Page 75 of Nash
She breaks.
Her whole body locks, her back arching so hard her shoulder blades press against my chest. Her pussy clenches around my cock in waves so tight I lose the rhythm. My hips stutter and my teeth find her shoulder. She screams my name into the pillow. The sound vibrates through the mattress, through my chest, through every nerve in my body.
I come so hard my arms shake. My hips press flush against hers, buried deep, and the orgasm tears through me in pulses that match hers. Our bodies lock together, trembling, the release of months of restraint pouring out of both of us.
We collapse. She goes flat against the mattress. I go with her, my weight on my forearms to keep from crushing her, my forehead pressed between her shoulder blades. Her back rises and falls with ragged breaths. My cock is still inside her, softening, and neither of us moves to separate.
"Nash," she says into the pillow. Her voice is destroyed.
"Yeah."
"I can't feel my legs."
"Good."
"That's not—that's not a normal response to someone telling you they can't feel their legs."
"It is when I'm the reason."
She laughs. Muffled. Breathless. The laugh vibrates through her body into mine, and my arms tighten around her.
I roll us onto our sides, pulling her back against my chest, still inside her, my arm wrapping around her waist. Her body fits against mine. Her hand finds my arm, and her fingers trace the tattoos from my wrist to my elbow.
"Nash," she says eventually.
"Yeah."
"If you ever stand at a wall for a week again while I'm sitting ten feet away thinking you belong to someone else, I will bedazzle your motorcycle."
"Understood."
"I mean it. Rhinestones. Tassels. A basket with flowers. The full Knox treatment."
I lift my head. Look at her. Her face is flushed. Hair is a disaster. Her eyes are bright, green, alive, full of the woman I've been missing for a week. My mouth pulls. The corner lifts. I feel it happen, and I don't stop it.
Ruby's eyes widen. "There it is," she whispers. "The full smile."
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late." She traces my bottom lip with her thumb. "I'm filing this under permanent evidence. Case closed."
I go still.
"The goat," I say.
Ruby freezes against me.
"You named the goat Nasty Nash Jr." I look at her. "Because you were thinking about this."
Her face goes fully red. Caught with nowhere to hide. "I have no comment. I invoke my right to remain silent. For the first time in my life."
"You named a goat after your fantasy of me in bed. Kyle has been feeding a goat named after your sex fantasy."
"That is a dramatic mischaracterization of my naming process, which was deeply layered and involved multiple criteria, none of which—"
"Ruby."
"Fine. Yes. I named the goat after what I wanted you to do to me. Then I bedazzled his collar. And threw him a baby shower. And made a poster of him in a crown. While you stood at the wall every Sunday watching me hold a goat named after the filthiest version of you I could imagine." Her chin lifts. "I regret nothing."
