Jay Crownover - Nash

“Had to hurt.” I didn’t really want to talk, but if it set her at ease, I was going to force myself to do it.

“Like a bitch.”

She put a finger on the PA where it decorated the tip of my erection and looked up at me.

“This, too?”

I snorted out a laugh. “The tattoo was worse.”

“Ohhhhh …” She trailed off and tentatively reached for the wallet so she could find the condom. I was waiting for her to call the whole thing off, anticipating it, when she surprised me yet again.

“You’re gorgeous, and really fun to look at. I think it gets even better when you start to lose your clothes.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that and then I couldn’t say anything because she wrapped her fist around the base of my straining dick and gave it a firm squeeze. I swore and she looked up at me. I just shrugged and she did it again, which made a drop of pre-cum pearl up at the tip. I didn’t know how long my self-control was going to hold out while she was exploring everything I was working with. I wanted to tell her to just let go, that if she let me I could use it all to make her feel really good, but it was her show for now, so I just clicked my teeth shut on the inside of my cheek and let her brush the metal with her fingers and roll the barbell around. It was the most torturous show-and-tell I had ever endured.

I muttered her name, threaded my fingers in her endless miles of hair, and gripped her head hard enough that I could tilt her face up so she was looking at me and not at my straining cock.

“Happy New Year, Saint.”

Both her fiery eyebrows shot up and she looked at the digital clock that did indeed read midnight. She gave a little sigh and picked the condom up.

“Happy New Year, Nash.”

She got the latex on just as efficiently as she had the last time and scooted back on the bed so that I could crawl up and over her. She wrapped her legs, still clad in those boots, up around my waist and I lifted up her hips so I could slide inside her in one long, smooth stroke. I wasn’t wasting any more time. I felt like I had been waiting for this girl, this moment, forever.

I kept my eyes on her face and she did the same on mine. Her eyelids fluttered and her chest started to rise and fall where it was pressed tightly against mine, but she curled her hands around my biceps and lifted herself up a little higher, which made me groan. I bracketed my arms around her head when we finally got into a rhythm that worked for both of us and dropped down so I could kiss her slightly open mouth.

I was rocking into her fast and hard, partly because I didn’t want to give her the opportunity to change her mind, but mostly because I had been dreaming about this for a week since she left me on Christmas and I couldn’t stop. She was hot, she was tight, she pulsated and burned along me in a way that made pleasure coil and snap along my spine. I was desperate for her and I could feel the pleasure and want building back up inside of her. I was using my tongue in her mouth to mimic what I was doing to her with my body and her hands were getting tighter, the noises she was making in the back of her throat were getting more frantic, and I could feel her inner walls drag and pull against my dick with greedy and needy movements.

I wanted to pry loose so I could get my mouth on those perfectly shaped breasts, but there wasn’t time. She gasped, moved her long legs up even higher along my sides, and I felt her break apart, felt something that defined this moment as something greater than anything else I had ever felt move across both of us, and I grunted, pulled her closer, and released everything that was consuming about her back into her. Maybe that would be the only way I could ever really show her that she was so much better than any self-doubt she might have. I’d never had an orgasm that hollowed me out before, never come and right on the heels of the warm fuzzies that followed felt like it somehow mattered more than anything that had ever existed before.

I chanced a look at her face and her eyes were closed, but she had a soft smile on her lips. Even though there were indeed twin tracks of moisture trailing over her cheeks, she didn’t look devastated or horrified like last time. Honestly, there was enough emotion pushing at my chest I wasn’t sure that my eyes weren’t glassy and glazed over as well.

I felt compelled to ask, “All good?”

I levered up off of her, and when I pulled out, the drag of sensitized flesh against swollen folds made both of us groan a little.

She pried her eyes open and sat up. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and pulled one leg up to start working on those boots. Good Lord, she was going to kill me. All naked white skin, fire-colored hair, and sexy-as-hell black boots. I could die a happy man if that was the last image I got to take with me to the grave.

“Maybe next time we can try it without so many accessories in the way.”

I chuckled because I was still mostly dressed from the waist down, had been both times, but really I wanted to shout in victory at the fact she was even joking about there being a next time and not showing me the door.

“Sounds like a plan.”

She climbed off the other side of the bed and grabbed a robe that was hanging on the back of her closet door and flicked on the light. I blinked to get my eyes to adjust while she settled herself cross-legged in the center of the bed. She fiddled with the lapels and I remembered she mentioned not really liking to be naked. It was a shame, looking the way she did, she should never wear clothes.

“I wanna see the tattoo.”

I brushed my hands over my head.

“I gotta take care of this first, and well …” I sort of tossed my hands up. “It’s huge, and if you want to see it all, I have to get all the way naked.”

Now I could see her really blush.

“Bathroom’s that way.” She pointed in the direction we had stumbled in from. “I think my curiosity is greater than my embarrassment might be at this point. I really do wanna see it.”

I shrugged. “All right. I’ll be right back.”

I wasn’t shy. I would’ve stripped for her right then and there, but as much as I needed a minute to figure out why I felt like my entire world was suddenly rotating on another axis entirely, I figured she could use the little breather as well.

I took care of the condom, ran some ice-cold water over the top of my head, and splashed my face. I looked the same when I gazed at myself in the mirror … same eyes, same face, same piercings, same ink … but something felt different.

I dropped the rest of my clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor after I shucked off my Vans. I picked it all up and trucked back to the bedroom. She was where I left her, sitting in the center of the bed playing with the ends of her hair. Jesus, she was going to kill me. She had also plugged her phone into the dock on her nightstand and the Kills were filling the room with moody rock and roll.

“It’s a dragon.”

I forgot I didn’t have a shirt on when I had walked into the bathroom. I turned around so my back was to her and she could see the entire thing. I heard her quick intake of breath and the covers rustle as she moved across the bed.

“It is. Phil did it for me. We started the day I turned eighteen and finished it the day I turned twenty-one. It took over six hundred hours in the chair.”

A lot of people had dragon tattoos. No one had a dragon tattoo like mine. It was done in a traditional Japanese style. The colors were all screaming hues of bold reds, greens, yellows, and golds all over my skin. The tail started on the top of my foot, it wound all the way around my calf, covered my thigh, took up one entire butt cheek, the body twisted and turned across my spine until it reached my shoulder, where the fierce head was always watching me, the wings flared out, completely covered my sides, ran all along my ribs, and ended right next to my dick, the talons were gripping each shoulder in fierce, clutching hands, and the fire it was breathing rolled over my collarbone on each side and danced up the back of my neck until it forked off and marked each side of my head over my ears.