Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lainey

Nick’s hands clench in my hair, pulling the strands tight. Tears prick the corners of my eyes from the pain, but I don’t tell him to ease up. Not tonight. I want this. I want to feel everything. The pain, the ecstasy, the anticipation of both. The heavy weight of him on my tongue, the scent of him filling my lungs, the bite of the carpet into my knees; I store all those sensations inside of me so I can pull them out later in the darkness, in my loneliness.

I make my tongue a bed and glide my lips over the top of his shaft until the blunt head knocks at the back of my throat.

“Jesus, Lainey, this feels so good. Keep doing that. Take me a little deeper,” he coaxes.

I open as far as I can and swallow him down. It’s not easy. He’s a big man. I use my fist at his base to cover what my mouth can’t. His hips move against my mouth, thrusting lightly at first, as if to test my reaction.

Can you take this? His body asks mine.

Yes. I answer back by leaning into him.

“Your mouth is so sweet,” he says. “But it’s your big eyes that are killing me. Your eyes tell me everything, baby. How much you want me. How much you love having my cock in your mouth.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t wait until it’s my turn. I’m going to drive you crazy. You need to feel what it’s like to be me at this moment. Totally and completely in your possession.”

I want this to be our truth forever, but it’s only for tonight. Maybe it won’t be tomorrow, or even next week, but at some point there will be another girl kneeling before him. And she’ll take him into her mouth and her body. She’ll be the one looking up at him with doe eyes wanting nothing more than for him to shoot all of his seed down her throat. She’ll drink it up thinking that now she has him.

Then he’ll kiss her cheek, pat the top of her ass, and tell her that she was wonderful. He won’t make a promise to call because broken promises aren’t his thing. Love isn’t his thing. Ever after isn’t his thing.

Giving you everything he has in this one moment? That’s his thing. And silly girls like me gobble it up like poisonous berries on the forest floor. They’re so beautiful and we’re so hungry that we don’t care when the venom seeps from our belly into our veins.

I grab his hip and urge him forward. I want him to mark me, inside and out. I want to feel the pain in my throat when I swallow tomorrow. It’ll be a reminder of his fierce need for me. That I was here and he was with me.

He drives against me, his hips pistoning faster and harder until I’m filled with him. He explodes in my mouth. His harsh groan echoes in my ears.

When he pulls away, he’s still hard. An aroused Nick Jackson is a thing of beauty. His chest heaves. A damp sheen of sweat coats his musculature, highlighting all the hard planes. His eyes are dark and needy. The veins in his arms stand prominently under his skin.

“You drive me nuts,” he says as he leans down to pick me up off the floor. “I’m dizzy with want for you.”

“I need you, Nick.”

“Where?” He throws me onto the bed. “Tell me where and I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

I point to the throbbing area between my legs. “There. Kiss me there.”

He crawls up my body and settles against my side, one arm propping his head up, the other tracing the elastic top of my thong.

“Nowhere else? You don’t ache here?” He moves his hand up to my breast to pinch one nipple and then the other.

“Yes, you can kiss me there, too,” I tell him.

But he’s only begun to torture me.

“What about this spot?” He presses his index finger against the hollow of my throat at the same time his mouth finds the spot behind my ear that always makes me weak-kneed.

“If you must,” I joke.

“I think I need to explore a little, but I’m pretty good at multitasking.” His hand drifts down and tugs my thong to the side.

As he seals his lips over mine, his mouth swallows my gasp at the same time his nimble fingers slide inside. I writhe under him wanting more than his fingers, his clever tongue. With every touch and kiss and lick and bite, he simultaneously soothes and intensifies the ache.

His loving is slow and filled with serious intent. His mouth moves over mine with purpose; his fingers stroke me with sure knowledge. I give myself over to him, wallowing in the sensations he’s creating, focusing on the embers he’s fanning into flames.

His mouth leaves mine to trail down along my neck, the curve of my shoulder, the valley between my breasts. He finds my taut, hurting nipples and sucks them into his mouth. Silently, he calls up my desire. My body sings its response. I cradle his head in my hand. The soft hair of his legs rub against mine as he moves even lower.

My orgasm catches me by surprise. It cascades through my veins like a tidal bore traveling upstream toward my center. He murmurs his approval as he scissors his fingers inside, not allowing the sensation to subside but driving it harder and higher. My legs fall apart to make room for his broad shoulders.

And then his mouth is on my core. His intimate kiss is even more moving. His lips and tongue are worshipful as he drinks from the river of my need until I’m mindless and blind with want.

“Nick, now,” I tell him, my fingers digging into his head to pull him up. “I need you.”

He rises in one swift, graceful movement and glides into me without hesitation.

“This?” He thrusts forward hard. “Is this what you want?”

“More,” I say.

His eyes glitter as he braces one hand beside my head and reaches for my hip with his other. “You’re going to have bruises tomorrow.”

I reach up and swipe away the moisture around his mouth. “Bring it, babe. Make it hurt. Make me remember you.”

His rough hand bites into my skin as he slams forward. When I come again, it’s not just because of the fullness of his cock filling me, or the raw need glowing in his eyes, or even the harsh rasp of his breath as he drags air into his lungs. It’s all of it combined. It’s Nick, my heart, our past—the one he remembers and the one he doesn’t—the child I have that I wish was his. The love I’ll always have for him even though I know it’s not returned.

In this moment, it is not just my body. It is his. It is me. It is us.

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