Page 121 of Nash

“Stay here,” Nash orders. “I need to wash my hands.”

I hear his footfalls and trust he’ll return. Unlike the father who abandoned me, Nash comes back. Unlike the man who hurt me, Nash never will.

For all the books I’ve read about sex and love, my emotions can’t be contained in words. You have tofeelthis, not just define it, to believe it.

After a few minutes, I melt into the soft swing, hearing Nash’s return.

“What now?” I ask, sensing his approach, thrill skittering through my veins.

“First.” His clean, cool fingertips brush my heated cheek. “Tell me again you want this.”

“Nash,” I rush, “I love you. If you need proof, I want this; the fact that I’m not kicking you in the balls right now is it.”

“On that note, poison.” He secures my legs in the straps. “Let’s get these ball kickers out of the way.”

I’m splayed open and curious. “Just tell me who’s coming tonight.”

“You.”

I can hear his smirk.

“No, who’s going to be here? Who will touch me and … what else will they do?”

“No one kisses you,” he insists. “They won’t fuck you, either. They won’t go anywhere near your mouth or pussy or?—”

“What’s left?” I chuckle.

“Touch,” he growls. “That’s what I told them I’ll allow.” His lip curls. “If you consent.”

“Will you be touching me, too?” I reach, trying to find him in my darkness, and his hand wraps around mine.

His lips kiss my palm, his words promising, “I’ll make sure you love it and pass the test. I want you as my queen and wife, Vale, whatever it takes.”

He snaps open the crotch on my bodysuit, tucking the ends out of the way. With my legs hoisted high in straps, I’m vulnerable and exposed to him, and I love it.

I can sense we’re alone in the room, but then I hear the din of deep voices entering the home two floors below. Heavy footsteps and clicks of high-heels ascend the stairs as a sudden wet tongue licks my exposed cunt.

“Oh god,” I cry out.

“They’re going to watch…” Nash bites the inside of my thighs. He must be kneeling between them. “How hard I make you come.” He barely licks my slit. “How many times I make you do it.” And licks again. “How you belong to me.” Then licks harder. “Don’t you, poison?”

He spanks my sensitive clit, making me jump, crying out, “Yes!”

Nash works his magic mouth. With five licks over my sensitive hood, he gets me ready, anticipating. He stops and blows cool air over my clit before hotly kissing it, over and over, making the tension build, making it hard and ache for more, his slick slurps driving me mad.

The sounds of heavy feet enter the room with voices hushed.

Nash pulls my little lips apart, the hood of my clit retreating, exposing it, making it rouse to the air. Deep sighs of admiration excite me even more as Nash shows our audience my screaming wet cunt.

“Look at what’s mine,” he demands.

His possession lifts my hips in this shameless display. I moan, adding to my submissive show. “Yes, my king, I’m yours.” I clench my walls, making my sex pulse for anyone watching.

“Damn, her pussy is pretty.” I hear a deep voice admiring my powerful cunt. I think it’s Sire.

“Show them again,” Nash orders with husky control. “Show them how your tight, little pussy milks my cock fucking dry.”

I do it again, clenching and moaning, needing Nash’s mouth, his cock, his anything as he taunts, “See how she’s such a good girl for me? Always so wet and ready.”

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