Kami

It’s been four days since I’ve seen Nick. When my dogs explode in barks of joy just after lunch Sunday, I dash past the boxes still littering my lower level to squeeze around and open the door.

He grins at me, and every question I’ve had the last four days about if I’m crazy for wanting to be with him or if he’ll be mad about the arrangements I’m making for Sugarbear fades away. I don’t know if he’s serious that we’re going to a Halloween party later, or if he actually has secret plans to whisk me away somewhere so we can just enjoy each other’s bodies, but I don’t care.

So long as whatever we do, we’re together, I’m in.

“I missed that smile,” he says, and then he’s stepping into my house, wrapping his arms around me, and kissing me like I’m his missing piece.

I barely notice Dixie jumping on us or Tiger howling. Nick lifts my ass, I wrap my legs around him, settling my center over that thick bulge in his jeans, and it’s not until he turns and six boxes tumble onto us that I remember what I meant to tell him as soon as he got here.

He steadies us both before we fall, which is good, because I’m too intent on trying to get his attention to realize he’s still holding me up, and I grip him by the cheeks.

“No more presents,” I say sternly.

Or try to.

My gaze collides with those heated, amused green eyes, and I’ve barely made it into the second syllable of chastising him before I’m smiling back.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he says.

I’m stroking his lips with my thumbs because I have to. “No more presents,” I whisper again.

“You didn’t like the Nick dolls? Oh, shit. Wait. Sorry. That’s tomorrow.”

My eyes are so wide my vision is rattling and going out of focus. “You. Did. Not.”

He finds the wall and gently cradles me against it, a laugh rumbling out of him while he buries his head in the crook of my neck. “I love the way you smell,” he murmurs, his breath teasing my skin.

“Nick. Tell me you didn’t—oh, god, yes, there.”

I don’t know if he always knows just how to nibble on my neck right, or if he could touch, stroke, lick, or bite me anywhere on my body and make me instantly hot and wet because it’s Nick, but his lips and teeth and tongue are working down to the low collar on my light sweater, and thinking is suddenly completely unnecessary.

“I love the way you taste.” His words vibrate against my skin, and I clamp my legs harder around him.

I can’t help myself.

He’s holding me against the wall with his body, and his fingers trail under the curve of my ass, sending waves of delicious goosebumps over my skin. My breath catches, and I tilt my hips while he strokes my thighs, still suckling on my neck.

“You like?” he asks.

“Always.”

“Here?” He teases my ass again, sparks race from my cheeks to my heels, my clit throbs, and I rub my core against his hard cock to relieve some of the pressure.

Except all that rubbing Nick’s cock ever does is make me want him more.

“Upstairs,” I gasp.

“Now,” he agrees. He palms my ass again, turns, and three more boxes topple over.

“Fuck,” he mutters, but I lean in to bite his neck, and before he can stop to think about the boxes, he’s carrying me up the stairs two at a time.

I land in the center of my bed, and he stops just long enough to strip out of his Thrusters hoodie, toss his wallet on the simple oak nightstand, and shuck his jeans before he’s crawling up the bed to join me.

“You’re overdressed,” he informs me as I reach for the thick length dangling between his legs.

“I am, aren’t I?”

It’s been almost a month since I’ve had any playtime with naked Nick, and I was starting to worry my memories were a little inflated, but if anything, he’s even thicker and longer than I remember. I squeeze and stroke, and his eyes pinch shut.

“Slow,” he grits out. “Fuck, I missed your touch.”

He captures my mouth again, pushing me gently to my back until I have to let go. But then he’s pushing my sweater up and stroking my belly, my ribs, my breasts, and I spread my legs until I can wrap them around him again.

The bed sags next to me, and something cold and wet licks my temple.

I keep kissing Nick and try to push Pancake away, but then the bed sags on the other side too, and Nick suddenly yelps and pulls away.

“Dixie! Down! Oh my god, did she try to hump you?”

He’s rubbing his armpit with a grin. “No. Just wasn’t expecting that. Here. Let me help you with that shirt. It’s blocking my view.”

Tiger howls from the ground. Pancake slinks under me to sprawl across my pillow. Dixie wags her tail and sticks her nose into Nick’s side.

“Down,” I tell both my dogs on the bed while Nick tugs my sleeve down my arm and deftly blocks Dixie’s tongue. “And out. Go on. Go wait for Mommy downstairs.”

Pancake pouts.

Dixie ignores me and moves on to sniffing Nick’s bare ass. He jumps again.

“New plan,” he says, sliding off the bed. “You strip. I lock the door. C’mon, pups. Who wants a treat?”

He races them out the door, and then I hear all four of them elephanting down to the kitchen before I can warn him not to tease my dogs.

A month ago, he would’ve needed prodding to follow through on giving my dogs treats when he offers, but based on the sounds coming from the kitchen below, he’s got this figured out.

And that’s putting a warmth in my chest that rivals the heat simmering between my legs.

I strip out of my clothes as fast as I can and push all the covers off the bed. I’m debating if I want to be on my side, looking seductive, or just spread-eagle and ready—Nick’s really not all that picky—when I remember there’s something even better hiding in my closet.

I dash across the room, snag it off its hanger, and dive back onto the bed just as Nick slides back into the room and slams the door shut. He turns, sees me, drops his gaze to the fabric covering me from shoulders to mid-thigh, and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen spreads over his face.

“Is that what I think it is?” His steps are slow and deliberate on his way over the carpet to the bed.

“It is if you’re thinking it’s a Duncan Lavoie jersey,” I reply coyly.

His eyes widen for the briefest second before he catches on, and I shriek with laughter as he dives onto the bed and tackles me.

“Somebody’s a bad, bad girl,” he says, rolling me over so he can see for himself whose name is on the back of my Thrusters jersey. “A-ha! You do have terrible taste in hockey players. I knew it. Oh, what’s this? A bare Kami ass? Hmm…whatever should I do with this?”

Light fingertips graze the curve of my butt, and my eyes drift close while I inch my legs apart. He circles my ass, coming back to the center crack, and traces all the way down, inducing shivers up my spine and along my hamstrings to my calves and out through my toes.

“Love it—touch—my ass,” I sputter out as his fingers dip into my pussy.

“I seem to remember something about this very sensitive ass,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers back out and stroking up my butt again.

I arch into his touch, lifting my hips, and he shifts so he’s behind me, both hands squeezing my cheeks. “Higher, gorgeous,” he says, and I lift my hips higher, completely bare to him, completely comfortable with trusting my body to him.

“Wider.” His voice is going hoarse, his long fingers and thumbs teasing me until I have my face buried in my pillow, my ass high in the air, legs spread.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and then he’s licking my pussy from behind while he kneads my ass, and my entire world erupts in a shower of rainbow glitter while he finishes what he started in his mother’s garden shed the other night.

I’m rocking against his face, shamelessly arching my ass into his hands, while he devours every bit of me, licking my seam, sucking my clit, grazing it with his teeth, teasing my entrance until that thick, heavy dam bursts and pleasure soars out of me in a surge of sweet release.

He’s still eating me, licking me clean while my orgasm pounds through my core, and just when I think I’m done, he slips two fingers deep inside me, and my inner walls clench all over again.

“Ohmygod,” I gasp as the second wave overtakes me, my fists clenching my sheets, my voice muffled in my pillow. “Nick!”

“That’s it, Kami. Come for me. Come harder.”

He’s pumping his fingers into me, and ohmygod doesn’t do it justice. He’s hitting that sweet spot deep inside me while my body squeezes and clamps around his fingers until I’m completely spent, and I collapse back on the mattress.

He presses a kiss to the bottom of my spine. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

I huff out a laugh. “All you can see is my ass.”

“And your jersey. It’s the best part.”

I can’t catch my breath, but I’m still laughing. “You are such an egomaniac.”

He rolls me onto my back and grins at me as he slides a hand under my jersey and cups my breast, which sends aftershocks through my core. “If by egomaniac, you mean the guy who’s going to make you come three or four more times before we head out tonight, then yes, yes, I am.”

I trail a lazy finger down his chest. It’s so familiar, the chiseled muscle, the light sprinkling of hair, the puckered copper nipples, but his body also seems new.

Like maybe this time, it’s really mine.

From his long, strong fingers, to his thick biceps, his wide shoulders, his straining cock, his hard thighs, and that beautiful smiling face.

“Three or four?” I ask. Three or four more orgasms might kill me. “You strike me as the type who could go for at least six or seven.”

I love when his green eyes dance with laughter. “Six or seven? Is that a challenge?”

My hand reaches his belly button and drifts lower. “Maybe.”

“You’re on.”