Chapter 69

The One Where She’s Shook

A R I E L L E

I pace back and forth down the hallway. Am I drunk? Potentially, I don’t even know at this point. I can hear the noise of music behind me, of chatter that I don’t care to make out.

But my mind can’t stop thinking about what lies in that bathroom. About the sin that I’ve already committed. About the boundaries I’ve crossed and could potentially cross. About the man I can’t stay away from.

I take a final glance back towards the main room, observing James in conversation with people. He seems like he’s enveloped in whatever they’re talking about. He’s distracted.

I don’t second guess myself, I sprint back towards the darkened bathroom. I find Nate still inside, running his hands through his hair desperately.

I do exactly what he did to me maybe five minutes ago—I shut the door behind me, ensuring the lock is depressed and charge towards him.

“Arielle—” he tries to call out my name, but he can’t let another word slip out because my mouth descends upon his.

He’s quick to react, wrapping his hands to either side of my waist to pull my body flush to his. “Fuck,” he comments between kisses, “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“I don’t know how much time we have,” I tell him as his mouth trails downwards where he drags his tongue along my carotid artery and around the shell of my ear.

“We’d better make the most of it then, yeah?” In a quick motion, he has me pinned against the wall and his one hand gathers my wrists together to lift them above my head. The other wraps around my throat as crashes his mouth down onto mine.

I arch my back off the surface, desperate to feel him—to absorb all of this. I’m breathless when he pulls away, dropping my arms only momentarily to drag the straps of my bodysuit down so he’s able to take a pierced nipple between his lips.

I cry out and he lifts his head with a smirk on his lips. For the second time, he uses his hands to lift my own above my head. “You need to be quiet, my love.”

“What’re you gonna’ do if I’m not? Spank me?”

“If that’s what it takes. I’ll leave your ass red with my handprints and your pussy wet and dripping.”

“You’d just leave me when I’m begging for you?”

He uses a single hand to reach downwards, groping my breast in his palm. I wet my lips as the cold of his ring touches my skin. When he realizes what I’m reacting to, he drags the cool metal around my nipple and I nearly lose it.

“I’d have to, Babygirl. Your boyfriend would beat the shit out of me if he caught you bent over the vanity with my cock buried in you.”

I swallow with difficulty, pussy clenching at the sound of that. He observes my reaction. “You get off on that, don’t you?”

I don’t answer, I don’t need to. He knows me better than I fucking know myself.

The hand that was drawing circles around my nipple goes even lower, until he’s managed to unfasten the button to my jeans and the zipper is yanked down.

He kisses me hungrily, stripping my hips of my jeans. He manages to pull them down to my knees as I awkwardly wiggle to help him, all the while tracing shapes in my mouth with his tongue.

I don’t have a second to react when he suddenly pulls my bodysuit to the side and plunges two fingers deep into my pussy. My mouth falls open to moan, but he’s quick to shut me up by kissing the sound right from me.

He uses those two fingers to fuck me, angling his hand so that the heel of his palm hits my clit with each motion. “Fuck,” I say breathlessly, trying my best to keep quiet.

“Leave your arms above your head,” he demands and my mind is so jumbled that I have to triple think to fully understand what he’s told me. He moves the hand that was holding my wrists up, grabbing my left breast. He kneads it for a moment before ducking his head to take my barbell between his lips. He applies a bit of pressure with his teeth and the world blurs around me, too many pleasurable sensations at once.

“Nate, I—” I try to speak but the pace his has on my pussy is relentless. When he sucks a nipple between his lips, I can’t even see straight. “Nate, I love you,” I manage to breathe out.

My wrists twitch, knuckles hitting the drywall as I clench my fists to keep from reaching out to touch him.

There’s pressure on my throat again and he comes into focus, face close to mine. His fingers squeeze on my neck, “What was that, Babygirl?”

“I love you,” I reiterate, on the brink of orgasm.

He smirks. “I love you,” he returns. “I always have and I always will. Forever.”

The sound of that has me coming around his digits. When I’m about to cry out in euphoria, he applies the slightest of pressure to my neck which cuts off enough oxygen that I’m unable to scream like I’d like to. It only makes the orgasm last longer, feeling like a never-ending wave.

When his fingers retract from my body, I feel empty, hollow without his touch. He holds eye contact with me, sucking those fingers between his lips to clean them off.

I’ve barely registered having come before he spins me, forcing my face to the wall and my ass arched out in his direction. His large hand smooths over the surface of my bare ass and I can’t help but laugh quietly.

I know he wants to spank me and he can’t. It’d make too much noise.

I think he knows what I’m amused by because when I feel his hot breath against the shell of my ear, he whispers, “We’ll have to save that for next time, yeah?”

He grips my hips and pulls me flush to him, to his cock that is straining against his jeans. I whimper, biting down on my lip as he grabs my hair in his hand, using it to pull my head back. His lips attack my throat, sucking lightly into the skin—light enough to bring that wonderful edge of pain mixed with pleasure, but not enough to actually mark me.

He runs his tongue over my pulse point, feeling it pound hotly beneath my skin. I can feel the fabric of our clothing between us and it’s hot as hell, aware that we want each other so badly that we can’t be bothered to undress.

There’s something different about the way he touches me, as if he’s worshipping every inch of my skin. Like he’s studied each curve and dent to memory and could carve a marble statue of my body while blinded.

Eventually, I feel him take a step back and the familiar sound of a zipper rasping fills the space. I can feel his eyes on me, admiring the curve of my back that I further curve for his pleasure.

When his palm runs along my hip, I try to prepare myself. He starts by teasing my clit with the head of his cock as I writhe against the drywall with impatience.

However, when he meets the entrance to my pussy, he doesn’t waste any time. He thrusts right in, as deep as he can go.

A curse word escapes from deep within him and he takes a moment to control himself. His hand dances down my spine, running along the bones to drive me wild.

Then he starts thrusting—deep, slow thrusts that have me trying to desperately grip the flat surface before me. Nate reaches around, grabbing one of my breasts, fingers playing with my nipple piercing. It forces my shoulder blades to his chest, back still arched as he fucks me.

He moves back until the head of his cock is just barely inside me, torturing me, tormenting me. He knows how much I love the tease, to be edged until I’m begging for release like I need my next breath.

I can tell this isn’t going to last long. So much anticipation, so many nights spent without one another only means we’re both going insane.

Nate ‘s mouth comes to my ear again and he listens to my quiet whimpers, releasing his own soft grunts against my skin. “Mine,” he growls possessively and I clench around him.

His.

Always.

I’m so lost in him that when a knock sounds at the door, it startles me. However, I’m so close to climaxing again that it doesn’t even register in my brain.

“Arielle—” I hear my name being called, but I can’t even think straight. Was that Nate? Or someone else?

Two loud pounds on the door.

“Arielle! Are you in there?”

Fuck, it’s James.

However, Nate hasn’t stopped and I don’t want him to. I’m so fucking close to coming, that all I need is like forty more seconds.

Nate ‘s fingers toy with my clit and I lull my head back to rest on his chest as my eyes roll to the back of my head.

So fucking close.

“Arielle! Are you in there with him? With Nate?” His voice is loud, angry, hurt.

“C’mon, my girl, come for me.” Nate encourages as he speeds up his pace and I feel that familiar twinge at the base of my spine.

Then the door swings open.

I leap up with a gasp, clutching my chest.

What the fuck?

I look around, realizing that I’m in my bedroom. Raking my hand through my hair, I sigh, taking a second to calm my racing heart.

That was all just a dream? Jesus, it felt so fucking real.

I shift uncomfortably, feeling wetness deep between my thighs. A dream that felt real enough that it was basically a fucking wet dream. Christ.

I take a moment to control my breathing, trying not to decipher what it represents. I glance over at James. He’s deep asleep with his chest to the mattress and his head facing opposite me. I observe the way his back rises and falls as he breathes and I mimic it.

It’s light outside, although it’s hard to tell because of the way James pulled the curtains last night. I note that it’s already after ten, so I decide to just get up for the day.

I scamper quietly into my bathroom and quickly have a shower. As much as I’d love to stand under the hot water and relax for a while, I know that if I do that, I’ll be in there for longer than I should be, thinking over everything that happened last night.

As well as that fucking dream.

When I exit the bathroom, James has awoken and is sitting on the edge of the mattress, rubbing the cobwebs of sleep from his eyes. “Good morning,” he mutters, squinting in my direction as the light blinds him.

I saunter over to him and he glances up at me as I approach, eyes scanning over the towel wrapped tightly around my body. I try to ignore the way it feels, but it just reminds me of my dream. Of the sound of hurt in his voice at discovering Nate and I.