Page 106 of The Nanny

“I can’t—” I feel breathless now, my eyes screwed shut and my mouth slack as I focus on the sensation. “I can’t touch myself like this.”

“Are you asking me to?”

“Aiden,” I pant.

He dips into me a little harder. “I want you to ask me,” he grunts. “Ask me to make you come, Cassie.”

“Aiden I swear if you don’t”—I cry out when he fucks me more roughly, my body jolting against the counter—“fuckingtouchme.”

“I will.” He chokes out a laugh, pushing up my shirt just a bit and sliding his hands over the smooth expanse of my lower back before leaning to kiss my spine. “I just want to hear you ask me for it.”

His fingers tease over the top of my thigh, tracing a line down the inside and lingering as he draws it back up inches away from where I need him. But my focus is suddenly zeroed in on the hand that strokes my back. My heart begins to pound for reasons that have nothing to do with his cock inside me, knowing that if he pushes up my shirt just a little more—he’ll see everything.

His fingertips skirt just below my bra strap, his other hand still teasing between my thighs even as he continues to stroke into me at a steady pace. “Ask me, Cassie.”

“Fuckingtouchme,” I grind out, my pulse pounding in my ears in both pleasure and fear. “Please.”

He hums against my skin, obliging instantly and dipping his fingers between my legs to find the little bud of my clit. I moanwhen he rubs it, my body practically sighing in relief when the palm at my back slides back down to the safer zone near the base of my spine.

Thank fuck.

He finally pulls it away altogether to wrap it around one of my hips, gripping me there as he works me steadily, as he fucks meunsteadily.He’s thrusting deep now, his body curling until his breath pants against my spine and his skin is slapping against mine. I can tell by the way his hips begin to stutter that he’s close, can hear it in the soft groans that escape him.

“It feels so good when you come,” he huffs. “So good.”He slides deep, rolling his fingers against my swollen clit. “It’s better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

His words wash over me, making me burn hotter, and I can feel that sweet pressure building between my legs, anticipating the moment when it bursts into an allover pleasure.

“Right there,” I breathe. “Don’t stop.”

His fingers are slipping against my clit with the way I’m soaked, but he keeps rubbing me in that same spot that makes me whimper for more. “Never.”

My fingers clench and unclench at the edges of the counter, and my back attempts to arch even though I have no room against the hard surface, and thesoundsthat leave my mouth are breathy, deep, needy—and then I feel it.

It starts with a trembling inside, a spasming of my inner walls that is only made more intense by his cock, which still continues to rock into me. He lets out a loud, guttural sound as he pushes deep one last time, and he doesn’t withdraw, doesn’tmove—just sheathes himself and allows my quivering body to pull him over the edge.

His cock twitches heavily, filling me—filling me with his come, his warmth,him—and he’s too heavy to be covering me like he is,but I don’t mind it. He feels so good pressed against me, his big body molded against mine as his mouth wanders. My nape, my throat, my jaw—any bit of bare skin he can reach.

“Good thing you’re so bad at Frisbee,” he huffs against my hair.

I puff out a breath. “With stakes like yours, it didn’t matter either way.”

“True.” I catch his soft chuckle, and he shudders against me as his forehead rests against my spine. “I don’t want to pull out of you.”

“Sir, that’s how people get UTIs.”

He barks out a laugh. “Sexy.”

“Proper vaginal health isverysexy,” I stress. “Besides, if you don’t, I’ll be dripping all over the—”

We both freeze as the doorbell sounds, struck for a moment like maybe we imagined it. But then it rings again—and it’s like a switch has been flipped, Aiden pulling out of me with a hiss and wince as we both make a comically mad dash to make it look like wedidn’tjust fuck at the kitchen counter.

Aiden gives me a frazzled look as he pulls up his sweatpants. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No,” I scoff, situating my panties. “Areyou?”

“I have no idea who that could be.”

“Maybe it’s the mailman.”

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