Page 91 of The Nanny and the Nerd
“Off the charts sexy,” she agreed, biting back a grin when Rowen’s expression grew pensive.
“What is it?” she asked, poking him in the chest.
Yes, she still did that.
“There’s one thing you have over him,” he said, tracing circles on her thigh as his hand moved under the covers.
She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh yeah? One thing?”
“I’ve never heard Boomer make this sound,” he replied, sliding down her barnyard-printed sleep pants.
Yep, he’d seen it all. The retainer. The animal printed pajamas. And guess what? He was into it! No judgment. No side glances. She’d dated guys who’d looked at her retainer container and ran for the hills. Not Rowen! All he seemed to see was her. And it was like nothing she’d ever known.
With her PJ bottoms bunched around her ankles, his large, warm hand drifted between her thighs. The dirtiest gasp escaped her lips as he caressed her in maddeningly slow, delicious strokes.
“That’s the sound,” he rasped, eliciting another dirty gasp from her naughty girl mouth. His low rumble of a voice had nearly the same effect as his touch. She bit her lip, holding back the lusty moan aching to escape.
They had to be careful—and quiet.
While they hadn’t allowed Phoebe to learn about their nightly Adult-Only-rated sleepovers, there had been a shift in their roles and routine. A shift that mirrored more of a family than a childcare arrangement. In essence, the three of them became a trio. A trio that played tag in the backyard. A trio that sat at the kitchen island, laughing and chatting over dinner. And a trio that invited Cecelia and Darla over every Friday night to make cookies and eat pizza. It wasn’t quite the sugar-infused, gooey cheese-fest it had been the first time. They’d compromised on the menu. The pizza came from a vegan restaurant Rowen frequented, and the cookies used gluten-free flour and raw sugar. It was a small price to pay to watch Phoebe and Rowen don oven mitts and fight over who got to eat the last cookie.
And that’s how it went.
During the workweek, before Phoebe woke, she and Rowen parted ways in the early morning hours. But not before their bodies met in a silent dance of lust and longing. As the first rays of dawn carved their way through the darkened sky, Rowen would gather her in his arms and press his rock-hard cock between her legs. With their sleep-warm limbs tangled together, they made love slowly, mindfully, working their bodies into a quiet frenzy. In the last four weeks, this meticulous man, this gorgeous nerd, had proved he wasn’t kidding when he said nerds don’t stop until they get it right. And sweet orgasmic bliss, from his hands to his mouth to his thick, beautiful cock, he’d perfected the art of making her body tremble with carnal delight.
Except for this morning.
There was something besides work and the AI-77 narrative that had her up early—even before Rowen had a chance to work her into a fevered state. Over the last couple of days, Phoebe and Rowen had been as thick as thieves—a whisper here, a knowing look there. She’d tried to figure out what was going on. But anytime she floated a question, these two simply went into muted robot mode, then shrugged. Yes, it was adorable how they did casual aloofness in perfect unison. But not so adorable that it didn’t have her writer’s brain working overtime to try to figure out what these two had up their sleeves.
“Is there anything I need to know on the gaming or nanny front? Anything you need to tell me?” she asked, which was quite a feat with Rowen’s hand rocking against her tight bundle of nerves.
“Penelope,” he purred, and OH GOD! That voice! That hand!
She released a shaky breath as her ability to put two words together slipped away like water through a sieve.
She’d have another chance to see if she could get one of them to slip on the drive to school today. That was another part of their routine. Monday through Friday, she and Rowen would drop Phoebe off at school, and then they’d head into the office to work on AI-77. The day would pass in a flurry of activity. It honestly didn’t even feel like work. A creative explosion of ideas was more like it. Who knew that Penelope Fennimore, the girl whose breadth of gaming knowledge used to be boiled down to identifying Ms. Pac-Man on a hoodie, could spin tales for complex gaming narratives? And while she wasn’t writing her own stories, the distraction of AI-77 was a welcome reprieve from her gnawing writer’s block. And then, like clockwork, their alarms would go off a little past three, alerting them that it was time to pick Phoebe up from school. After the first night they’d made love, they’d fallen into the habit of doing everything together. This new normal simply clicked. That is until Rowen and Phoebe decided to torture her with their whispering and their covert cat-who-ate-the-canary expressions.
“Stop thinking about work and start thinking about my cock,” Rowen purred as he increased the pressure, rocking his palm in a way that turned her mind to absolute mush.
“I’m not thinking of work,” she said, grateful she could even speak at this point. Her body knew what was coming and trembled in anticipation.
Rowen pressed his chest to her back, spooning her from behind, then dropped a kiss to her neck. The warmth of his hard body engulfed hers, and every nerve ending tingled as her soft curves molded to the contours of his muscled torso. She reached above her head and wove her fingers into his dark mess of hair as he gripped her hip and slid his hard length into her slick center. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the all-encompassing attraction between them that never waned, never diminished. Instead, one kiss made her crave another and another. She welcomed him, inch by beautiful inch, gasping as their bodies became one. His warm breath caressed her neck, and she was his. All it took was one touch, one brush of skin-on-skin contact, and the butterflies in her belly flew south in a burst of tingles and a rush of heat.
“How does it get better every time?” he rasped against the shell of her ear, pumping his hips like he was built to make her body sing.
That was a great question—a question worthy of at least five thousand words, possibly ten! But only two words popped into her head.
“Don’t stop!” she cried, body writhing, arousal peaking as she hovered on the edge of sweet release.
Her nipples hardened into pearls as he slipped his hand beneath her tank top and massaged her breasts. With her arms above her head, she granted him full access to her body, and by God, Rowen Gale took it. Her breasts, her collarbone, her shoulders, her belly—his touch lit every part of her on fire while his hard length stretched her in the most dirty, delicious ways. It was nearly too much to take. Her thoughts dissolved as instinct took over. There was no embarrassment in losing herself when she was with him. Her lusty gasps fed his desire, and as she flew over the edge in orgasmic bliss, he followed. Bucking like a wild stallion, he made love to her like it was quite literally,in AI-77 speak, his sole primary directive.
And holy hot sex with a gamer, she was there for it!
She tightened around him as the world disappeared. Her entire existence consisted of this man and his magnificent cock rivaled only by his magical hands. Spiraling out of control in a sea of sensations, he held onto her as they swayed, finding a rhythm, their rhythm, before coming down from the high of reckless abandon.
“I could listen to you come all day, every day,” he said through a hoarse breath as he held her close.
She relaxed, melting into his strong embrace. “I’m on board with that, but it might make work a little uncomfortable for the other teammates at Gale Gaming.”
