Page 74 of Nash
"You don't get to rush this," I say against her neck. My hand slides up her side, over her ribs, and cups her breast. My thumb drags across her nipple, and she arches into the touch. "I've waited too long for this. I'm going to take my time."
"Taking your time is going to kill me."
"You'll survive."
"That's debatable. That's very, very debat—Oh god."
I thrust harder. Just once. A single deep stroke that drives a cry out of her and makes the headboard tap the wall. Then I go back to my original pace. Her hands fist the sheets, her hips straining against mine, as her pussy clenches around me in rhythmic pulses that test every ounce of discipline I have.
"You're doing this on purpose," she says through her teeth.
"I'm doing everything on purpose."
"I hate you."
"You said that already."
"I mean it more now."
I pull back, grip her hip, and flip her onto her stomach. She gasps and catches herself on her forearms. I pull her hips up, positioning her on her knees, her back arched, her ass pressing against my cock. The new angle opens her up, and when I slide back inside, we both groan.
"Oh fuck. Nasty." Her voice is muffled against the pillow. "I knew you'd be nasty."
The angle is deeper from here. My cock hits the back of her, stretching her, filling her, and every thrust makes her arms shake. I grip her hips with both hands, fingers pressing into the soft skin hard enough to leave marks, and set the rhythm she's been begging for.
Her hand reaches back and grabs my wrist. Her fingers tighten, holding on while I drive into her. The wet sounds of her dripping pussy soaking my cock fill the room alongside her moans. She turns her head on the pillow, her copper hair wild across the white fabric, and I can see her profile. Her mouth is open. Her eyes squeezed shut. The flush spreads down her spine.
"Look at me," I say.
Her eyes open. Green, glassy, wrecked. She looks at me over her shoulder, and the vulnerability in her face makes my chest crack.
"You're beautiful," I say. The words come out rough, raw. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Her eyes fill. She blinks and turns her face into the pillow, but I reach forward and grip her chin. Turn her back to me.
"Don't hide from me."
She swallows hard. Her chin trembles in my hand, and she nods once, barely.
I lean over her back, my chest against her spine, my mouth at her ear. My hips slow to a grinding rhythm, deep, rolling strokes that press my cock against every wall inside her.
"This is what it is," I say. "You push. I hold. You fight. I stay. You try to run and I'm right here." My teeth graze her earlobe. "You don't have to carry it with me, Ruby. You just have to let go."
"I don't know how," she whispers.
"Yes you do."
My hand slides from her chin to her throat and wraps around it. Gentle. Firm. Her pulse hammers against my palm. She exhales, her whole body softening into my grip, leaning back against my chest. My other hand reaches around her hip, fingers sliding between her thighs to find her swollen and slick clit. I press in slow circles that match the rhythm of my hips. She criesout, her arms giving way, her chest dropping to the mattress, my hand still around her throat, holding her.
I build her from both ends. My cock driving into her from behind, my fingers working her clit from below. Her whole body trembles. Her thighs shake as her moans climb in pitch. She grips the sheets with both fists until her knuckles are white. I can feel her getting close in the way her pussy tightens around me with rhythmic clenches that squeeze my cock so hard my vision narrows.
"Nash, I'm going to come. I can't—I'm—"
"Let go, Ruby."
"I can't, it's too much. It's—"
"You can." I press harder against her clit, faster, my hips driving deeper. "Let go. I've got you."
