Page 35 of Charmed By the Next-Door Neighbor
My hands are shaking so badly I can barely get the buckle undone, and Nash just watches me struggle, his chest heaving, his eyes so dark they're almost black.
"You sure about this?" he asks, and his voice is wrecked.
"So sure."
"We can stop. We can just… We can wait."
"I don't want to wait." I finally get his belt undone and move to the button of his jeans. "I've been waiting for months. Watching you and wanting you and telling myself I couldn't have you because you'd never want someone like me."
"Someone like you?" He catches my hands, stilling them. "Claire, look at me."
I look up.
"I have wanted you," he says slowly, "since the first moment I saw you. Every single day. Every single moment. There is nothing about you I don't want."
Tears prick at my eyes and I blink them back furiously. "Don't make me cry right now. I'm trying to get your dick out."
He chuckles, and the sound is so unexpected and genuine that I can't help but smile.
"Okay," he says. "Okay. But Claire—"
"What?"
"I'm not—" He hesitates. "I'm not small."
It takes me a second to understand what he's saying.
"Oh," I breathe.
"And I don't want to hurt you. So, if at any point you want to stop—"
"I won't want to stop."
"If you do—"
"I'll tell you." I lean in and kiss him quickly. "I promise. Now please let me see."
He releases my hands and I make quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans. I have to lift up slightly to give myself room to maneuver, and then I'm tugging at the waistband of his boxer briefs and—
Oh! He wasn't kidding about not being small. His cock springs free, thick and long and flushed dark with need, and I just stare at it because I don't know what else to do.
I've seen dicks before. I'm not a virgin. But this is—
He's—
"Fuck," I whisper.
"Too much?" His voice is tight.
"No. No, it's—" I wrap my hand around him and he's so thick my fingers don't quite meet. "You're perfect."
He groans, his head falling back against the seat again, and I feel a surge of power.
I did that. I made him make that sound. I stroke him, base to tip, and his hips jerk.
"Claire—"
"Tell me what you like," I say.
