Broken (Manhattan Ruthless Book 1)
Chapter 23

Nathan flashes an arrogant grin. Did I really just agree to this?

Yes. Yes, I did. Because the way he stormed in here a few moments ago calling me his wife, despite being possessive and asshole-ish, was spectacularly hot. And this thing between us has been brewing for weeks. We’re going to have to have sex eventually if we’re going to have kids, and if I’m honest, I assumed he would have pushed for it before now.

But this … this feels all about me. I can count on two fingers the number of guys who were patient enough to make me climax, but if Nathan James does sex like he does everything else in his life, I’m willing to bet he’ll refuse to give in until he makes it happen.

“How do you prefer your orgasms, Mrs. James?” He asks the question so casually while he rolls up his sleeves like he means business. The sight of his thick forearms render me mute until he tips my chin up with his forefinger. “Well?”

I blink at him. “What?”

“Would you like me to use my fingers? My mouth? Both?”

Holy shitballs. “I have no preference.” That’s a lie. I absolutely do have a preference, and it involves that wickedly sinful mouth of his, but admitting that is too embarrassing, plus I haven’t showered since this morning. “Your call.”

He hums appreciatively and rubs a hand over his jaw, his dark eyes sparking with devious intent. “Well, I definitely have a preference.” He grabs me by my hips and lifts me onto the island. My breath stutters, and he’s removing my pajama pants before I can form any kind of rational thought. I’m not wearing panties, so my lower half is bare, making me feel vulnerable and embarrassed. My skin flames with heat. This is Nathan James, and he’s about to … I really didn’t think this through at all. He’s dated the most beautiful women in the world. I bet they all waxed weekly and had beautifully landscaped lady gardens. Mine isn’t exactly overgrown, but I am due an appointment.

Nathan grabs the stool beside him and, to my mortification, sits down between my spread thighs. He inches forward, his broad shoulders spreading my legs wider, then lifts my pajama top and trails his fingertips down my abdomen to the space between my thighs, his hungry gaze following in their wake.

Holy crap. “I haven’t showered since this morning,” I blurt out. “Tyler picked me up after work and I was so hungry and we were chatting and I just threw on my comfy pajamas and—”

“Jesus, Mel,” he growls, before sucking on his lip and closing his eyes. I stare at him open-mouthed. Is this bad? Or good? “Lie back for me.”

Heat floods my core so rapidly that my head spins. He places a hand between my breasts, gently pushing me backward, and I drop onto my elbows, my eyes still fixed on his face. But he doesn’t meet my gaze. His focus remains locked on the spot between my legs like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. I’m hyperaware of how wet I already am, of how my arousal seeps out of me despite the fact that he hasn’t even touched me yet.

“I have a waxing appointment next week,” I whisper, my cheeks burning hotter than the sun.

He runs a fingertip through my center. “Your cunt is perfect.”

Oh god, my what? Ordinarily I hate that word, but from his lips it sounds wicked and sinful and so hot I want to melt into the countertop. He slides his warm hands up my inner thighs, and they tremble beneath his expert touch.

He glances up at me. “Lie back and relax, Mel,” he commands.

It’s kind of hard to relax with your face inches from the most intimate part of me, Nathan. That’s what I want to say, but instead I obey his command and lie down.

He growls. “That’s my girl.”

A whimper slips out of me, and I’m sure I hear him laugh. He presses my thighs down flat to the counter, and I actually feel a drop of arousal trickle out of me. I suck in a breath, torn between wanting to die from embarrassment and wanting to grind myself on his face. What is he waiting for?

“I can practically hear you overthinking,” he says, and the way his warm breath dances over my wet flesh makes me shiver.

“I can’t help it.”

He presses a kiss to the top of my thigh. “What are you worried about?”

“I told you I haven’t showered,” I croak.

He kisses my other thigh. “I prefer it that way. I want to taste how your day’s been.”

Oh dear God in heaven. “What if I … smell?”

He kisses me again, this time closer to my center. “You smell fucking incredible. My cock is hard just thinking about tasting you.”

“Most guys I’ve been with have never made me come. It takes too long.”

I’m rewarded with another soft kiss, and this time his nose brushes over my lips. “Eating pussy is one of the greatest pleasures in life, Mel. The longer I get to spend eating yours, the better.”

Molten heat sears my core. “I need a wax.”

“Your cunt is beautiful and pink and inviting. I’d put a picture of it on my desk in my office, but that would mean someone else might see it, and this …” He trails his warm tongue from my opening to my clit, and my back arches off the countertop. “Is all mine.”

“Nathan!” I pant, so desperate for more of what he just gave me, I’m pretty sure I’d do anything he asked me to right now.

He hums, and the sound vibrates through my flesh, shooting pleasure through my veins. “Jesus, you taste fucking delicious too, corazón.” He flicks his tongue over me again, lapping leisurely at my wet center.

I can only moan as my thighs tingle and I inhale deep, soul-cleansing breaths.

He slides his hands around the backs of my thighs, pulling me closer, and although what he was doing already felt incredible, he takes it up a gear. He licks and sucks on my hypersensitive flesh, working his way from my entrance to the swollen bud of my clit, repeatedly bringing me to heights of dizzying ecstasy and then easing me back down before he does it all over again. And each time my need to come grows stronger. More urgent.

White-hot pleasure screeches around my body, searching for release. My head spins and my eyes roll back as I lose all sense of rational thought. I writhe on the countertop, begging and pleading with him to let me come, but the Iceman with the hottest, most incredible mouth I have ever known refuses to take pity on me. His murmured words of praise and encouragement only draw out my agony and pleasure into one long, seemingly everlasting moment.

I pant heavily as he eases me back down from the crest of another wave, knowing that I’m going to die when he finally lets me come. My soul is going to leave my body and forget its way back.

“Please, Nate!” I take one last shot at begging, but I’m unable to form the two syllables of his entire name.

He grunts, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thighs as he pulls me closer to his face, pressing me deeper into his eager mouth. Groaning, he feasts on me, sealing his lips over my clit, sucking hard and flicking the swollen bud of flesh with the tip of his tongue.

My entire body trembles. Every cell hangs on the precipice of an almighty explosion. I buck my hips, and Nathan keeps a firm grip on me, pinning me in place. I’m going to lose my mind.

Intense pressure builds in my core, snaking in my center and spreading between my thighs. I scream out a word that’s unintelligible even to my own ears. When he grazes me with his teeth, I lose it. One explosion after another ricochets through me until they reach my aching center. And then something unfamiliar and euphoric happens—if I wasn’t so high off this soul-altering, life-affirming orgasm, I might be mortified. My release rushes out of me like a river that broke its dam, soaking Nathan and the countertop and spattering onto the marble floor below.

“Jesus fuck.” Nathan groans against my skin as he goes on sucking and licking me.

I shake from head to toe. My head is spinning. I feel like I just rode every rollercoaster at Six Flags on repeat for infinity. Warm pleasure settles into my bones like an old friend. I gasp for breath, trying to suck in much-needed oxygen before I pass out.

And when I have the strength to lift my head, Nathan lifts his too. His fiery eyes burn into mine, and something passes between us. A connection that goes so much deeper than any I’ve shared with anyone else. Like it can’t be broken.

Until he breaks it.

He wipes his glistening jaw, cleaning me off his skin. “Told you, Spitfire.” Then he pushes back his stool, presses a single kiss on my abdomen, and walks out of the room.

I drop my head back, wincing as it hits the countertop with a dull thud. What the hell just happened?