How Do You Like Your Eggs? Pt. 05

Hello, my loves!

Here's the next installment. Hopefully it is to your liking!

Big shout outs to fawnsage and BlackCaramelCreme. I love ya, I love ya!

It's late. I don't have anything cute or funny to say. *shrug*

As usual, please enjoy!

***

I'm nervous. I don't want to be. I can't help it.

It's three days after Nathan's birthday and, because he's been out of town since dinner at Anaya's, we're celebrating tonight. He's asked me to meet him at the restaurant in his hotel. The place is classy and dim, just like the bar.

His plane landed a mere two hours ago. He's probably jet-lagged and exhausted, but he made me promise to meet him.

"I've been dealing with a shit-storm since last I saw you," he told me over the phone this morning when I'd assured him we could meet up another time. Though his tone was firm, I could hear the ache, the weariness in his voice. "I need to see you. You give me peace, woman."

How sappy and melodramatic. How impossibly perfect. How undeniably sweet.

"You just want to have sex with me." I couldn't help teasing, placing my hand over my maddeningly beating heart.

His laugh was deep and knowing. I love it.

"Damn straight! And if I could have recorded the sound of you coming, I would have. At least I'd have something to enjoy this whole week."

And, just like that, the warmth in my chest migrated south.

"Dirty old man."

Anyway, I'm nervous. I'm waiting at a corner table he's reserved for the evening. The gift I've gotten him is tucked away. It's not much. I put a lot of thought into it, and I pray he can understand and appreciate it for what it is. It's the thought that counts, right?

The gift itself has me thinking about other things. Things I'd much rather leave on the back burner, at least for tonight, so Nathan is actually doing me a favor by demanding my presence.

My library is shutting down, which isn't a surprise, and isn't anything new. Libraries all over the nation are closing their doors. The electronic age has done a number on the likes of us.

It's heartbreaking and depressing. I don't know what I'm going to do. That place has been my life for the past 10 years. I don't know anything else. I don't have a degree in anything else.

I'm not going to wallow. I'll figure something out. I've got some money saved up, and there's still a small portion of my mother's life insurance policy set away, which I haven't touched in years. If push comes to shove, I'll be ok for at least 4 months. Five, if I live on grilled cheese alone.

I'll work it out. I have no choice.

However, tonight is not about me or my shattering life. Tonight is for Nathan.

The toe of my high heel grazes the gift bag at my feet and, as if my thoughts have conjured him, I look up to see Nathan striding purposely through the dining room. There is a look of determination on his handsome face. He looks mouth-watering in his pitch black suit and forest-green tie, his dark hair slightly disheveled, as if he's been constantly running his hands through it. His green eyes glint in the wavering light.

Heads turn as he passes; he cuts a striking image. He doesn't appear to notice. His focus is solely on me. My heart jumps and kicks, excitement twining with lust inside my chest. How can I be so excited to see someone again after such a short time?

"Well, hello, birthday boy!" I manage to squeak out when he's close.

He doesn't reply. Instead, he grabs my wrist and pulls me out of my seat. I have no time to think, much less catch my balance and, before I know it, I'm pressed firmly into the solid expanse of his chest. His lips come crashing down over mine and all rational thought ceases. He kisses me deeply, nearly bending me backward, his tongue making broad, sweeping passes inside my mouth.

And, just as quickly, it's over.

My breath escapes in short, muffled bursts.

"You and these damn dresses. You tryin' to kill me, woman?"

I'm in red again, though this dress is more light and playful. Nothing like the vixen I'd been the night we met. The skirt flairs out thanks to a double layer of pale pink tulle underneath it. My shoulders are bare, and the bodice is tight, highlighting my smallish breasts. The whole thing is flirty and cute, the same deep shade of crimson as the sheath. I've rounded out the entire ensemble with a pair of matching suede, peep-toe high heels. My hair, normally an unruly pixie style, is set in smooth soft curls. I've switched out my glasses for contacts to display my lightly made up face, the highlight of which are my deep red lips.

"I'm glad you like it," I say on a soft, breathy laugh, my mind still reeling from the kiss.

"Like it? I love it." His lips brush mine in a tempting, feather-light kiss. "You look like dessert. I'm should skip dinner and just eat you."

Heat washes over my skin. The sheer panties I'm wearing are most definitely, immediately, soaked.

"Can I at least give you your gift?"

Nathan pulls back a fraction. Stares down the line of his nose at me.

"Gift? Maxie, you didn't have to do that. Spendin' time with you is gift enough."

I pinch what little bit of flesh I can find at his hip. There is none, really, so I'm merely pulling at the fabric of his suit jacket.

"Are you naturally this charming, or have you just perfected the art over the years?"

He smiles. "All natural."

I roll my eyes and playfully shove him back.

"Sit down and let me give you your gift."

He does, though not before pulling my chair out for me first.

I lean to the side to retrieve the gift bag and, when I straighten up, I catch him staring directly at my tits.

"Dirty, dirty old man," I admonish, and he shrugs as if to say 'What do you expect?'

I use the tips of my fingers to slide the shiny, dark blue bag his way. For a long moment, he merely stares at it. My nerves overtake me and I feel a sudden, overwhelming need to explain.

"Listen, Nathan, it's not much, but I just... I wanted to do something. Something to show you're appreciated."

Candlelight flickers in his emerald eyes. For the first time since I met him, I can't read the expression in them. Anxiety spikes through me.

"Darlin'," he draws. "You're sweet. Thank you."

I let out a small, nervous laugh. "Don't thank me just yet. You might not even like it." God, I hope he likes it. "Open it."

My heart hammers wildly as I watch him remove the wrapped present from the bag. If only for something to do, I take the bag back and set it to the side. My knees bounce beneath the tablecloth.

I've never worried so much over someone's reaction to a gift, but what Nathan thinks of this one matters to me, much more than I'm able or willing to admit.

He tears carefully into the wrapping paper. I hold my breath. In his hands, he holds a hardcover copy of Anne Rice's 'The Tale of the Body Thief'. I can tell he's confused; however, he takes it in stride.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he says, and reaches across the table for my hand.

I wave him back. "Open the front cover."

He blinks at me and then slowly does as asked.

This is the important part.

"My mom found that at an estate sale when I was 16 years old. She didn't know who Anne Rice was. She just knew I loved her. It's autographed. You can imagine how ecstatic I was.

"I don't have much, Nathan, but... I want you to have this. It means a lot to me. I... Well... Happy birthday, ok?"

There is a long, long moment of silence. Nathan stares at the book in his hands. So much time passes, time filled with the sound of my pulse in my ears, underscored by the general commotion of the restaurant, and I think I may have royally fucked up. I mean, who gives someone a book for their birthday?

Finally, he lifts his eyes to my face, and his gaze is full of disbelief and wonder.

His voice, when he speaks, is low and thick.

"Maxie, this is... I can't take this. It's too much. Too important to you."

I'm relieved he doesn't throw the book down and storm out.

"It's a piece of me, Nathan, and... I want you to have it."

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he glances between me and the book in his hands.

"No one has ever given me anything so special, Maxie. I don't know what to say."

My nervousness has been replaced with joy.

"You really like it?"

He laughs. Reaches over to take my hand in his large one.

"I love it. Thank you. Thank you so much."

The astronauts can probably see my grin from outer space.

We have dinner. I want to pay for it, since it's his birthday, but Nathan will have none of it. He says he knows the owner and can get a great discount. Ha. Ha. Ha.

He fills me in on what he's been dealing with on the new hotel site in California. Apparently, not only has one of his foremen been negligent regarding construction, he's also been mismanaging money, something Nathan says should have been caught months ago. He alludes to embezzlement. It's all under investigation.

Despite his happiness at seeing me, he looks tired and stressed out. My heart goes out to him. I've got the perfect way to fix that.

He asks me about the library. I've mentioned, in passing, that the doors will be closing for good soon. I give him some vague answer. I don't want to talk about any of it tonight. I'm content to merely be in his company.

Nearly two hours later and we're in his suite. I'm trying to slip away to run him a bath. He's got his hands up my skirt.

"Listen here, sir," I admonish, finding it rather difficult to remain serious when his fingertips are tickling the backs of my thighs. "I'm trying to give you the rest of your present. You're ruining it!"

"If the rest of my present is under this fluff, then I'm not ruinin' it. You are. Give it to me."

He pulls me out of the bathroom doorway and back to the bed.

"Ok, if this is how you want it." I use his tie to tug him down to me. I kiss him deeply, tasting the wine we shared, and the dark whiskey taste I've come to think of as pure Nathan. He lets out a low appreciative moan, his fingers flexing over my hips as I loosen his tie.

"God, I haven't been able to get you off my mind all week, Maxie," he murmurs, his breath warming my cheek.

"I must be doing something right, huh?"

His hands sweep upward to splay over the bare skin of my back.

"Everything, woman."

I let him hold me, caress me through the fabric of my dress as I work at getting him out of his suit. I slip off his jacket and ask, while I'm popping the buttons of his dress shirt, "What did you think about when you thought about me?"

I like when he talks dirty to me. What would have been crude coming from someone else manages to be absolutely perfect on his tongue.

He smiles his dark, teasing smile and allows me to slip off his shirt. "I thought of you in this very room, laid out in this very bed. Open, wet, and ready for me."

I disengage his belt buckle. My fingers are trembling slightly.

"What did you do to me when I was open, wet and ready?"

He dips his head to capture my lips. "Tasted you, of course. Devoured you. You taste like heaven, Maxie. Pure, liquid heaven."

His words, rough-edged and raw, send a shiver up my spine. I'm so tempted to give him exactly what he's asking for, though I'm determined to make this night about him.

"Did you fuck me?" I say, my voice nothing more than a breathless, seductive whisper in the cool stillness of the room.

"Absolutely. Hard and deep. You moaned for me. Screamed for me. Begged me for more."

My knees are going to buckle. I just know it. It takes everything in me to remain standing.

I let him shove his slacks and boxers down his long legs, then give him a little push. He bounces slightly on the edge of the bed. Using the toe of one high heel, I push his clothes to the side and move my hands around my back. My eyes are trained on his face as I slowly slide the zipper down.

The dress loosens, and I aid in its removal by giving a little shimmy to make it fall the rest of the way off.

I must make a pretty picture because the light in Nathan's eyes wavers. So does his smile. His gaze travels over my body - from the sheer demi bra (red, of course), to the sheer panties (red, again), to the pumps still on my feet. I rest my hands on my hips and strike a pose with my shoulders back and one knee bent.

When his eyes meet mine, I give a slow wink.

He reaches out to trace a slim finger through the valley of my cleavage. The same finger dips lower to flick at an already hardened, chocolate nipple. Warmth spirals from the point of contact, slithers downward where it pulses and vibrates.

"Come here," he says.

I allow him to pull me to him. I fill the empty space between his knees and cup his face in my small hands. His skin is warm. Just a little rough. I bend and press my lips to his. I kiss him slowly, deeply, letting him feel, in this way, how much I've missed him, how glad I am he appreciated my gift.

Kissing Nathan is quickly becoming one of my favorite things. There is no battle for dominance. He merely opens to the slick push of my tongue, drinking in the soft sighs I offer him.

An offering. That's what I am. What I've crafted myself into tonight. For Nathan. For his pleasure.

I like him. I like him a lot.

I nip at his bottom lip and he huffs. His fingers coast down my sides. When I pull away, he puts those delicious lips to work on my tits. His tongue marks a searing path along my dark skin. I whimper when he latches on to a distended nipple, uses tongue and teeth to manipulate my flesh through the barely-there material of the bra.

Pleasure, clear and sweet, causes my belly to tighten. I try to pull back, this night is supposed to be for him, but he holds fast to me, moving his mouth to the opposite nipple and lavishing it with equal affection.

My cunt throbs, clenches, searching for something substantial to hold on to, and Nathan willingly obliges. He slips a hand over my mound, easily finding my clit. The combination of his skillful fingers and equally skillful mouth have me so very close to the edge already.

"Nathan, I'm... mmm...I'm supposed to be giving you... hmm... your present."

"Mmhmm," he hums, and the rumble of his voice flows through me, causes more of my juices to trickle out of me.

Fuck, do I want to push him down and impale myself on his dick.

Through sheer will alone, I step out of his reach. I smack his hands down when he moves to pull me back.

"If you can't behave," I say, pointing a finger in his face, "I'll have to tie you down."

He smirks, his face twisting up as if he's actually considering it. "That could work."

I laugh. "Noted."

I take a moment to look at him. He is, undoubtedly, beautiful. I want to run my hands over his naked body, to drag them down the solid expanse of lean muscle. I've grown familiar with the give and pull of his flesh beneath me. The rhythmic way it moves inside my own. I can readily recall the taste of his sweat on my lips.

I continue to stare at him and, when I finally meet his gaze, there's something floating in the depths of his lovely greens. Something heavy. A thought deep enough to have weight and substance; a thought which hints at a fluttering sort of understanding that sets my pulse racing and softens some of my hard edges.

"I'm glad I met you," he says suddenly, all traces of playful Nathan gone. "I'm really glad you came into the bar that night, Maxie."

My stomach twists, emotion momentarily clouding my vision, and I start to turn away, to hide what's swiftly becoming so apparent.

Here, within the soft hazy yellow glow created by the bedside lamps, within the quiet of his lavish suite, I realize... I could actually fall for this man. If I'm honest, I think I already have, if only just a little.

It's one of those moments, one everybody knows, when you're standing bare before another human being, with a heavily thudding heart and a single word stuck to the roof of your mouth. It's the kind of moment when the very center of your being is overflowing with a need, a tangible, unnamable need - to be seen. To be attached and connected. So much so it hurts, and you think you can't possibly feel so deeply for someone you've only just met. Someone you hardly know. Right?

Right...?

Yet, the feeling is there. It's terrifying. And, it's there.

Just waiting to be named.

Nathan's fingers twine through mine and he turns me back before I can get too far. I wonder if he can feel me trembling. My tongue feels heavy. My fingers are tingling.

"What?" he asks, softly, dipping his head to catch my gaze.

"Dammit, I had this whole thing planned out. I think I lost my nerve."

I laugh, and it sounds so forced.

He lifts our hands and places a gentle, lingering kiss in each of my open palms.

Fuck. He can't be this perfect. There's no fucking way. It's scientifically impossible.

"You think too much."

He uses his body, his long, strong arms wrapped around me, to lower me to the bed. I've missed the weight of him over me. The warmth of him and the clean, earthy scent of his cologne.

His lips trail over the smooth skin of my neck, stopping briefly to suckle the tender bit of flesh above my collar bone. Lower, now. Tongue laving the soft patch between my breasts and grazing the gentle slope of my stomach. Each hip. He sighs in appreciation and slips my panties down my legs. My body moves and bends with him, twitching at every lingering caress.

He kneels above me and coaxes my legs open. Wide. There is fire in his eyes. My knees jerk inward when his thumbs skim down my inner thighs. He watches me, watches me writhe and purr beneath him.

Need hooks sharp claws into the pit of my stomach.

The first pass of his thumb over my slit, my engorged lower lips, sends my hips shooting up off of the mattress, sends slithering tendrils of pleasure echoing from my cunt to my brain. He flattens his hand over my stomach, right below my belly button and presses me down, easily holding me in place while his thumb continues its lazy exploration.

He draws smooth patterns in my wetness, dipping inside my core to gather the moisture leaking from me and using it to circle my clit. I huff and hiss, watch the light in his eyes flicker and pop as he builds me up.

"This is how I imagined you, Maxie," he says. He licks his lips and I moan, wanting to do the very same. "I couldn't wait to come back to this." He emphasizes his point by dipping his thumb inside me and dragging it upward.

"Oh... unnh..."

"Did you miss me, Maxie?" His voice is a low rumble, the way it gets when he's focused on me and the pleasure we create together.

I can only nod.

He lowers himself until he's propped on one arm above me. His thumb continues its languid movement, my clit throbbing in tandem. It's not enough. My orgasm waits in the wings, pulled forward and then shoved immediately back with every light pass. I rock my hips upward.

"Nathan," I whine softly.

"I missed bein' inside you, Maxie." He swipes at my bottom lip with his tongue, then shifts his hand so he's got his index finger buried inside me. He curls it upward. Taps at that sweet spot, and I moan and press my knees into his waist. Still it's not enough.

"Nathan, I need to feel you." I sound so helpless. So wanton. So needy. He makes me this way - with his kisses and the deft curl of a finger.

One corner of his mouth quirks into a wry smile.

"Good, 'cuz I can't wait anymore."

He shifts to the side, taking his hand away from me to reach for the drawer where he keeps the condoms, but I grab his wrist and tighten my knees at his waist.

"No."

I can see the question in his eyes. The confusion. I simply shake my head.

"No. Like this." I reach between us and curl my slim fingers around his cock. It's hot and heavy in my hand. Hard as steel and softer than silk. "Just like this."