“Fuck, Nate.” I whisper and he grins against my mouth, and then leans back to look into my eyes. He pulls back and slams into me again, then stills and watches my face. I’m panting, my cheeks are flushed with lust. “If you do that again, I’m gonna come,” I whisper.

His grin widens and he pulls back, then slams back inside me even harder, and rotates his hips in a circle, grinding the root of his cock against my clit and I come apart at the seams, my body shuddering and clenching, my blood on fire, screaming his name.

“You needed that?” he whispers and plants tiny, sweet kisses all over my face, across my cheeks, down my jaw, my nose.

“Hmm,” I respond.

“Open your eyes.”

My gaze finds his and he’s smiling at me gently, brushing stray strands of hair off my temples.

“Are you okay?”

I kiss his lips softly. “I’m okay.”

“Good, because I’m not done.” I realize that he’s not only still inside me, but he hasn’t come and he’s as hard as ever. My eyes widen and I tighten my arms and legs around him as he pushes us off the wall and starts to walk up the stairs, his hands still supporting my ass.

“God, you’re strong.” I run my hands through his hair, loving that he can carry me so effortlessly.

“You’re just small, baby.”

He carries me into my bedroom and pulls back the duvet. He climbs onto the bed with me still in his arms and lays me down on the cool sheets, his body hovering over me.

“You needed it rough, but I need this.” He laces my fingers in his and brings both of our hands above my head, and starts to move inside me again, slowly, pulling all the way out and pushing all the way in again in a slow, easy pace.

His lips are driving me mad, nibbling the sides of my mouth, right under my ears, sending sparks through me and down my spine.

“Faster,” I whisper, but he just smiles lovingly down at me and shakes his head.

“No, just like this.”

He’s worshiping me with his body, showing me without words what I mean to him, that he’s sorry for earlier. I pull my legs up his sides and he shifts so I can rest my calves on his shoulders without letting go of my hands, and he leans into my legs, pushing even farther into me.

“Oh, Nate.”

“Yes, baby.”

This slow pace is killing me. I tighten my inner muscles around him, and he clenches his eyes shut. With each stroke, I clench around him, as hard as possible, until finally he starts to speed up.

“So fucking tight…” Our hands are still locked together above me, my legs on his shoulders and he picks up speed, thrusting harder and faster, sweat rolling down the side of his face. I feel his body tighten and I know he’s about to surrender to the climax building in him.

“Come, babe,” I whisper and his eyes snap open. He kisses me hard and cries out as he comes, rocking his pelvis against mine as he releases into me.

“Oh, God, baby.” He lets go of my hands, letting my legs down, and buries his fingers in my hair. I wrap my legs around his waist and run my hands down his sweat-dampened back. He’s kissing me gently, our breathing is slowly returning to normal. He pulls back just slightly so he can focus in on my eyes and says, “It’s only you, Julianne. It will only ever be you.”

***

Nate’s in the back yard over-seeing the crew setting up the tent for today’s party, and I’m more than a little bemused.  How did this happen?  How did this amazing man muscle his way into my life and start helping me handle things?

And why doesn’t it scare the shit out of me?

I put the finishing touches on my makeup and approve of my soft gray, wide leg slacks, white button-up blouse and wide black belt cinching my waist.  I’m wearing my black Choos, and my hair is in a loose chignon, makeup simple.  Birthday diamonds wink at my ears.

God, I love fashion.

Once downstairs, I survey the kitchen and grin.  There is always too much food at our family parties, and today is no exception, but the whole kitchen and dining area is full of soft pink and gray.  Puffy tissue paper pom poms hang from the ceiling, and the linens on the table and breakfast bar match.  My dining room table boasts a gorgeous display of pink frosted cupcakes stacked on several tiers, and the top tier is a small eight-inch round cake frosted in white and covered in delicate pink flowers.

I walk out into the tent that is now an extension of the house and gasp.  Oh, it’s so pretty out here.

The party planner brought in heaters for the tent.  It is spring in Seattle, after all.  A faux floor has been laid so we don’t have to walk on damp grass.  There are tables and chairs scattered about with more pink and gray table cloths, and long pink, gray and white sheets of fabric are draped from each corner of the tent, gathered into the center, and more softly colored tissue pom poms are hung, suspended over the tables.  They even thought to weave white Christmas lights through the fabric, giving the space a sweet glow.

Alecia, my new party planner, is getting a big, fat bonus.

“Are you happy?” Nate asks as he wraps his arms around my middle from behind and kisses my neck.

“It’s so beautiful.  Natalie will love it.”

He smiles against my neck. “You’re beautiful.”

I turn and gaze up at him, running my fingers through his soft black hair.  He’s wearing a gray button down, fitted shirt and black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up, giving me glimpses of that sexy tattoo.

I want to lick him.

“You don’t clean up so bad yourself, you know.”  I smile and brush his lips with mine.  “They’ll be here soon.  Are you ready for this?”

His smile fades as he sees the apprehension in my eyes.  “Yes.”

“They’re going to like you.  After they beat the crap out of you.”

That brings the smile back and he laughs.  “Why are they going to try to beat me up?”

“Because you’re a man, you’ve had your hands on me, and they love me.  And I think it has something to do with owning a penis.  It makes men want to beat the shit out of each other.  I’m thinking about doing research on it.” I shrug, trying to look nonchalant, but I’m really nervous.

Really. Nervous.

“Have they always beat up your boyfriends?” he asks.

“I’ve never given them an opportunity.”  I shrug again.  “I don’t bring men home to meet them.”