Nash (Marked Men #4)(71)

He let my legs slither to either side of him and traced a pattern on the soft skin right below my br**sts.

“You are so sweet. Inside and out.” His voice was gruff, so I reached down so that I could pull him up and over me.

He always said stuff like that to me. Told me I was beautiful, told me I was nice and fun to be around. He often told me I was his favorite in bed. I never replied to any of it, but there was no getting past what he had just given to me.

“Thank you.” It sounded rusty and underused to my own ears. Taking a compliment shouldn’t be that hard. The way Nash saw me, the reflection of myself in those endlessly purple eyes, was the most beautiful thing in the world, and I was having a much harder time pretending like I didn’t see exactly what he saw in me.

My simple words had shadows and light shifting in his beautiful eyes. He levered himself up and over me in a stiff push-up so that I could work his boxers off and around his straining erection. It sprang free, thick and ready, wearing a new adornment. I blinked at it and then looked up at him in question.

“Why is your penis wearing a ring?”

He snorted out a laugh that I think had more to do with the clinical term for the body part in question than it did with my actual question.

“I just switched out the barbell.”

Behind the ridge of the head of his engorged erection was a thin hoop that circled the entire circumference of his cock. The little silver ring was fascinating. I wasn’t an expert on body piercing by anyone’s standards, but I had never seen anything like it, especially paired with that piercing at the tip that he used to its full advantage and I had to admit I was a huge fan of.

“Your dick is wearing jewelry.”

That made him laugh for real and he hooked an arm around my shoulders and rolled us over so that I was straddling him. He stacked his hands behind his head and grinned up at me.

“I like to switch it up. It’ll feel good, trust me.”

I didn’t doubt it, and for the first time since we started having sex, I really wished I wasn’t so scarred, so scared about talking to him about what this thing we were doing really was. If it was a relationship, a committed partnership, I would be on birth control and get to feel all that hard and hot flesh against the cool slide of metal without latex between us. That sounded divine and I was mad at myself for being my own stumbling block in figuring my life out, in figuring out what I was doing with this gorgeous and engaging man.

I leaned back and dug around in his nightstand for the box of condoms I knew was in there. While I was all stretched out he used his thumbs to trace the line of my ribs on each side of my body. He was always so reverent, so tactile, when he put his hands on me. Even a simple caress like that had my heart rate speeding up and my blood heating in anticipation.

Before I covered him, I took a few minutes to play with his new hardware. The ridge it left, the way it got hot against his skin, promised a good time for sure. I wanted to put it in my mouth but he stopped me with hands in my hair.

“Not this time.”

I lifted an eyebrow at him as he took the condom from me and covered himself. He urged me up higher on my knees and placed me over the tip of his straining erection. I got that he was trying to make a point. That he was trying to show me something I just wouldn’t accept or hear, but there were two of us involved in this and I wanted to make sure he knew just how much I felt for him as well. I was just confused about it and trying to be realistic, keep it all in a box I was comfortable with.

I didn’t get the chance to reciprocate the feeling or emotion because he tugged me down over him and I lost the ability to think. Nash was a big guy, everywhere. He was already thick and turgid, so after that initial penetration, having that ring he was wearing stretch me apart even further, having it drag along my sensitive inner flesh with a rolling, warm glide … it made me incapable of being able to do anything but feel. The pressure was greater than usual, the slither of our internal flesh was sexier. I thought I was going to come before he even got all the way inside of me.

“Oh my …” I’m pretty sure my eyes rolled all the way back in my skull.

He chuckled, which only made the sensation sharper, and I pried my eyes open to look down at him once he was fully seated inside of me. I think he liked it best when I was on top because I had no choice but to look at him. Right now he looked smug and pleased with himself.

“It gets better. You have to move, Saint.” He lifted both of his hands and cupped each of my br**sts.

I threw my head back and groaned. I took his advice and did as he asked. I started to ride him, the up and down, the pull and push of that hoop plus his PA all along the inside of me, was so good. I curled my hands on his chest and watched him watch me. If it was possible, his eyes got darker and darker the closer I got. I shifted, clamped down on him, listening to his breath come faster and faster and reveling in the way his chest moved up and down more rapidly. I was close, so close, and knew if I asked him to touch me just a little bit more or just reached between my legs to touch myself, it would be done. I opened my mouth to plead with him, to ask him to finish it, but before I got the words out, he suddenly jackknifed up into a sitting position and rolled us over.

He was looming over me, his hand clasping either side of my face. His expression turned a little wild, and when I went to ask what was going on, he attacked my mouth and started moving in and out of me, thrusting against me, pounding inside of my body like a person possessed. All I could do was hold on for the ride because I was already too close to the edge. My nails dug hard enough into his shoulders that I felt the skin break. At the first stroke of his tongue against mine, the bite of his teeth against my lip, I broke apart under him in an orgasm that felt like it turned me inside out. I just clung to him, let him surge and heave inside of me until he buried his nose in the crook of my neck and groaned his own completion. That wasn’t just sex; that was Nash giving part of himself over to me to keep forever.