Chapter 11

“Are you teasing me, Bailey?”

Nick’s low, sensual voice trickles deliciously along my spine, sending a shiver through me. His head is bent to mine and his champagne-laced breaths caress my bare skin. I mentally urge him to brush his lips down my neck, to the crook, and then along my shoulder.

I don’t know why, but that suddenly seems ridiculously sexy to me. As much as getting him worked up with my mouth.

He’s still in no particular hurry. I’m wearing no more than a lacy thong and rather than groping me, he seems to be savoring the sight of my beaded nipples and the way they graze the top of his rib cage with each quavering inhale and exhale as my fingers clumsily fumble with his pants.

His hands remain on my hips, his fingers tangled in the strands there. Giving the illusion he’s on the verge of shredding my flimsy lingerie. But he’s demonstrating significant willpower by not doing precisely that—and intensifying the anticipation mounting between us.

I am hypersensitive to everything about this man, everything that is slowly transpiring. His deep timbre, his searing touch, his sweltering gaze. I have the extreme desire to melt into him. To just…cave…to anything he has in mind for our first time together.

And believe me, I am also praying there will be many, many, many more times to follow.

But… Back to his quiet query.

My gaze locks with his and I very honestly tell him, “I’m not as well-versed at this, in comparison to what you’re likely used to.”

Now his grey-green irises cloud. “Bailey, you’re not a virgin, are you?”

“No,” I assure him. “In the interest of full disclosure, however, I’m literally only one step removed.”

He immediately gets my point. “And how did that go?”

“Quite horrifically, to be honest. And quick. Though, I’m under the impression that’s the norm, as first times go.”

He grins, briefly. Mischievously. Then murmurs, “Expect something entirely different from me.”

Another tremor ripples down my spine. His seductive words, his close proximity, and the intoxicating scent of him cause me to involuntarily rub against him. Which elicits a primal groan from him.

Oh, Christ. There are sparks! All of them igniting in my stomach and deep in my core.

“I have every intention of taking my time with you,” he avows. Quite wickedly.

Dear. God.

The trembling has me off-kilter again. I abandon my nearly non-existent progress of undressing him in order to grip his bulging biceps to steady myself.

He’s moderately amused, though still smoldering. “I suppose we have our answer to how sizzling the chemistry will be between us.”

And we haven’t even done anything yet. Not really.

Regardless, my nerve endings are livewires, crackling and snapping. My inner thighs are quivering. My skin is tingling. My nipples are impossibly hard and there’s a dull ache in my pussy that is growing more and more insistent. Demanding Nick’s attention.

I’m desperate to tell him about it.

I don’t know how. Not without sounding insipid and naïve. As inexperienced as I truly am.

At this juncture, I’d kill to be worldly and sophisticated. To be provocative and sultry.

I’m anything but.

In fact, I’m still trying to breathe properly as my pulse races.

Nick, however, has all the right moves.

He actually does give a playful yank of the miniscule strips in his strong hands and shreds my thong.

Yes, shreds it.

Jesus fucking Jesus that is just… The sexiest damn thing ever.

He releases the strands and the triangle of lace falls to the floor, where my dress is still puddled.

“Darling, Bailey,” he whispers in his exotic, indefinable accent—which turns me on even more. “This is not going to be the least bit perfunctory.”

His arms are suddenly around me and he lifts me slightly, so I can escape the clothing at my feet. He rotates us just enough, setting me on the edge of the bed.

I flatten my palms against the luxurious comforter and attempt to scoot backwards, but he hastily says, “Don’t move. Stay right there.”

And then he eases to his knees as his large frame wedges between my parted legs.

My heart launches into my throat. I fight the gape. Because I’m damn sure I know what he has in mind. And…

Oh. My. God.

Oh, my God!

The voice inside my head is screaming at me to tell him absolutely no!—and warning me to just get the hell out of this scenario.

I will never survive this. Never.

I’m vibrating from head to toe. My pulse suggests I’m in a time warp, doing energetic, 1980s-style aerobics. Anymore stimulation and my heart might actually leap from my chest.

And we’re only getting started.

Though that’s not exactly true. He’s been seducing me from the moment we met, hasn’t he?

His palms glide along the tops of my thighs, his thumbs sweeping over that quivering flesh. Exhilaration holds me hostage.

One of his hands shifts and slips under my thigh. He drapes it over his shoulder. Spreading me wider, opening me to him.

“Nick,” I say in sheer panic.

His gaze lifts from my pussy to my eyes. “Yes, Bailey?”

“That’s just…” I swallow hard. Rack my brain for the correct verbiage in an instance such as this. And only manage to come up with, “It’s just… So personal. Intimate.”

He grins again. Casually. Sweetly. “That’s the whole purpose of this, Bailey.”

Um, no.

The whole purpose is to get me pregnant.

It is a very simple, straightforward purpose.

Not one that requires this scorchingly hot slow burn and this highly erotic cusp we’re teetering on.

I mean, Christ, he could have been inside me five minutes ago and we could be discussing, right this very second, how long it’ll be before I’m peeing on a stick and hoping for a pink plus sign!

That is not at all what’s happening.

Instead, his fingertips whisk ever-so-tantalizingly along my slick folds, back and forth. My teeth capture my bottom lip and that’s to keep me from screaming in reality, not just in my head.

His touch is… Oh, fuck. So delicately enthralling. And he’s watching my reaction, seeing every tiny emotion and sensation reflected in my gaze.

Until he whispers, “I have to taste you, Bailey.”

I am this close to losing it.

I am one-thousand percent twisted up and trapped in his web. Without a single thought as to whether I should—or how I possibly could—unravel from it, extract myself.

That is the last thing I want.

So there’s no protest from me verbally or in my eyes as he tears his gaze from mine and his head lowers and his fingers drift away. And then… Holy hell, and then….

The tip of his tongue flits over that very private part of me, fluttering softly, scintillatingly.

I gasp as liquid fire instantly replaces the blood in my veins and everything within me lights up like a Fourth of July night sky.

Nick neither lets up nor gives me a moment to assimilate.

His thumbs part my folds and his tongue flickers against my clit, still faintly, tauntingly—making me wonder if it’s truly him or if my imagination is running wild, given I’m suddenly dying to have his mouth on me.

I don’t have to voice the thought, pose the suggestion. He gets serious without any additional encouragement, applying more pressure, fluttering quickly, more assertively. Using his whole mouth to pleasure me.

Nothing—nothing—has ever felt so exquisite.

Somehow, my insecurity dissolves and instinct takes over. I ease back onto the bed. My hips rise, effectively pressing me more firmly against him and sending out a silent plea for more.

Which Nick immediately gives me.

He works two fingers inside me. A snug fit, yes. He’s careful; though, I’m wet and he’s able to pump steadily, smoothly.

A small cry wrenches from my lips. My hands cover my breasts, massaging the mounds. My hips roll. My breaths come in heavier pants, mixed with throaty moans as he continues to tongue my clit and finger-fuck me.

I’ve never given much thought to how spectacular this might feel. When it’s something you’ve never been exposed to, it’s not exactly what you fantasize about in detail—given you don’t have the details.

But oh, does Nick provide them. In spades.

He’s fantastically thorough. His mouth on me is heavenly at first, then downright wicked as he alternates between the taunting flickers and the more aggressive licking—and then adds a wonderfully evil twist by suckling my clit.

“Oh, God!” I call out as the sensations build and blossom. As his fingers pump with a heartier, more masterful beat. “Yes. Oh, God, yes!”

I’m writhing on the bed, completely lost in the tingling, vibrating, beautifully tormenting thrill he’s incited and then—

Nick’s fingers find that perfect spot within me and stroke in a commanding way. I’m so incredibly close to coming. He knows it. He draws my clit against his teeth and then he sucks, deeply, and—

Everything collides and erupts. I scream, “Nick!” as tiny golden orbs explode behind my closed eyelids.

Every inch of me sizzles.

And all the words that have been lodged in my brain spring free.

“Fuck me, Nick. Please. Now!”

My heart is pounding in my chest. My pulse is echoing in my ears.

I have probably just set some horrifically embarrassing world record for fastest orgasm ever—even though I felt to the depths of my soul every single delightful thing Nick just did to me with his fingers and his mouth.

As lovely and sexy a prelude as that was, I want him. Inside me.

Right this very second.

I clasp his shoulders and attempt to yank him toward me. I want him on top of me, to be exact.

“Wait,” he murmurs.

My eyelids drift open.

I have forgotten that my earlier mission of getting him naked proved unsuccessful, due to my unskilled hands and all the tremors through my fingers. But no worries. He’s on the job.

Deftly and swiftly, he divests himself of his clothes and shoes.

For the love of all that’s holy, I’m mesmerized once more. Breathless. Speechless. Hopefully (please, please, please God!), not staring at him with the widest eyes imaginable.

His are blazing as heat flares in them—I’m assuming this is because of my vehement reaction to the full visual of him.

His face is a masterpiece and his jaw is working rigorously, as though he’s having a hell of a time keeping himself from pouncing on me (despite the fact that, you know, I want him to pounce on me).

The cords of his neck pull taut. His impossibly broad shoulders are squared. His biceps bulge. His chest… Oh. My. The swells of his pecs are hard and chiseled. They give way to rigid abs that have me itching to run my tongue along the grooves and nip at all that tanned skin.

His long obliques frame a tapered waist.

My gaze wanders lower.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip.

My heart nearly stops.

Jesus.

Just… Jesus.

I take in his full, thick erection and my inner muscles instantly respond by clenching tight as a wildly evocative yearning ignites.

He is… Magnificent.

No. Not true, not good enough.

I’ve thought of him in that capacity before.

What’s standing in front of me now goes so very far beyond magnificent.

I don’t subject my brain to a tedious search for the more appropriate adjective.

Rather, I raise my gaze and somehow manage to say, “You did tell me we have all morning, correct?”

In my mind, I’m assessing how I could ever appease my new appetite. For him.

I’m sure this is reflected in my expression. Affirmed when he gives me that amused grin. He’s not mocking me. Only letting me know he gets a little kick out of me.

Not that he should—I am currently not, nor will I ever be, in this man’s league.

Despite that, I appreciate that I can provide a modicum of levity. I like tickling his funny bone—mostly because he’s so serious and intense, you might not think he has one. He does.

“I also mentioned we have this entire evening together,” he points out, cutting into my errant thoughts. “Whatever it takes, Bailey. I’ve cleared my schedule for us.”

Now my stomach flutters.

For us.

Not for this.

For us.

I mean, sure, yes, I totally know what this is all about. Hell, my fertility/ovulation cycle is being closely monitored by my “medical team,” and all the data gets funneled to Nick’s social assistant and added to his calendar so… Chances are good I’m in for one gloriously sexy week because he’s clearly sticking around to do his critical part in the process.

And speaking of…

Since there’s no need for a condom, he gets right to it. His powerful forearms hook under my thighs, spreading them, holding them up and back as I’m propped on my elbows at the edge of the bed.

The tip of his cock nudges my opening.

I have the gnawing urge to demand he thrust into me, so I can feel all of him at once.

Conversely, I’m wanting him to ease in. So I can feel him inch by glorious inch.

He takes the latter approach. His cock presses into me. I gasp.

He says, “You have to relax, Bailey. You are incredibly tight, and it’s not helping me any that you’re already squeezing me so damn fiercely.”

That is something I have no control over. Granted, I should have control over this. It’s my body, right?

However, my body’s reactions to him are purely of their own volition. And my greedy pussy is already coaxing him inside—and giving him a taste of his own medicine by taunting him.

His irises deepen in color once more and his jaw clenches. He stretches my legs wider. Pushes farther in.

My head falls back on my shoulders and my eyes close. The sensory overload of watching him watch me, of how I can turn his expression dark and smoldering, of how he is clearly holding back so this doesn’t get out of hand, of him slowly, deliciously entering me…

I’m instantly up to my neck in erotic sensations, about to drown in them.

He’s huge inside me. And he’s not even all the way in.

Sharp whimpers fall from my lips and my breaths are nothing more than shallow pants.

I am literally torn between staying stuck in this moment forever and ever, and gripping his forearms, pulling forcefully so that he lands on me and consequently drives deep.

He takes a few moments to allow me to adjust. That is never going to happen. The way my pussy is contracting around him only makes him harder. And that only makes me want more of him.

His strokes are languid, and I open to him.

I catalog every single ministration, every slippery effect, and his reaction to it. Every clenching of my inner muscles…and his reaction to it.

With no other cajoling from me, he penetrates deeper. So deep.

That is the goal, of course. Not the ultimate goal—that will be him coming inside me. But I was advised full penetration vastly improves the chances of conception and, evidently, Nick is well aware of this too. Or… He’s just operating via instinct as well.

He leans forward, so his torso is covering mine, and so that my bent legs are along his sides, my knees up to my chin, my pelvis tilting at a degree I’ve never fathomed achievable. I’ve dabbled in yoga, sure; but I’ve not practically had my legs over my head at any point.

But what this does for us…

Oh, fuck me.

And that is precisely what he does.