Chapter 83

The One With A Sense Of Calm

A R I E L L E

Shimmying the dress up my torso, I adjust the corseted piece until it’s as comfortable as it’s going to get and then I saunter to my tall mirror and admire the article of clothing, smoothing my hand over the silken fabric. The dress is tight to my frame, with straps that rest off the shoulders. The skirt length sits at about my knee, however, it’s a sort of draped-like look that meets at a rather high slit—at the top of my thigh—exposing the entire front of my left leg.

When I’d bought the dress, it came in multiple colours. I would’ve chosen the blue, but Nate ‘s favourite colour is red, so I went with that instead. And as I spin in front of the mirror, I appreciate the colour. I can see why he always encourages me to wear it, with the way it accentuates the tan of my skin and brings out the darkness of my hair, which makes my eyes pop.

As I smooth my palm over my belly, I think about the fact that I legitimately believed I was carrying someone’s baby only like a week and a half ago. I’ll admit, the thought still scares me a bit and I can promise I’ve been fucking on top of making sure I take my pill.

The pregnancy scare sort of rocked my world for a bit. Even though the doctor assured me I wasn’t pregnant, it still took a couple days before I rejoiced at the sight of blood. It sounds ridiculous when I think about it, but it was a relief to me at that time. It still is. Neither of us were ready for a child.

I shake the thoughts off, putting on my heeled sandals to do up the small buckle on each to secure them to my feet. Grabbing my clutch, I touch up the red lipstick I put on earlier to match the dress—knowing it’s going to drive him wild—and as I’m doing so, Nate exits from our ensuite bathroom and I hear a hiss that sounds like he’s hurt himself.

I turn, concerned, to find that he’s giving me a look that reads instead of going on this dinner date, he’d much rather push me up against the wall, hike my dress up, and fuck me hard enough to dent the drywall. The look satisfies me and I smirk.

“Arielle—” My name is intimate on his tongue. Pained, even, as his eyes trail up and down my body. Heat instantly spreads throughout my body like sunlight breaking through a cloud in the sky, slowly rolling over each and every part of me.

I do the same as he’s doing, taking in each piece of what he’s wearing. He’s in a suit. Black in colour, with glossy, black dress shoes that make his feet look massive, a crisp, white button-up dress shirt, and a sleek long, tie that opposes the shirt. With his blue hair, he looks incredible and I’m suddenly wishing he’d do just what I was imagining earlier.

I shift my legs, positive we won’t make it through dinner without fucking.

Everywhere his eyes touch sparks. It starts a fire, a heat, that roars in my veins. He runs a hand lazily over the stubble on his chin, knocking the earring that hangs from his ear. He’s so beautiful that it physically pains me to look at him.

In four quick strides, his chest crashes into mine, his hands cupping my face to unite our mouths. The force of him charging to me causes me to take a step backwards and I grab onto his wrists to steady myself. When he pulls away, he breathes, “You’re the most beautiful thing to exist.”

He pauses, ducking his head to peer into my eyes. “And when we get home, I’m going to fuck you with this dress still on.” As he says the promise, I press my thighs together. I can’t help it, his words are like some sort of incendiary device, causing my blood to instantly flame.

He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Instead, he pushes his perfectly structured face into mine, giving his word that he’ll follow through. I melt under his touch, coming alive beneath it. He’s the lightning and I’m simply a conductor—we were always bound to meet.

Nate rests his forehead against mine, as we catch our breath. “We should get to dinner,” he points out, although he’s not very convincing because his hands trail downwards until he’s grabbing my ass in the one. The other one makes it way back upwards until he grips the necklace of his name that I wear every day since he gave it to me.

“You said the reservations at eight, didn’t you?”

He nods, seeming to mentally shake himself out of whatever trance he was in. He extends his hand towards me and I take it, intertwining our fingers as he leads me down the hall. I lock the house up before we leave and he opens the door to his Camaro for me, helping me to seat myself inside.

He hops in the driver’s seat, starts it up and we’re quickly on the road. I stare out the window as we make our way to the restaurant, the music playing lowly on the radio. It’s a comfortable silence, but it’s short lived because within a matter of ten minutes, we’re already turning into the parking lot and Nate parks us in a secluded corner.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, as does Nate, but when I move to open the door, he stops me by calling my name. I turn to see what he’s calling me for, to find his mouth as he presses it to mine.

“Come n’ ride me, babygirl,” he growls against my lips.

I smirk, peering around at where we are—in a fucking parking lot—releasing a soft laugh. “You serious? Here?”

“I thought I could wait until we got back home, but I want you now. My cock’s been rock hard since I came out of the bathroom.” As he confesses the words, his eyes concentrate on my mouth, which he traces the shape of with his thumb.

“We’ll be late for dinner,” I protest, although I’m honestly not putting up much of a fight.

“It’ll be fine.”

“And if someone sees us and we get arrested for public indecency?”

“I thought you liked an audience.” His eyebrow is raised, an amused look on his face. “Now, c’mon. The longer you pretend you don’t want my cock inside you, the later we are for dinner.”

He pulls the handle on the side of the seat, pushing it back and then desperately undoes his belt and the button to his dress pants, tugging them and his underwear down to his knees.

As he’s doing that, I’m gently pulling the hem of my dress up my hips. I place my clutch down in my seat and then begin to crawl over the centre console. It’s awkward, but by the time I’m on Nate ‘s side of the vehicle, he’s gripping his cock in anticipation. I straddle him as best as I’m able to and when Nate ‘s fingers brush over my panties in order to pull them aside, I suck in a breath, licking my lips.

His finger brushes against my clit—torturously slow—and I lean forward to kiss him hungrily. At the same time his tongue pushes past my lips, he slides two fingers deep inside me and I rock into the feeling. A car horn echoes somewhere, but I’m so enveloped in Nate that it doesn’t even register to my brain.

Eventually, I’m forced to pull away from his mouth to catch my breath. He removes his fingers from deep inside me, holding eye contact with me as he slides them into his mouth. Jesus Christ.

When I reunite our mouths—my tongue making its way to his—he groans. I can taste myself on him and that mixture of him and I is enough to make my head spin. I feel his hand brushing against my body as he strokes himself while I adjust above him, before he lines himself up with my pussy and in a careful, slow motion, I sink down onto his cock.

The connection is so intense, like it always is, that we simultaneously shudder, meeting one another’s gaze because we’re the only ones that truly understand it. It’s powerful. It’s all consuming. It’s impossible to ignore. It’s the rarest thing I know to exist.

As much as I’d love to savour the moment, we’re fucking in a parking lot and can honestly be found at any moment. With that in mind—and frankly, wanting to get off before we potentially are caught—I grip his shoulders and start bouncing on his lap. His hands wander everywhere, exploring whatever pieces of skin he’s able to find.

I was nearly spilling out of the dress when I put it on, but in this seated position on his lap, my tits are pushed right up and Nate takes that to his advantage. In fact, with one finger hooked under the corseted area, the fabric is yanked down and my tits are free for his mouth to latch onto. Which, he does. He sucks a nipple between his lips and bites gently to create that sensation of pain he knows I love.

I fuck him so hard that the belt that once held his dress pants up is now clanging against the centre console of his Camaro. Everything else around us is simply background noise—all I’m able to register is him and I and his hands on my skin.

The feeling of the fabric of our clothing still preventing us from being skin to skin is exciting. It’s the idea that we are so desperate to fuck that we can’t be bothered to undress. Fuck, we couldn’t even make it into the restaurant without fucking and I knew this would happen.

I steady myself with a hand against the roof of his car, speeding up the pace of my hips. Nate ‘s hands on my waist aid me, helping me in my movements above him. As I lean forward to place my hands on either side of his head, he angles his head forward, taking one of my nipple piercings between his mouth and I cum instantly.

He muffles my cry of ecstasy by wrapping a large palm around my nape to descend my mouth upon his. I collapse against his chest, absolutely spent, but when he begins thrusting his hips up into mine and grunts in the sexiest tone I think I’ve ever heard, I whimper.

He reaches a hand down, rubbing short, quick circles against my clit, while his other hand—which still rests on my nape—applies a bit of pressure, forcing my forehead to his. He holds eye contact with me, only momentarily breaking it to press a lingering kiss to my mouth. “I love you, Arielle,” he tells me amidst the sounds we’re creating in the small space of his car. “I love you,” he reiterates.

I grab either side of his face, returning the sentiment, “I love you.”

With another two thrusts and a pinch of my clit between two of his large fingers, we both cum at the same time in deep exhales that we attempt to keep quiet, considering where we are. The jolt of ecstasy tears through my insides, surely the first lightning strike of an oncoming storm. My tits quite literally shove themselves into his face as my spine curves, and I feel him collapse his head forward between them, his breath hot and short against my chest as he catches it.

“Fuck,” he curses, which causes me to laugh. I peer at the foggy windows, then at my dress, which is barely even on my body anymore and I can’t help it—the laughter erupts deep in my chest, causing him to join me.

We clean ourselves up as best as we’re able to—him fixing his suit while I fix my dress—and I take a final glance in the visor mirror before Nate helps me out of the car and to the front door. One of his hands glides lower on my back, a possessiveness to his touch that brands me his for everyone in the restaurant to see.

When we step inside, I excuse myself to the bathroom to properly clean myself up and Nate does the same. We meet up back at the entrance, where he quickly wraps a protective arm around my waist to rest on the opposing hip. As we approach the podium and tell the woman what name the reservation is under, the woman there clearly checks Nate out and I roll my eyes.

Nate sees my sass and as she leads us to our table, he spanks a hand over my ass as a warning.

Eventually, she stops at a small table that’s more private. It’s covered with a white cloth, adorning three different sized floating candles in the centre. Nothing overly special, but it’s still beautiful.

“Someone will be around to take your orders in a few minutes,” she assures us, leaving us alone.

I slide into the booth, trying to keep a bit of distance between myself and Nate for the simple fact that we seem rather secluded where we are and we all know what happened the last time we were in a position like this. However, Nate seems insistent that we sit closely, sliding into the booth and then grabbing my hips to pull me closer.

He leans in, his breath hot against my ear as he warns, “We’re all alone.”

I nod, not trusting my voice as I observe the other people in the distance of the restaurant as they eat their meals. Nate ‘s seated in the perfect position—to my left—where the slit in my dress is high enough that there isn’t much keeping him from wandering there. He’s clearly aware of that, because he puts his large right hand down on my bare thigh, his pinky finger teasing along the edge of my dress.

I suck in a breath, the cold rings on his fingers causing goosebumps against my already hot skin.

“Hi!” I jolt in surprise when the waitress appears much sooner than expected. “I—” She starts to introduce herself, I think, but when her eyes finally take in Nate, she too, blatantly checks him out. When she thinks I’m not paying attention, she adjusts the top of her uniform undoing a button.

Is this bitch serious right now?

“I’m Kate,” she brushes hair over her shoulder and moves to position herself closer to Nate ‘s side of the table. “Can I start you with something to drink?” Her eyes never leave Nate as she inquires.

“Wine and some water—for both of us,” Nate answers, glancing over his menu. He seems completely disinterested in her—as my man should—and it causes me to stifle laughter behind my own menu.

“Sure, red or white?”

“Red,” I tell her.

“Bring whatever you have that’s most expensive.” Nate demands and then leans in closer to me, “Are you ready to order? ‘Cause I am.” His hand brushes along my thigh and I can’t help but feel like he’s rather impatient to get out of here.

I don’t blame him.

I nod my head. Nate orders the grilled beef tenderloin, while I get the chicken Marsala.

When she leaves, I want to chase after her and slap her. Especially when I observe her putting in our order and then clearly gossiping about us instead of getting us our drinks. I don’t deal with this petty high school bullshit. The man is taken and he’s not interested, I think that’s quite obvious, so back the fuck off.

Although, I’ll admit, it’s fucking hilarious that Nate has barely glanced in her direction. He doesn’t even fully look at her when she’s talking to him. I don’t think he’s doing it to be rude, either. He simply just doesn’t want to pay much attention to anything other than me and I love it. He probably couldn’t even tell me her name right now.

“Nate?”

“Yeah, babe?” His thumb traces lazy circles on my skin.

“What’s the waitress’ name again?”

His eyebrows furrow together, “Shannon?” He pauses, genuinely thinking it over, “Carmen? No, Karen?”

I laugh, unable to hold it in. He seems confused, but doesn’t question me on it since Kate brings us our drinks.