Fight with Me
Page 36
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So I am.
It’s Sunday evening and we’re back at Nate’s place for the night. Alecia’s cleaning crew did a great job at the house, but we decided to come back to Nate’s condo so he can get some work done in his office.
Because I prefer to cook to music, I plug my iPod into his sound system and crank it up. Yes, my cooking music tastes are a bit… juvenile. I prefer pop music to dance around the kitchen to. Britney Spears. Lady GaGa. Maybe a little Carly Rae and her Call Me Maybe. In fact, that works. Carly starts to sing through the speakers hidden throughout the room and I start to shake my ass while compiling what I need for dinner.
Hmm… I wonder what Nate would look like in ripped jeans? Good call, Carly Rae.
I pour myself a glass of fruity white wine, take a sip and pull my hair up into a messy twist at the crown of my head. I’m still wearing gray yoga pants and a black tank top from our trip to the gym today. God, I love watching Nate work out. At thirty, his body is incredible. Hell, his body is incredible for a twenty year old.
I still didn’t win in the ring today, but I knocked him on his ass twice, and that’s a victory in my book.
I smile smugly and quarter baby red potatoes for roasting, plopping them in cold water until I’m ready for them. The chicken I’m roasting with lemon and basil goes in the oven when the bell rings, telling me it’s warm enough. I’ll round out the meal with roasted asparagus with garlic.
I have time for a shower, so I set the kitchen timer for one hour, grab my wine, and walk down the hallway to the master bedroom, passing Nate’s office. His door is open, and he’s at the desk with the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, and he’s typing furiously on his keyboard.
“No, fuck that, they’ll never accept that offer,” he snaps, but his eyes soften when he sees me in the doorway.
“Dinner’s still a couple hours away. I’m hitting the shower,” I whisper.
“Hold on, Parker.” He pushes the receiver against his shoulder so Parker can’t hear him. “Okay, baby. What is that noise coming out of my speakers out there?”
“Cooking music.” I shrug innocently, blow him a kiss and saunter into the bathroom, stripping as I adjust the water temperature in his amazing shower. This bathroom is beautiful, and the shower is big enough to host a small orgy with a large rain shower-head in the ceiling. It feels incredible.
Thankfully, Nate’s sound system is wired throughout the whole condo, except his office, so I’m shimmying my hips and singing along to Pocket Full Of Sunshine as I lather up my hair. I lean my head back and let the hot water flow over me, rinsing my hair. The soapy lather falling down my back and over my breasts, bottom and legs feels so good on my skin, still sensitive from today’s workout, and my hands glide over my breasts, the nipples puckering on contact.
Mmm… pitty Nate has so much work tonight. I could use some company. He’s very inventive in the shower.
John Mayer starts to sing through the speakers about my body being a wonderland, and my hands start to slide all over my torso, one wandering closer to the homeland.
I perch one foot on a bench built into the tile and slide my hand between my legs, pushing my fingers between my folds, and imagine that it’s Nate’s fingers making me crazy. My other hand plucks at a nipple and suddenly Nate is behind me, his body pressed to mine, his arms wrapped around me and I jump, startled. I was so wrapped up in my little fantasy I didn’t hear him join me.
“Don’t stop,” he whispers in my ear. “Keep touching yourself.”
I shake my head and lean back against his chest, suddenly shy. He nibbles my neck and grabs my hand in his, guiding it back down between my legs.
“Want me to help?”
“Yes,” I sigh and arch my back as he pushes my fingers through my folds again, rubbing back and forth and up over my clit, then back down to my labia.
“Oh, God,” I moan. It feels so good, and just a little naughty. I try to pull my hand away to let him continue on his own, but he grabs it again in a firm hold.
“You don’t know what it does to me to see you pleasure yourself, Julianne.” His words are soft, hypnotizing and so sexy, and I can feel his hard-on against my ass. Our hands continue their assault, and he presses my palm against my clit and bites that spot on my neck, just behind my ear, and I feel my body start to shudder. I come against our hands, rocking and pushing against them, crying out his name.
Nate spins me around and pins me against the cold tile wall, leaning his torso against me, his cock pressed to my belly, and his lips are on mine, kissing me voraciously. I run my hands over his sides to his back and down to cup his very fine, very firm ass in my hands and squeeze.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls and cups my ass to lift me. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” I do and he eases himself inside me, slowly, his forehead leaning against mine, gray eyes burning with lust and need. I tangle his wet hair in my fingers and hold on as he begins to ease himself in and out of me, faster and faster, our breathing ragged and harsh. His eyes never leave mine as he pushes and pulls harder, faster, and I feel my legs clench tighter around him, another orgasm moving though me.
“Come on, baby, give it to me,” he whispers against my lips, and his words are my undoing.
It’s Sunday evening and we’re back at Nate’s place for the night. Alecia’s cleaning crew did a great job at the house, but we decided to come back to Nate’s condo so he can get some work done in his office.
Because I prefer to cook to music, I plug my iPod into his sound system and crank it up. Yes, my cooking music tastes are a bit… juvenile. I prefer pop music to dance around the kitchen to. Britney Spears. Lady GaGa. Maybe a little Carly Rae and her Call Me Maybe. In fact, that works. Carly starts to sing through the speakers hidden throughout the room and I start to shake my ass while compiling what I need for dinner.
Hmm… I wonder what Nate would look like in ripped jeans? Good call, Carly Rae.
I pour myself a glass of fruity white wine, take a sip and pull my hair up into a messy twist at the crown of my head. I’m still wearing gray yoga pants and a black tank top from our trip to the gym today. God, I love watching Nate work out. At thirty, his body is incredible. Hell, his body is incredible for a twenty year old.
I still didn’t win in the ring today, but I knocked him on his ass twice, and that’s a victory in my book.
I smile smugly and quarter baby red potatoes for roasting, plopping them in cold water until I’m ready for them. The chicken I’m roasting with lemon and basil goes in the oven when the bell rings, telling me it’s warm enough. I’ll round out the meal with roasted asparagus with garlic.
I have time for a shower, so I set the kitchen timer for one hour, grab my wine, and walk down the hallway to the master bedroom, passing Nate’s office. His door is open, and he’s at the desk with the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, and he’s typing furiously on his keyboard.
“No, fuck that, they’ll never accept that offer,” he snaps, but his eyes soften when he sees me in the doorway.
“Dinner’s still a couple hours away. I’m hitting the shower,” I whisper.
“Hold on, Parker.” He pushes the receiver against his shoulder so Parker can’t hear him. “Okay, baby. What is that noise coming out of my speakers out there?”
“Cooking music.” I shrug innocently, blow him a kiss and saunter into the bathroom, stripping as I adjust the water temperature in his amazing shower. This bathroom is beautiful, and the shower is big enough to host a small orgy with a large rain shower-head in the ceiling. It feels incredible.
Thankfully, Nate’s sound system is wired throughout the whole condo, except his office, so I’m shimmying my hips and singing along to Pocket Full Of Sunshine as I lather up my hair. I lean my head back and let the hot water flow over me, rinsing my hair. The soapy lather falling down my back and over my breasts, bottom and legs feels so good on my skin, still sensitive from today’s workout, and my hands glide over my breasts, the nipples puckering on contact.
Mmm… pitty Nate has so much work tonight. I could use some company. He’s very inventive in the shower.
John Mayer starts to sing through the speakers about my body being a wonderland, and my hands start to slide all over my torso, one wandering closer to the homeland.
I perch one foot on a bench built into the tile and slide my hand between my legs, pushing my fingers between my folds, and imagine that it’s Nate’s fingers making me crazy. My other hand plucks at a nipple and suddenly Nate is behind me, his body pressed to mine, his arms wrapped around me and I jump, startled. I was so wrapped up in my little fantasy I didn’t hear him join me.
“Don’t stop,” he whispers in my ear. “Keep touching yourself.”
I shake my head and lean back against his chest, suddenly shy. He nibbles my neck and grabs my hand in his, guiding it back down between my legs.
“Want me to help?”
“Yes,” I sigh and arch my back as he pushes my fingers through my folds again, rubbing back and forth and up over my clit, then back down to my labia.
“Oh, God,” I moan. It feels so good, and just a little naughty. I try to pull my hand away to let him continue on his own, but he grabs it again in a firm hold.
“You don’t know what it does to me to see you pleasure yourself, Julianne.” His words are soft, hypnotizing and so sexy, and I can feel his hard-on against my ass. Our hands continue their assault, and he presses my palm against my clit and bites that spot on my neck, just behind my ear, and I feel my body start to shudder. I come against our hands, rocking and pushing against them, crying out his name.
Nate spins me around and pins me against the cold tile wall, leaning his torso against me, his cock pressed to my belly, and his lips are on mine, kissing me voraciously. I run my hands over his sides to his back and down to cup his very fine, very firm ass in my hands and squeeze.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls and cups my ass to lift me. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” I do and he eases himself inside me, slowly, his forehead leaning against mine, gray eyes burning with lust and need. I tangle his wet hair in my fingers and hold on as he begins to ease himself in and out of me, faster and faster, our breathing ragged and harsh. His eyes never leave mine as he pushes and pulls harder, faster, and I feel my legs clench tighter around him, another orgasm moving though me.
“Come on, baby, give it to me,” he whispers against my lips, and his words are my undoing.
