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I lick him. The taste of his pre-cum mingles with the remnants of this whisky on my tongue, equal parts salty and sweet. He groans as I go to work on his head, pressing the flat of my tongue to his slit, then guiding the pink tip up and down, down and up, stopping to take just the tiniest bit of him into my mouth. I suck, one quick, hard pull, and he bucks his hips, begging.

Curling my lips over my teeth, I tuck my hair behind my ear and reach for him again. I give his shaft a firm tug before I kiss his tip and then slowly open my lips, resting my tongue on my bottom lip to guide him into the heat of my mouth. My other hand is on his thigh now, the enormous muscles there tensing.

I give him a squeeze—relax—and he lets out a breath. I take him deeper into my mouth, ducking down, bobbing up, running my tongue along his length. I close my eyes and take him deeper, his crown hitting the soft palate at the back of my throat.

I gag a little. Knowing how much I love that, Nate puts a hand on my head and guides himself deeper still. Knowing how much he loves that, I swallow, hard, and the tiniest bit of cum trickles down my throat, making my eyes burn and my thoughts scatter.

It’s just my heartbeat. His growl. The ache that nestles itself inside my rib cage whenever Nate puts his hands on me.

He groans, fingers curling into my hair, and he finally lets go, gently rolling his hips so that he fucks my mouth in needy, rhythmic strokes.

My pussy prickles with agonizing heat, the kind that has me squeezing my thighs together. I’m soaking wet.

Something—everything—about this man soaks me through.

He moves, and I move. He fills my mouth. Says my name.

“Milly,” he’s saying. “Look at me, baby.”

I open my eyes. My pulse skips a beat at the look on his face. Naked desire.

Naked fear.

I want to make that fear go away. I start to bob down, but he catches my face in his hand. His grip is firm, but his gaze is soft.

The ache inside me pulses.

Let’s do this.

Let’s tell the world we’re together. Yes, that includes my brothers.

I slowly pull back, guiding him out of my mouth, but I keep my hand wrapped around his length. Give him a slow, soft tug. “I’m worried about you,” I say.

“Don’t be.”

A long beat of silence as he searches my face.

Something’s definitely wrong.

“I don’t normally advocate for sex first, speak later—”

“Really?” Nate scoffs, and my heart skitters at the creases that appear at the edges of his eyes. “Weren’t you the one who said this was, and I quote, ‘Just sex, nothing but sex, and if you want more, you’re barking up the wrong tree’?”

“Maybe I’ve changed my tune. My point being, you have a terrible habit of wanting to not only snuggle after sex but talk too.”

The spark in his eyes disappears. “I’m trying—”

“You’re not doing a very good job of it.” I push up to standing and hold out my hand. “If I have to fuck you to make you talk, then so be it. Come on, Nathaniel.”

I like using his full name. There’s a solidness to it, a whiff of history that makes me think of hot revolutionaries in tricorn hats tearing through the streets shouting, “The British are coming!”

When he just looks up at me, I wiggle my fingers. “Let me take one for the team for once, would you?”

“Milly, you just had my dick in your mouth.”

“And?”

He keeps looking at me, and for a horrible second I think he’s actually going to turn me down. But just as my face starts to burn, he takes my hand with a muttered, “Goddammit,” and then he’s flinging me over his shoulder—never in my life have I enjoyed being just shy of five-two until I met Nate Kingsley—and taking me to my first-floor master bedroom.

He tosses me onto my bed and tears off his sweater, revealing a chiseled chest covered with a smattering of dark red hair and more tattoos. The brass frame creaks as he leans down and plants one hand beside my head and cups my face with the other, tucking his pinkie behind my ear to tilt my mouth up to meet his. He captures my lips in a hard, deep kiss. I gasp, closing my eyes against the force of it. His exhales are noisy gusts against my skin. His tongue licks into my mouth, taking, pulling, and I tilt my chin even higher to keep up with the onslaught.

My heart is going apeshit inside my chest. I dig my fingers into the skin on his chest, holding on for dear life.

I live for how he takes me out of my head. How he tears me away from my worries and all the things that need to get done to just be here, here, here, inhabiting the marrow of this feeling I’ve been too scared to let myself taste until now.