Page 138 of Nash
I press the tip against her ass. Slow, steady pressure. Her breath catches. Her fingers tighten on the dresser edge. I push it in, past the first resistance, and she gasps. The sound goes straight to my cock. The widest point stretches her. Then the base settles into place and her whole body shudders. My hand is still on her back and I can feel the shudder run through her, feel every muscle in her body respond to the fullness.
"Okay?" I ask.
"Very, very okay." Her voice is tight. "I feel extremely full, and we haven't even left the apartment."
I kiss the back of her neck. Her skin tastes clean, warm, the shower still on her. My lips stay longer than they should. I breathe her in.
"Get dressed."
She does. The skirt sits on her thighs the way I knew it would. She walks to the mirror, and the walk is different. Her hips shift with each step, adjusting to the plug, and every shift of her hips pulls my attention down. The awareness of what's inside her is in her face every time she moves. My knowing what's inside her is making it difficult for me to think about anything beyond the next four hours.
"I can feel it," she says. "Every step. Every single step, Nash."
"That's the point."
"The point is to drive me insane before we arrive?"
"The point is to make you ready."
"I'm ready. I was ready at six o'clock this morning. And ready when you kissed me in the back room. Even more when you fought a man on a sidewalk and walked back into the shop with blood on your knuckles. I have been in a state of readiness for approximately nine hours, and the plug is not helping the readiness. The plug is escalating the readiness to a level that should require a permit."
I hand her the lipstick. "Red."
She puts it on. Presses her lips together. Looks at me in the mirror with red lips, no panties, a plug in her ass, and the kind of fire in her eyes that makes my cock press against my jeans.
"Let's go," she says.
The club truck is parked outside. Ruby climbs in, settles into the seat, and her hand shoots to the center console. Her eyes close. Her lips part.
"Interesting," she says.
"Interesting?"
"Sitting changes the angle. The angle is interesting. The angle is making me reconsider every chair I've ever sat in and whether any of them have been doing their job correctly."
I pull out of the lot. My cock is already straining against my jeans, has been since I watched the water bead down her nakedbody in the bedroom. The ache is constant, pressing against the denim with every shift of the steering wheel.
My right hand finds her bare thigh. The skin is warm, soft, and when my fingers slide an inch higher, she parts her legs without being asked. My hand rests on her inner thigh, thumb tracing circles, close enough to feel the heat of her pussy radiating against my knuckles. I don't touch it. I keep my thumb moving in slow circles on her inner thigh and watch her unravel from the corner of my eye.
"Nash."
"Yeah."
"If you don't move your hand higher, I'm going to move it for you."
"You're not going to move anything."
She whimpers. The sound sends a pulse straight through my cock. I grip the steering wheel harder with my left hand.
"I'm sitting in a truck with a plug in my ass and your hand on my thigh. We're driving the speed limit, and I need you to understand that the speed limit is a personal insult right now."
My hand stays where it is. She squirms in the seat. Every time she shifts, her breath catches, and every catch of her breath tightens the pressure behind my zipper. I could slide my hand two inches higher and end this. I could pull over, take her in the passenger seat, and be inside her in thirty seconds.
I don't.
This is the part I won't say out loud. The part where her frustration feeds something in me that runs deeper than patience. Watching her need it. Fight for it. Watching her body betray every word that comes out of her mouth. The denial is its own kind of pleasure that sits thick and heavy in my chest. It's satisfaction of holding something she wants just out of reach and knowing I'm the only one who decides when she gets it.
My thumb traces one more slow circle on her inner thigh. She grabs my wrist. I don't move.
