Nash's Niche (Behind Closed Doors) by Raven McAllan Read Free Book Online Page B

a foot or so ahead of his body. "Two … I can do this. Three, four, five." He high stepped toward the chair set at right angles to his bed and collapsed onto it. "I did it." He wriggled his nose. The chair was all fine and dandy, but he needed his bed. With a sigh Nash toed his house shoes off, and looked at his pantaloons. They were knitted and stretched to fit the contours of his body. Therefore in theory they should pull down even over his still hard cock. It was no good; once he was able to rest in comfort he would have to take himself in hand. However, before then…
    He struggled to his feet and with one hand to anchor him steady, he used his other to pull the garment over his cock and arse and thence down his legs. Once they gathered around his ankles, Nash used his feet to tug the pantaloons off and stepped over them. His shirt could stay. That was one effort too much. He measured the distance to the bed. Two strides should do it.
    The first st ride worked. The second was slightly longer and had him wobbling, but it brought him to the edge of the mattress. He let his body fall forward.
    Not onto the mattress, on to…
    A body? He tried to see clearly. Two bodies? Surely not, not in his bed. He squinted, put his hand into the direction of where he thought one of the bodies could be, and patted flesh. Soft warm female flesh. His vision wavered and cleared enough to know it was one body…
    It stirred. Nash levered himself to stand on the floor one more, loath to leave the soft comfort he'd found, but aware enough to know he needed to. He let his hand move to the left and drift up what he decided was a damn curvaceous thigh. If only he could see clear ly just who had offered herself as his plaything. It would be best to have a face on the body he was about to fuck.
    The body jerked as his fingers circled damp curls and he nipped her soft nub until it hardened in a beautiful mimicry of his cock. Then he let his fingers delve into the warm channel under them. The body tried to pull back even as a soft mewl showed him his ministrations were appreciated. Then he heard a scream, one that most certainly wasn't a sound of pleasure.
    "Do not move," he said in a rough voice. He felt it only fair to warn whoever he was now filling with his fingers, and who he noted was writhing in time to his thrusts, that, "I have a weapon, and I will use it."

Chapter Six
     
    Felicity was having a beautiful dream. Her brandy-filled, hazy mind was full of body thrumming pleasure. Someone was playing with her curls and increasing her juices. His—she knew it was a he—fingers teased and played with her nub, and then with an exquisite slowness pushed inside her cunt. She moaned and wriggled as he thrust into her channel. She squirmed. Why fingers? Why not his tool? A thought struck her. Dreams didn't talk. She opened her eyes and from out of the mist that surrounded her, and the semi lightness of the night, she saw a large figure. It loomed over her and she jerked back, no easy feat, as his hand clamped onto her skin like a limpet. The wicked fingers increased their pressure both inside her and over the tiny nub, which she had learned could give her so much pleasure.
    He pinched her, and she tried to pull back even as the sensation of a climax began to roll through her. Felicity had oft thought how lucky she was to know what the tingles and goose bumps that bombarded her could herald , how to enjoy every last nuance until her juices coated whatever digit or toy she used, and let her body shudder in completion. Only once had she known a true climax—well, not once she allowed, but one night. However, now wasn't the time to think about that. Now was the time to extract herself from this predicament.
    She screamed, even as she matched his movements.
    There was a growl, a growl for heaven’s sake, what sane man growled , and those magic fingers moved ever faster. She couldn't help but match them. Then he said the silliest thing ever, and told her