?” I ask innocently and tug the sweats even lower while simultaneously reaching inside his navy blue briefs. My hand finds his dick—hard, hot, the perfect handful—and I run the pad of my thumb up the slit on his head.
He hisses, his other head falling back. “Fucking with me. God, I love it when you fuck with me.”
I bite my lip, grinning harder.
I guide his dick through the opening in his briefs. My pussy swells as I lean in. Turning him on turns me on in a way that’s terrifyingly erotic. He’s gorgeous. Smooth skin, the vein on the side of his shaft soft against my palm. A pink head that glistens as he leaks into my hand. His neatly trimmed auburn pubic hair peeks through, dark enough to almost look brown.
“So let me fuck with you for a little while,” I say.
I lick him. The taste of his pre-cum mingles with the remnants of this whisky on my tongue, equal parts salty and sweet. He groans as I go to work on his head, pressing the flat of my tongue to his slit, then guiding the pink tip up and down, down and up, stopping to take just the tiniest bit of him into my mouth. I suck, one quick, hard pull, and he bucks his hips, begging.
Curling my lips over my teeth, I tuck my hair behind my ear and reach for him again. I give his shaft a firm tug before I kiss his tip and then slowly open my lips, resting my tongue on my bottom lip to guide him into the heat of my mouth. My other hand is on his thigh now, the enormous muscles there tensing.
I give him a squeeze—relax—and he lets out a breath. I take him deeper into my mouth, ducking down, bobbing up, running my tongue along his length. I close my eyes and take him deeper, his crown hitting the soft palate at the back of my throat.
I gag a little. Knowing how much I love that, Nate puts a hand on my head and guides himself deeper still. Knowing how much he loves that, I swallow, hard, and the tiniest bit of cum trickles down my throat, making my eyes burn and my thoughts scatter.
It’s just my heartbeat. His growl. The ache that nestles itself inside my rib cage whenever Nate puts his hands on me.
He groans, fingers curling into my hair, and he finally lets go, gently rolling his hips so that he fucks my mouth in needy, rhythmic strokes.
My pussy prickles with agonizing heat, the kind that has me squeezing my thighs together. I’m soaking wet.
Something—everything—about this man soaks me through.
He moves, and I move. He fills my mouth. Says my name.
“Milly,” he’s saying. “Look at me, baby.”
I open my eyes. My pulse skips a beat at the look on his face. Naked desire.
Naked fear.
I want to make that fear go away. I start to bob down, but he catches my face in his hand. His grip is firm, but his gaze is soft.
The ache inside me pulses.
Let’s do this.
Let’s tell the world we’re together. Yes, that includes my brothers.
I slowly pull back, guiding him out of my mouth, but I keep my hand wrapped around his length. Give him a slow, soft tug. “I’m worried about you,” I say.
“Don’t be.”
A long beat of silence as he searches my face.
Something’s definitely wrong.
“I don’t normally advocate for sex first, speak later—”
“Really?” Nate scoffs, and my heart skitters at the creases that appear at the edges of his eyes. “Weren’t you the one who said this was, and I quote, ‘Just sex, nothing but sex, and if you want more, you’re barking up the wrong tree’?”
“Maybe I’ve changed my tune. My point being, you have a terrible habit of wanting to not only snuggle after sex but talk too.”
The spark in his eyes disappears. “I’m trying—”
“You’re not doing a very good job of it.” I push up to standing and hold out my hand. “If I have to fuck you to make you talk, then so be it. Come on, Nathaniel.”
I like using his full name. There’s a solidness to it, a whiff of history that makes me think of hot revolutionaries in tricorn hats tearing through the streets shouting, “The British are coming!”
When he just looks up at me, I wiggle my fingers. “Let me take one for the team for once, would you?”
“Milly, you just had my dick in your mouth.”
“And?”
He keeps looking at me, and for a horrible second I think he’s actually going to turn me down. But just as my face starts to burn, he takes my hand with a muttered, “Goddammit,” and then he’s flinging me over his shoulder—never in my life have I enjoyed being just shy of five-two until I met Nate Kingsley—and taking me to my first-floor master bedroom.
He tosses me onto my bed and tears off his sweater, revealing a chiseled chest covered with a smattering of dark red hair and more tattoos. The brass frame creaks as he leans down and plants one hand beside my head and cups my face with the other, tucking his pinkie behind my ear to tilt my mouth up to meet his. He captures my lips in a hard, deep kiss. I gasp, closing my eyes against the force of it. His exhales are noisy gusts against my skin. His tongue licks into my mouth, taking, pulling, and I tilt my chin even higher to keep up with the onslaught.
My heart is going apeshit inside my chest. I dig my fingers into the skin on his chest, holding on for dear life.
I live for how he takes me out of my head. How he tears me away from my worries and all the things that need to get done to just be here, here, here, inhabiting the marrow of this feeling I’ve been too scared to let myself taste until now.
Nate hikes my skirt up my legs and pulls down my tights. Only when he curls a finger around my thong, his large first knuckle brushing against my pussy, do I realize his hands are shaking.
I try to break the kiss, to check in with him, but he’s relentless. He won’t let me go. He kisses me and yanks aside my thong and draws the pad of his thumb up my slit, a brisk exploration that makes me jolt, stars exploding behind my closed eyelids. He circles my clit without touching it. I cry out, but he captures the sound in his mouth, swallowing it.