His Plaything(27)

“Yeah, but we…” I had no idea what to say. Instead, I just wrung my hands together, afraid that they'd gravitate to his perfect pecs and we'd end up screwing again instead of talking. As insistent as the heat between my legs was getting, we needed to discuss our relationship. We needed to make sure we were on the same page before we got back to … Goddammit! Naked Nixon is a hazard to my sanity.

“Ford and Emma are in our same situation—actually, they're a lot more closely related than we are—and they're engaged, for Christ's sake. Dad and Cynthia gave them their blessing.” With a gentle smile, he rested his hand on my shoulder. “We've got nothing to be ashamed of. Nobody would think badly of us. Nobody would even care.”

“Really? You're saying you'd call me your girlfriend in public?”

He blinked, looking confused. “Why the hell not? Might take some getting used to, bu—”

“You'd tell your friends right now that we're dating?”

“Fox and Logan can go fuck themselves.” Nixon paused. “Especially Fox. At the end of the day, I've got an amazing girl, and they've got nothing but their hands.” His forehead touched mine; even through the steam-laden air, I could feel his breath on my lips, just barely. “Avery … last night was off the charts. It was … different on a whole new level for me. I want you to really believe that.”

And you've got a good sample size for comparison, don't you? I thought. Somehow, though, it didn't have the same venom as before. His long, wild list of past conquests had lost much of its power over me. The desire in his eyes—for me, Avery Palmer—was too honest to be anything less than irresistible.

“Last night was … good for me, too,” I finally admitted. Another understatement of the century. It almost scared me how well we fit together. Beyond anything I had ever experienced. I could hardly believe that what I'd felt with Nixon and what I'd felt with my high-school boyfriend even existed in the same universe. To call both acts “sex” seemed like a grave oversight of the English language.

Cradling my head in one hand, he pulled me to him. His kiss was an affectionate, almost tender press of lips. Not chaste—I couldn't imagine Nixon's touch ever failing to excite me—just innocently sensual. A kiss for kissing's sake, instead of a calculated first step toward more. But the spray had wet our mouths and before I knew it, our tongues were slipping against each other. His other hand drifted down to my hip. When he pulled back, we were both breathing faster.

“I fucking knew it,” I said, giggling despite myself. “I knew you didn't come in here just to talk. Otherwise you could've waited five minutes until I was out of the shower.”

“I wasn't lying. I really did want to check up on you.” He kissed me just under my ear. “But I admit … a wet, naked Avery was a pretty big bonus.” Another kiss, lower, over my already-fluttering pulse. “Could you really blame me for wanting to see that?” He gently nipped my collarbone, then laved the tender spot with his tongue. “For being unable to get enough of you?” His thumb rubbed circles over the crease where my thigh met my hip. Even that subtle touch sparked straight to my clit.

I bit my lip. “Nixon, I've … oohh … I've got class in an hour…”

“Take the day off.” His mouth descended to my nipple, all hot suction and flickering tongue. A whimper tore itself from high in my throat. I might have fallen if his other hand hadn't been holding me up behind my back.

“Y-you're evil,” I gasped. “You're evil and you need to … f-fuck me right now.”

He gave me a smile that begged to be slapped right off his face. “I can live with that. Just let me go get a condom.” He started pulling aside the shower curtain to step out.

Something made me reach out and grab his elbow. “Wait. I, um…” I almost couldn't believe I was about to say this. “I'm clean, and I can't get pregnant, so if you're clean…”

His eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“No more waiting. I want you now. And I want—” I swallowed. “I want to know what you feel like.”

His shock had already been replaced by a sinful grin. “You mean you want to feel my cock inside your sweet cunt?”

The filthy words were like an electric shock. I nodded quickly and said, “Yes,” my voice so husky I almost couldn't recognize it.

Nixon yanked me into a searing kiss, then spun me around to face the faucet. I braced myself on the tiled wall just as he pushed in. I slumped forward, panting as he filled me inch by breathtaking inch, so thick, so long it felt never ending. Finally his washboard abs met my back, only for him to pull out and slam back in. I moaned in ecstasy, toes curling against the slick porcelain of the tub. He set a punishing pace—hips hammering, lips and teeth at the nape of my neck, fingers rubbing my clit in firm circles—and I spurred him on with my ragged cries.