“Please.” I needed his c**k in me, not his fingers—his body on top of mine, weighing me down, doing just as he described.
Wrapping his other arm around me, he lifted me off the ground, hand still f**king my pu**y, and guided us over to the kitchen table. The back of my thighs dug into the edge.
“You’re going to f**king come all over my fingers, and then I might think about giving you my cock.”
A tearless sob shook me and his hand moved faster as his hips rocked his c**k against my thigh. The heat and friction was driving me crazy with want. His fingers curled inside, and my eyes flew open, back arching against him again and again until I snapped, screaming out.
His fingers left me, and he lined up and slammed his c**k in my pu**y before the first waves were done. My orgasm hiccuped, or at least that was what it felt like when he filled me. I wasn’t even through my first when his c**k forced me to my second.
I could barely breathe, and my body was shaking. That was two almost right in a row.
He kept pushing me for more, thrusting harder and faster. My pu**y was twitching, still coming down from the last high. His hips angled up, hitting my sweet spot while his fingers pinched my clit. Three was the most I’d ever come in one session. I was done, but it seemed he was determined to force one more out of me.
My nails dug into his forearm as my body tensed, coiled so tight I thought I would burst. It felt like I was about to pee, and I was desperate to keep it in but too tired to care. Something exploded from me, and it was more than just my orgasm. I screamed out, crying as wave after wave coursed through me.
I couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak; I could only feel the light, boneless weightlessness. My mind was clear, my body tired, and I collapsed, unable to hold myself up any longer.
“Holy… Damn… Shit.” Nathan’s curses were followed by him tensing as well, his body jerking as he spilled inside me.
Once he was done, he fell down on me, both of us breathing heavily. Neither of us moved, both spent.
“What the f**k was that?” I asked once I could breathe again.
Nathan sat back and looked down at where we were joined and now thoroughly soaked.
“I think you just squirted.” He beamed at me, proud of himself. “Damn, I’m good.”
“If my arms had any strength in them, I’d swat at you.” I chuckled with a tired, drained sound. I was drained. My entire body empty of all energy to move.
“If my legs had any strength, I’d be back inside you right now, making you do that again.” He chuckled and sighed, sounding more than high. He sounded like he’d died and gone to a sinner’s heaven.
It couldn’t be more true—Nathan was the war God of sex.
CHAPTER 3
It took a while to recoup from our activities and to resume cooking dinner. A nap followed by a shower killed a few hours. The sun had set long ago, and there wasn’t much left of the day.
My leg muscles quivered as I stood at the counter. They were weak from all the things Nathan did to me, and threatened to give out. As I pulled the pasta out of the pantry, I looked at the trash can. I had to throw everything out, and even considered pitching the burned pot. Nathan boasted about his ability to clean it, and I was giving him the opportunity to prove it before throwing it away.
He also promised to clean up the…mess by the kitchen table.
The cracking noise of the pasta breaking as I put it in the pot covered up all other sound, so I didn’t hear Nathan as he stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Trying again? I thought we’d just order in.”
I shrugged. “Pasta is quick and easy, and I’m hungry.”
His lips pressed against my neck. “Me too. I worked up an appetite.”
He let go and backed away, heading over to the now warm bottle of wine and placing it in the fridge.
I grabbed a slotted spoon from the drawer and stirred, breaking up the pasta so it didn’t clump. “Guess that will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“It’s not going to go bad.” He pulled out the butter and pasta sauce and placed them on the counter. “So, now that I have income again, let’s talk about the wedding.” I stopped stirring the pasta and turned to look at him. He arched his brow at me. “What?”
“I… Well, what kind of wedding do you want?”
He shook his head. “This is your thing. Plus, I’ve already done it. Isn’t it what women dream about and begin planning in the womb?”
I pursed my lips. He’d already had a big wedding when he married Grace, but did he want another one? “Maybe normal women, but I’m not exactly normal.”
“You are normal, but the way you grew up makes you unique.” His eyes softened the way they always did when I talked about my upbringing.
Hopefully that would change soon, and my abusive past would fade away. Adam’s trial date was set, and we were all ready to give our depositions in a few weeks.
“Oh, you’re a smooth talker tonight.”
He chuckled and ran his hand up and down my arms. “Honeybear, I just want to marry you. I don’t care how it happens. I’m sure you’ve thought at some point about getting married.”
I shook my head and returned to cooking. “I was pretty sure it wasn’t in the cards for me, so why waste my time dreaming about something that was never going to happen? There was no Prince Charming in my fantasies.”
“Well, there’s one in your life now.”
I quirked my brow at him. “You, charming?”
“I am very charming.” His lip twitched as a smile grew on his face. “In fact, I bet I can charm you right out of your clothes.”
“Hasn’t happened yet,” I said and stirred the pot.
His eyes went wide, and he stepped back. “Ouch! You’re feisty tonight.”
I sighed and looked up at him. “Can we just go to the courthouse?”
His lips formed a straight line and his brow crinkled, the light in his eyes dimming. “Is that really what you want?”
There was a pain in my chest from the expression on his face. “What else would I want besides you?”
He shrugged. “Flowers, friends and family—a beautiful dress?”
My mind whirled with that information. Was that what I wanted? Or was the quick and simple trip down the street the way to do it?
The more I thought about it, he was right—at one point in my life, I did think about a wedding. Long ago, back when I believed in Disney fairy tales, before the monsters of Grimm-like creations took away my childhood innocence, replacing it with fear-induced obedience and solitude. The days when my mom was still alive.
Wrapping his other arm around me, he lifted me off the ground, hand still f**king my pu**y, and guided us over to the kitchen table. The back of my thighs dug into the edge.
“You’re going to f**king come all over my fingers, and then I might think about giving you my cock.”
A tearless sob shook me and his hand moved faster as his hips rocked his c**k against my thigh. The heat and friction was driving me crazy with want. His fingers curled inside, and my eyes flew open, back arching against him again and again until I snapped, screaming out.
His fingers left me, and he lined up and slammed his c**k in my pu**y before the first waves were done. My orgasm hiccuped, or at least that was what it felt like when he filled me. I wasn’t even through my first when his c**k forced me to my second.
I could barely breathe, and my body was shaking. That was two almost right in a row.
He kept pushing me for more, thrusting harder and faster. My pu**y was twitching, still coming down from the last high. His hips angled up, hitting my sweet spot while his fingers pinched my clit. Three was the most I’d ever come in one session. I was done, but it seemed he was determined to force one more out of me.
My nails dug into his forearm as my body tensed, coiled so tight I thought I would burst. It felt like I was about to pee, and I was desperate to keep it in but too tired to care. Something exploded from me, and it was more than just my orgasm. I screamed out, crying as wave after wave coursed through me.
I couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak; I could only feel the light, boneless weightlessness. My mind was clear, my body tired, and I collapsed, unable to hold myself up any longer.
“Holy… Damn… Shit.” Nathan’s curses were followed by him tensing as well, his body jerking as he spilled inside me.
Once he was done, he fell down on me, both of us breathing heavily. Neither of us moved, both spent.
“What the f**k was that?” I asked once I could breathe again.
Nathan sat back and looked down at where we were joined and now thoroughly soaked.
“I think you just squirted.” He beamed at me, proud of himself. “Damn, I’m good.”
“If my arms had any strength in them, I’d swat at you.” I chuckled with a tired, drained sound. I was drained. My entire body empty of all energy to move.
“If my legs had any strength, I’d be back inside you right now, making you do that again.” He chuckled and sighed, sounding more than high. He sounded like he’d died and gone to a sinner’s heaven.
It couldn’t be more true—Nathan was the war God of sex.
CHAPTER 3
It took a while to recoup from our activities and to resume cooking dinner. A nap followed by a shower killed a few hours. The sun had set long ago, and there wasn’t much left of the day.
My leg muscles quivered as I stood at the counter. They were weak from all the things Nathan did to me, and threatened to give out. As I pulled the pasta out of the pantry, I looked at the trash can. I had to throw everything out, and even considered pitching the burned pot. Nathan boasted about his ability to clean it, and I was giving him the opportunity to prove it before throwing it away.
He also promised to clean up the…mess by the kitchen table.
The cracking noise of the pasta breaking as I put it in the pot covered up all other sound, so I didn’t hear Nathan as he stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Trying again? I thought we’d just order in.”
I shrugged. “Pasta is quick and easy, and I’m hungry.”
His lips pressed against my neck. “Me too. I worked up an appetite.”
He let go and backed away, heading over to the now warm bottle of wine and placing it in the fridge.
I grabbed a slotted spoon from the drawer and stirred, breaking up the pasta so it didn’t clump. “Guess that will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“It’s not going to go bad.” He pulled out the butter and pasta sauce and placed them on the counter. “So, now that I have income again, let’s talk about the wedding.” I stopped stirring the pasta and turned to look at him. He arched his brow at me. “What?”
“I… Well, what kind of wedding do you want?”
He shook his head. “This is your thing. Plus, I’ve already done it. Isn’t it what women dream about and begin planning in the womb?”
I pursed my lips. He’d already had a big wedding when he married Grace, but did he want another one? “Maybe normal women, but I’m not exactly normal.”
“You are normal, but the way you grew up makes you unique.” His eyes softened the way they always did when I talked about my upbringing.
Hopefully that would change soon, and my abusive past would fade away. Adam’s trial date was set, and we were all ready to give our depositions in a few weeks.
“Oh, you’re a smooth talker tonight.”
He chuckled and ran his hand up and down my arms. “Honeybear, I just want to marry you. I don’t care how it happens. I’m sure you’ve thought at some point about getting married.”
I shook my head and returned to cooking. “I was pretty sure it wasn’t in the cards for me, so why waste my time dreaming about something that was never going to happen? There was no Prince Charming in my fantasies.”
“Well, there’s one in your life now.”
I quirked my brow at him. “You, charming?”
“I am very charming.” His lip twitched as a smile grew on his face. “In fact, I bet I can charm you right out of your clothes.”
“Hasn’t happened yet,” I said and stirred the pot.
His eyes went wide, and he stepped back. “Ouch! You’re feisty tonight.”
I sighed and looked up at him. “Can we just go to the courthouse?”
His lips formed a straight line and his brow crinkled, the light in his eyes dimming. “Is that really what you want?”
There was a pain in my chest from the expression on his face. “What else would I want besides you?”
He shrugged. “Flowers, friends and family—a beautiful dress?”
My mind whirled with that information. Was that what I wanted? Or was the quick and simple trip down the street the way to do it?
The more I thought about it, he was right—at one point in my life, I did think about a wedding. Long ago, back when I believed in Disney fairy tales, before the monsters of Grimm-like creations took away my childhood innocence, replacing it with fear-induced obedience and solitude. The days when my mom was still alive.
