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6 - Anastasia.
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2025-01-14 08:13:05I race back into my bedroom, burning up. I can't think straight, and my mind is a jumbled mess. Every inch of my body is on fire as I rummage through my cupboards for my laptop. I hid it because I know Dad would try to find it and either throw it in the bin or hide it in a place I'll never be able to find it again. Looking up suddenly, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. God, a mess is an understatement. I look like an ogre. Like a tornado picked me off my feet and threw me down a mountain, and I crawled my way back through the door before Nate arrived.
Which is strange because I looked decent before going out with Emerson this evening. As fast as I can, I run my fingers through my curls to straighten them, and swapped the tank top I'm wearing for a black, hairy, comfortable cardigan, grab the laptop, and get back to the living room where a waiting Nate is relaxed on the couch, his sexy thighs parted, looking like a male model on the front cover of a Vogue magazine.
"First things first, Sir — "
"Nate," he interrupts calmly, looking into my eyes in his usual, disarming way. "Please call me Nate."
"Alright Sir...I mean Nate," I chuckle nervously, taking my seat beside him. "There are a few things I'd like for you to keep in mind. This blog bears no ill intent. The news on it are not different from the ones put out by credible news outlets and the media. The only difference is that I add my own twang. My own style to make it witty and engaging."
"Don't worry about it," he guffaws, taking the laptop from me. "I don't judge. And I'm sure it's a brilliant blog."
He lifts the top and turns it on. Once connected to the house WIFI, I navigate it to Chrome and key in my website on the search bar, then hand it back to him. As he scrolls through slowly, taking in each headlines, I can see the wheels turning in his head as he put two and two together about my online identity.
"You're the controversial Mira Brawn?" he asks in disbelief, raising his face to glance at me.
I panic. And whenever I panic, I start blabbering. "Uh, yeah! It's just a secret I've not been willing to divulge to anyone else, because my parents have never supported this dream of mine. To own a famous blog that speaks on celebrities, and the world of pop culture and entertainment. So..."
He places a hand on my left thigh, and I instantly shut up. "Hey. It's okay. I'm not judging your or anything. Just surprised. That's all."
"D-Do you want a drink?" I blurt out without thinking. His hand on my thigh is warm, and it makes the moisture in between my legs burn hotter. If I couldn't think straight before, right now I can't think at all. My body is attuned to his touch.
It's crazy.
"Sure," he smiles. "Just water will be fine, Anna."
He takes his hand off, and my legs somehow take me to the kitchen where I lean against the door and exhale hard. God. My whole body is buzzing like crazy. Pouring two glasses of water at the sink, I take a deep breath.
Fuck. This must be a dream, right?
It all doesn't feel real at all.
Nate Jackson in my living room.
Nate Jackson, the man who's been nothing short of calm and polite since we first met. Nate Jackson, the man I've had sleepless nights over, lusting, wishing, wanting, is in my living room going through my blog.
'I'm not judging you. I know it's a brilliant blog.'
What if he didn't mean those words? What if he's silently judging me for being nosy, and exaggerating people's reality more than I should for the views? What if he closes the laptop, picks up his phone and calls the nearby radio station to let them in on who the famous Mira Brawn is, and where she lives? What if he makes a post about it? As these thoughts sift through my mind, I nearly drop the glass of water I'm holding. Suppressing the dizziness threatening to envelope me, I pick up his glass of water and head back to the living room, leaving mine back at the sink.
I'm thirsty, but not of water.
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Halting at the doorway to calm my racing heart, I stop and stare at him. God really took his time with him. He's so fucking hot — an absolute vision of masculinity; big hands, well-proportioned body, devilishly handsome facial features, sitting there in his suit like he owns the place, my laptop on his lap, and his gorgeous emerald-green eyes scanning the screen as he goes over my blog. Just being this close to him has my body on fire, and my mind shuffling through a host of filthy, filthy fantasies I'd give anything to have him act out with me.Have him teach me passion. Every touch. Every word. Every taste.As quietly as I can do as not to distract his reading, I tiptoe over to the couch, set his glass of water down in front of him, and plop down in place beside him again. He looks up at me briefly with a smile, then goes back to his reading. I'm a bundle of nerves, but I do my best to remain calm as he finishes up reading. I don't know if he read deeper. My blog is three years old,
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Nate continues tugging, and my pants continue moving down until they pass their sticking point on my hips and fall to the floor, leaving me completely naked before him. My chest rises with a sharp intake of breath. I feel as though I’m on the verge of something incredible, and when I look up into Nate’s eyes, I know I’m right.“Look at you,” he muses as he slips two fingers between my legs. I nearly jump at the sensation. “Perfect lips, no wonder you have a gorgeous little pussy too.”He takes my hand and guides it to the very obvious bulge in his pants, and I feel it – his cock, so hard and swollen, like a bat tucked down against his leg. I may never have touched a man like this before, but I’m aware enough to know that Nate has something serious going on down there.“I can’t take it any longer, Anastasia,” he says as he unbuckles his belt and begins to drop his pants. “I have to be inside you.”“Nate, I—”I want to explain to him that I’m a virgin, that this will be my first time an
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“Nosy bastard,” Emerson cusses under his breath as he fires up the ignition and backs out of the driveway. “There’s really no cogent reason he has for following me this evening. He just wants to be a dick. Too nice for his own damn good.”“He’s still your father, Emerson. Do you have any idea where he’s headed?”He shrugs. “Don’t know. Don’t care. And you shouldn’t either. He’s a grown man. He knows how to handle himself.”“Of course.”“Guess what, baby?” Emerson is suddenly bright-eyed, excitement wafting off him. I push the thought of Nate to the back of my mind, and muster the best smile I can. “O’ve got my own place.”“What?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Stop messing with me.”“It’s true,” he laughs. “It’s right at the heart of town. You’ll love it.”“I can’t believe Nate let you,” I poke his arm. “Congratulations.”His smile fades, and he exhales, dragging a palm down his face. “Why do you have to be such a killjoy.”I’m taken aback. “I’m sorry, what? What did I do wrong?”“Sto
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Kiss It Better 11 - Nate.
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Kiss It Better 8 - Anastasia.
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Kiss It Better 7 - Anastasia.
Halting at the doorway to calm my racing heart, I stop and stare at him. God really took his time with him. He's so fucking hot — an absolute vision of masculinity; big hands, well-proportioned body, devilishly handsome facial features, sitting there in his suit like he owns the place, my laptop on his lap, and his gorgeous emerald-green eyes scanning the screen as he goes over my blog. Just being this close to him has my body on fire, and my mind shuffling through a host of filthy, filthy fantasies I'd give anything to have him act out with me.Have him teach me passion. Every touch. Every word. Every taste.As quietly as I can do as not to distract his reading, I tiptoe over to the couch, set his glass of water down in front of him, and plop down in place beside him again. He looks up at me briefly with a smile, then goes back to his reading. I'm a bundle of nerves, but I do my best to remain calm as he finishes up reading. I don't know if he read deeper. My blog is three years old,
Kiss It Better 6 - Anastasia.
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Kiss It Better 5 - Anastasia.
I try not to shit myself in joy as I step aside to let Nate in, his familiar scent of musk, Nivea aftershave, and vanilla engulfing my senses. This is the first time he’s stepping foot into my house, and it almost doesn’t feel real. In fact, I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. That the popular, hottest, most talked about and one of the richest billionaires in all of Los Angeles is right here in my house, looking devastatingly dashing.He takes a few steps into the sitting room, and his presence fills the entire place up. But unlike his snotty, self-besotted asshole of a son Emerson, nothing reeked of arrogance or an over-bloated sense of importance in Nate’s demeanor. He assesses the place carefully. “You have a beautiful place. Your parents are phenomenal.”“Well, thank you,” I say happily. The way he speaks will never not impress me. So calm, so soothing, so...manly. And I love the fact that every word that comes out of his mouth feels genuine. There’s nothing in my heart
Kiss It Better 4 - Anastasia.
Hurt unlike any I’ve ever felt before floods my chest. I clasp a hand above it, heaving. Emerson notices and frowns.“Are you okay, Anna?”“W-Why do you have a girl’s panties on your settee?”For a split second, he blanks out. As he struggles to recover, I see the guilt pooling in the depths of his eyes. “Um,” he glances at the panties, then back at me. “Listen... it’s not what you think.”“I can’t believe this,” I croak, close to tears. “You’ve been cheating? Behind me? After everything...”“No, you don’t understand. Those...those are not...they belong to Daniel’s girl. The, um, the girl he banged last night...hey, where are you going?”I tuck my purse underneath my armpit and fix him a glare. “Save your excuses. I’m not five.” And with that, I sashay towards the door.“What the fuck...where are you... Anastasia!” he calls after me but doesn’t move an inch from the couch.For some sick, twisted reason, I expect him to come after me. To apologize. To promise to make it up to me, but h
Kiss It Better 3 - Anastasia.
“Nosy bastard,” Emerson cusses under his breath as he fires up the ignition and backs out of the driveway. “There’s really no cogent reason he has for following me this evening. He just wants to be a dick. Too nice for his own damn good.”“He’s still your father, Emerson. Do you have any idea where he’s headed?”He shrugs. “Don’t know. Don’t care. And you shouldn’t either. He’s a grown man. He knows how to handle himself.”“Of course.”“Guess what, baby?” Emerson is suddenly bright-eyed, excitement wafting off him. I push the thought of Nate to the back of my mind, and muster the best smile I can. “O’ve got my own place.”“What?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Stop messing with me.”“It’s true,” he laughs. “It’s right at the heart of town. You’ll love it.”“I can’t believe Nate let you,” I poke his arm. “Congratulations.”His smile fades, and he exhales, dragging a palm down his face. “Why do you have to be such a killjoy.”I’m taken aback. “I’m sorry, what? What did I do wrong?”“Sto
