Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me Chapter 116

Fun fact: every single time Nathan and I have made out or done anything…intimate, he’s held himself back. Even tonight, he’s held himself back.

I know this because as soon as I utter those two words—“Show me”—his control snaps.

He kisses me like a suffocating man desperately trying to suck in air. He slips his arms around me, pressing our bodies together, and I welcome his weight, heat building between our joined bodies.

His lips are branding irons, scorching my skin everywhere they press, liquifying all my internal organs, turning me into a puddle of need.

“Nathan,” I moan, arching as he sucks my breast into his mouth.

“I know, baby,” he mutters, circling my rock-hard nipple with his tongue as he massages the other breast.

I don’t think he knows. I don’t think he realizes that I might combust if I don’t find an outlet for all this need.

I slip a hand between us, and I feel him gasp around my nipple when I palm him through his jeans.

I bite my lip as my hands fumble with his belt and buttons.

“Here.” He shifts, and a shiver of anticipation runs through me at the sound of leather brushing metal—the slow pull of a zipper echoing in the silence.

Belated, ridiculous shyness overwhelms me as my lust-fogged brain processes the fact that this is it. I’m about to have sex for the first time.

And it’s with the boy I love more than anything—my first and God, I hope, my last.

I hear the thud of Nathan’s jeans hitting the carpet, and then he’s on top of me again. “Hey,” he smiles, so endearingly gorgeous.

I cup his face. “Hi.”

He eases his fingers under the waistband of my underwear. “I’m going to take this off now,” he murmurs. Not a question.

My mouth dry, I nod.

He grips the band, and my hips automatically lift, allowing him to drag my soaked panties down my legs.

My breath hitches, and I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood when I feel his warm breath hit the sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs.

“Na—” My words dissolve into a pained moan when I feel his tongue flick out against my throbbing clit.

Sensation bursts through me, and I’m a writhing mess under him. He grips my thighs, holding me in place as his tongue presses against my entrance.

Tears prick the edge of my eyes, white hot lightning racing through me from the point of contact.

“Nathan.” My voice breaks. “Please.”

Quench this fucking ache before I die.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, the vibrations against my skin sending yet another arctic bolt through me. “I don’t want to hurt you, so I have to prepare you.”

To punctuate his sentence, he slips a finger into me, and my hips buck against him, an embarrassing moan tearing out of my lips.

My eyes squeeze shut, and starbursts flare behind my lids.

Nathan’s finger moves inside me, and the torture is exquisite, incredible. It erodes all my thoughts, shuts down all my senses until the only thing I feel is the build-up, the delicious anticipation.

“Nathan,” I pant, “I think I—”

He presses his thumb on my clit and I explode.

This time, I don’t cover my mouth as a sharp scream erupts out of me.

My back arches, my toes curl into his sheets, and tears slide out of my eyes as my orgasm drives through me like a runaway train.

Nathan cups my ass, holding me to his mouth and all I can do is writhe and sob, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through me.

I’m still panting when Nathan moves up over me again. His lips glisten with my wetness, and the sight sends a shudder through me. I moan against his lips when he kisses me, tasting myself on him.

“You okay?” he murmurs against my lips, and I manage a small nod. I’m more than okay.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. “Do you think you’re ready?”

I nod, breathless with anticipation.

He bites his lip slightly. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It’s not like I was planning this—I mean, I hoped, but I would have been happy waiting and—”

I frown, blinking. “What are you talking about?”

Nathan exhales, and he shifts, moving away from me.

I hear a drawer open and close, and a crinkle. When he returns, he’s holding up a foil packet.

I let out a huff of laughter. I was so far gone, I didn’t even think about protection.

“Boy scout, huh?”

Nathan groans. “My dickhead of a younger brother gave me a whole pack the day after he caught us together.”

“Oh my God.” I covered my face with my hands, mortified. “That boy knows no boundaries.

Nathan chuckles, “Tell me about it.”

“Well,”—I lean up and kiss him, drawing him back down over me—“let’s not let his gift go to waste, shall we?”

His smile falters just slightly, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes that tightens something in my chest. He carefully tears the foil packet open, then tosses the wrapper aside.

“I love you,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss me again—deep and reverent, like he’s savoring every second.

I thread my fingers through his hair, my heartbeat echoing the steady thrum of his. “I love you, too.”

He presses his forehead to mine, breathing me in, grounding both of us.

Then he lines himself up, pausing—that worn question in his eyes.

I nod. “It’s okay.”

The moment he begins to enter me, the breath whooshes out of my lungs. It’s slow, careful, deliberate—but even with the burn, I don’t want him to stop.

I cling to him, anchoring myself to the weight of his body, the way he murmurs my name like it’s sacred.

He gathers me in his arms and I feel treasured—precious.

And when he’s fully inside me, we both go still. Just breathing. Feeling.

Then he starts to move, his rhythm tentative at first, like he’s waiting for my cue. I meet his gaze, wrap my legs around him, and whisper, “Don’t hold back.”

And this time, he doesn’t.

The ache builds again, slow and consuming. Every brush of skin, every erotic sound he makes, pushes me higher.

He kisses me through it—my lips, my neck, the corner of my eyes when I can’t hold back tears.

His name escapes me in a breathless whisper, while mine falls from his lips in a groan against my skin.

We fall together—into rhythm, into heat, into each other.

When I come again, it’s not just physical. It’s everything. I splinter around him, with him, held together only by the grip of his hands and the way he says my name like it’s both a prayer and a promise.

He follows right after, his body tensing, breath catching in my ear as he groans my name into my shoulder.

We stay like that for a while—entwined, shaking, hearts crashing into each other like waves on the shore.

When he finally rolls to the side and gathers me into his arms, it’s quiet. Soft.

I bury my head in his chest and inhale deeply as he says, “Are you—”

“Shut up.” I smile into his skin.

His chuckle reverberates through me, and his arms tighten around me.

“I love you,” I whisper, kissing his chest softly. “In case that wasn’t already explicit.”

He presses a kiss to my hair.

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice low and full. “But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

We lie there tangled together, skin to skin, hearts finally slowing.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel completely, utterly, whole.