Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,197

when Hannah spread her legs, though. Mostly because he nearly died at the sight. The only reason Nate’s soul didn’t leave his body was that, if it had, he’d miss this: the sight of those plump, pouting lips, the way they parted to reveal that hint of pink, deep inside. He spread her wider with his thumbs, his touch gentle—he made sure—but so obviously eager, he was surprised she didn’t laugh at his desperation.

Instead, she slid a hand through his hair and arched her hips towards him, murmuring something that might have been his name. He decided to pretend it was, because the idea felt pure and perfect as a cloudless summer sky. She was so wet and swollen and open, her clit begging for his tongue, but he wanted to tease her first. He would have, too, if she hadn’t tightened her fingers in his hair and said, “Please. Please. I can’t breathe.”

Nate knew exactly what she meant. So he bowed his head and dragged his tongue over her sweet cunt.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, her voice low.

He did it again, so fucking slowly, lapping up her juices as if he’d been dying of thirst. She was intoxicating. He couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t involve his head between her thighs. He’d live and die here and consider himself blessed.

Nate slid his tongue into her fluttering entrance, caressing the hidden flesh, tasting her. Then he moved on to her clit, swollen and stiff and demanding attention. She clenched her thighs around his head so fucking tight, it felt like she was trying to suffocate him. Was it bad that he wanted her to? He felt his cock leaking against his belly, felt his balls ache, and thought that if he didn’t come soon, he might die. He might actually fucking die.

But, despite the desperation heating his blood, Nate kept his pace slow. He stiffened the tip of his tongue and flicked delicately at her swollen nub—and when she ground against him, seeking more pressure, he wrapped an arm around her hips to pin her in place.

“Fuck, Nate,” she gasped. “Oh my God oh my God please don’t stop.”

There. That was what he wanted; for her to fall apart the way he was. For her to come undone. He didn’t speed up, but he did ease a finger inside of her, nice and slow. She was so fucking wet, so ready, her cunt gripping the single digit. So he gave her another, and another, and fucked her hard, even as his tongue worshipped her softly. God, she’d take his cock so beautifully. He could almost feel it.

And he could feel her getting close, too, closer to the edge. He didn’t falter, because he wanted, needed her to come. And she was going to. She was. Until, all of a sudden, the hand in his hair began to push him away, and her moans turned into a hoarse, “Wait, wait, wait—”

He stopped, his heart racing. “What? Are you okay?” She didn’t sound okay.

But she said, “I’m fine.”

He studied her face. She was biting her lip, white teeth sinking into smudged red lipstick, her frown too deep, too serious.

“Hannah,” he said, “you’re not fine. If I did something wrong, tell me. Please tell me.” His hand found hers, their fingers twining together. Just touching her like this made his heart beat twice as fast, which was… concerning, to say the least. But he couldn’t think on it too hard, because he was more worried by the look on her face.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” At least she seemed to mean that. “It’s me.”

“What’s you?”

“I don’t—I can’t…” She released a heavy sigh and sat up straighter, her skirt falling down over her thighs. “I’m sorry. Oh, God. I don’t know why I can’t just lie to you.”

“Lie to me?” Nate stood, his near-painful erection softening with alarming speed. He’d been wondering what it would take to make his dick relax around Hannah. Apparently, the possibility that he’d just committed some unforgivable act worked just fine. “Sweetheart… could you explain this like I’m five?”

She laughed, which made him feel a bit better—even if she clamped her lips together immediately after, like she regretted releasing the sound. He sat down on the stool beside hers, and held her hand, and waited.

Eventually, she said, “I get kind of self-conscious sometimes. During… you know, stuff. Things.”

He arched a brow. “Stuff and things.”

“Sex,” she whispered with a glare.

“Did you just whisper sex?”

“Piss off. I’m trying to explain, here.”

“Okay,