Baby Daddies: A Me, Myself & I Collection - Page 27

Chapter Five

Aubrey

I sat up straight in my seat and shrieked, “What?!”

Nash winced at my volume but shot me a determined look before turning back to the road.

The tipsy buzz I’d been enjoying disappeared in the wind and was replaced by a myriad of emotions. Frustration, nervousness, excitement, and most prevalently…fear. I had always believed that my reasoning for keeping Nash at a distance was the stigma of an inappropriate office affair. But, in that moment, I realized I’d been lying to myself.

I was scared.

Scared of being overwhelmed by Nash.

Scared that he might be everything I ever wanted.

And terrified that we’d implode, and I’d be left with nothing but the pieces of my shattered heart.

Suddenly, Nash’s hand enveloped mine and he squeezed it gently. “I would never hurt you, Aubrey,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the rushing wind.

I gaped at him. Had I been thinking out loud?

“I just know you, baby.”

This time my jaw literally dropped. Ho

w the fuck was he reading my mind?

“And, your beautiful face is like an open book.” He grinned and squeezed my hand once more.

My mouth opened and closed a few times as I struggled to come up with a response. Before I could, the car slowed, and I looked around to see we were pulling into the garage of a gorgeous home that seemed to be situated on a private beach. Nash shut off the engine and raised my hand to his lips before placing it on my lap and exiting the car. He came around and opened my door before reaching in to grasp my hand and help me out. Once I was steady on my feet, he guided me toward the entrance to the house. His fingers brushed along my lower back, sending shivers down my spine. I knew I should protest; demand he take me back to my apartment, but…curiosity won out. I wanted to see Nash’s home. Not only because it was an amazing house, but because I couldn’t help wanting to know Nash a little more and his living space was an excellent place to start. You could learn a lot about a person from the way they lived in private.

We stepped into a smallish room (a relative term since it was almost as big as my bedroom) that had tall, white cupboards on the walls, except for one section that had a shelf with coat hooks on the bottom. Below it was a bench that had several shoe cubbies below it. For a split-second, I pictured little kids sitting there pulling on their shoes before racing outside to play. I swallowed hard at the wave of longing that swept through me. Turning my attention away, I followed Nash through another door into a massive, state-of-the-art kitchen. Everything in here was white too, except for the stainless-steel appliances and marble countertops that were a swirl of cream and gold.

“Do you cook?” I asked, trying to keep the awe out of my voice.

Nash smiled and looked around. “Sometimes. But, mostly, I built it with kids in mind. A small kitchen would make it hard to cook or bake as a family.”

I went warm all over at the image he depicted, and my ovaries practically started humming. If the kitchen itself hadn’t already knocked me up, his words had to have done it.

Trying to get my thoughts in order and think about something else, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. “How many kids do you want?” Then I inwardly sighed and wanted to put my head down the garbage disposal. Not helpful, Aubrey. Not fucking helpful.

He took my hand, his warm fingers gently wrapping around mine and sending tingles up my arm before they went straight down to my core. “I’d like at least four,” he answered as he led me from the room.

If I’d kept a diary, I would’ve sworn the man had read it. I’d always dreamed of a big family and—whoa, whoa, back up. I put the brakes on my train of thought. Why was I even thinking about Nash and my future kids in the same stratosphere? It wasn’t like Nash and I were forever, I reminded myself harshly. He’d more than likely end up married to some supermodel who, even pregnant, would look like she was walking the runway. Certainly nothing like the beached whale I was positive I’d resemble. The whole train of thought was bringing me down off the little bit of buzz I had left, so I tried to blank my mind and focus on the tour of Nash’s house without any useless internal commentary.

I might have slipped a little when he showed me the pool out back that had a kiddie pool built next to the larger, Olympic size pool. The whole area around it was walled off with a high, rod iron fence. The damn towel shed even had floaties… Good grief, was it possible to orgasm from just the idea of having this man’s babies?

Finally, he took me upstairs and stepped into a spacious room done in cream and a few complimenting shades of blue. It was undeniably a masculine space but decorated in a way that it could easily be made more feminine with a woman’s touch. A king-size, four-poster bed made of walnut was on the wall across from the door, a windowed nook to the right sported two sofa chairs and shelves above them which lined the walls on either side. The rest of the room had more walnut furniture, an armoire, dresser, and a small writing desk.

“Arguably the most important room in the house,” Nash quipped.

I raised a single brow sardonically. “With a state-of-the-art theater room and game room that could rival the best arcades in the mix?” I shook my head in mock disappointment. “You need to get your priorities straight, dude.”

Nash threw back his head and laughed long and hard. I was so mesmerized by it, that I was caught by complete surprise when he scooped me into his arms. He stalked to the bed and lowered me onto the mattress before covering me with his own body, pressing me deep into the soft surface. His green eyes were dark emerald as he studied my face with an unreadable expression. “I assure you, cherry. I know exactly what’s most important to me.” Then his head dipped, and he captured my mouth in a kiss filled with hunger.

I was immediately swept away on the tidal wave of passion crashing over me. Everything about this moment felt right. The heaviness of his body, the velvet glide of his lips, his hands buried in my hair; fisting it and holding me in place so he could angle his head and take the kiss deeper. A moan escaped me as I panted into his mouth and he answered with a groan as his pelvis ground into mine. One of his hands released my hair, and he ran the fingertips slowly down my cheek, neck, and the valley between my breasts. I’d worn a pink button-down blouse and Nash had each one popped open faster than I’d ever been able to.

He pushed the fabric to one side and palmed my breast over my bra, squeezing it gently. I whimpered with need as my back arched and my hips bucked. “Nash,” I moaned. He lifted his head and gazed down at me; his eyes dilated, the irises so thin I could barely see them.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, Aubrey,” he rasped. “I want to lick every inch of your delectable body. These tits”—he squeezed again—“these nipples”—he pinched the tip hard, making me cry out—“I want to feast on your sweet pussy”—his hand slid down to cup my sex—“before I bury myself deep inside you and make you come so fucking hard you’ll be ruined for any other man.”

I was too wrapped up in the feelings his hands evoked, and the dirty talk was setting me on fire, that I barely comprehended what he’d said last. Then all thought flew from my head when he pulled down the silky pink cup of my bra and closed his hot mouth over the hard peak. He pulled hard and my hands dove into his hair as I arched and pressed my breast into his mouth.

He groaned as he licked, sucked, and nipped on first one side, then the other. To my shock, I felt myself nearing orgasm, just from what he was doing to my breasts. “Bless the woman who invented these,” Nash murmured as he undid the front clasp on my bra. Considering what he’d been doing to me ten seconds ago, it seemed ridiculous to blush when my chest was fully bared to him. Still, I felt the tell-tale heat spread across my cheeks.

He toyed with my breasts a little more, sending sparks straight to my pussy and making me restless with need. “You’re so sensitive,” he breathed. “So responsive.” Something in the way I was moving caught his attention then, because he licked a tip one more time, keeping his eyes locked on my face. When my eyes rolled back in my head and I whimpered, he growled with satisfaction. “Are you close, baby?” I nodded, unable to speak. “Damn, you have no idea how hot it is that you respond to me like that.” He shifted his pelvis so the bulge in his slacks was cradled between my thighs. Then he used his mouth on one nipple and his fingers on another while riding into my pussy. With a bite and a pinch, I crested over the waves and crashed onto the shore over and over.

“Fuck,” Nash mumbled in awe. “You are even more gorgeous when you come than I could have ever imagined.”

When I finally floated down, I opened my eyes to see Nash staring at me with eyes so intense, I almost believed I saw love mixed in with his lustful gaze. I surprised myself by chalking it up to wishful thinking. Is that what I wanted? To be with Nash? To have our own happily ever after? I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answer, so I was relieved to be distracted by Nash as he helped me out of my shirt and bra. He scooted off the bed and lifted each foot to remove my shoe. “I fucking love these heels, Aubrey. Eventually, I’m

going to fuck you in nothing but those shoes.” He pulled down the side-zipper on my skirt and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my skirt and panties before drawing them down my legs and let them drop to the floor.

“Scoot back on the bed, baby,” he instructed. I did as he asked and reveled in the way his eyes burned, leaving fire everywhere they went as he inspected my body from head to toe. He lingered at the apex of my thighs and licked his lips. “I love that you’re bare, cherry. Fuck, I can see how wet you are. Is your pink, swollen little pussy weeping for my mouth or my cock, baby?” Desire choked me, and I could only moan, my hands clenching in the comforter as a rush of wetness flooded my sex. Nash’s eyes were like two onyx pools, no remnants of his green remaining, swallowed by the power of his hunger. “Seems my cherry likes it when I talk dirty,” he smirked wickedly as he traced a finger down my slit, gathering some of my juices before sucking it clean. “Oh fuck, cherry.”

He groaned and pulled me to the edge of the bed once more and fell to his knees between my open legs. He inhaled deeply and groaned. Then his palms pressed on the insides of my knees, pushing me open as wide as I could comfortably go, then a little more. I winced, but the pain was soon mixed with the bolts of ecstasy shooting through my body when Nash parted my lips with his thumbs and lapped at my pussy. The mix of pleasure and pain heightened my arousal and pushed me back up to the precipice of orgasm. I was exhausted from the last one and whimpered as my hips tried to retreat from his ministrations. Nash growled low and menacing and clamped his hands on my thighs, holding me still and keeping me wide open. He attacked with renewed vigor, and when his tongue rubbed over my swollen clit, I screamed as my back bowed off the bed. Still, I wasn’t able to move much from his grip on my legs. He sucked the little nub, pulling it from its hood so he could flick his tongue over it, sending me flying into an abyss as I screamed his name. An unexpected rush of liquid filled my pussy and Nash groaned like he’d been given the God’s ambrosia. “Oh fuck, yes, baby,” he grated in a strained voice. “Give me all your cream.” He drank it up as though he were starving, and I was his last meal.

Tags: Fiona Davenport Romance
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