Slip of the Tongue (Slip of the Tongue 1)

His hand tightens around my bicep. “Christ, Sadie . . .”

The train comes to a grinding halt. If he weren’t holding me, I’d fly forward. The doors open. We’re at our stop. He and I stare at each other a moment. “Go ahead,” I dare him. “You’ve been trying to get rid of me all night, haven’t you?”

He hesitates, but releases me and leaves the car. I give him a head start. When he’s halfway up the stairs, I catch him checking over his shoulder for me. I’m not there, but he doesn’t stop.

Right before the subway doors close, I hop out. By the time I’m on ground level, he’s gone.

My phone rings. I answer it with, “You left something on the train.”

“Yeah?” Nathan asks. “What?”

“Me.” I swallow, checking left and right. There are people around, but fuck it. This is New York City. Nothing shocks anyone. “Do you normally walk away from a woman who’s ready and willing to suck your cock?”

The man walking ahead of me looks back, but I avert my eyes.

“Fuck, Sadie,” Nathan says. “You aren’t playing fair—”

“I bet it’s huge. A tall, strong man like you.” Nathan and I can talk it up in bed, but I’m not used to being this candid. Especially in public. I can’t let him distract me, though. As long as Nathan wants me, I haven’t lost him. As long he reacts, even if it’s with anger, then there’s still a chance. I can’t seem to connect with him emotionally lately, but sex can bring him back to me, even if it’s only for a little while.

I press on. “Does she let you come in her mouth, your wife?”

“No—” The word comes out strangled.

This is supposed to be for him, but it’s working on me too. I’m getting wet. “I would. Like a good fucking slut.”

The line goes dead. I check the screen. He hung up. Shit. Why? If he wants a slut, I can be that. He doesn’t need to find a Joan, or anyone else, to satisfy him. But what else can I do to show him I care? He rejects my touch. My words. My love. All that I have. I’m at a loss.

By the time I reach our apartment building, my self-doubt has become a hurricane inside me. It shouldn’t be so much work to get my husband to notice me.

But when I get off the elevator, Nathan’s there, leaning against the door of our apartment. His arms are folded over his chest, his eyes dark. I can’t read his mood. I don’t speak as I approach, afraid to say the wrong thing.

“How’d you find me?” he asks.

My heart skips. He still wants to play. I don’t miss a beat. “I followed you.”

“Why?”

“Because, I . . .” I glance at the door. “I . . . want to come in.”

“My wife is home.”

My thighs tremble. My panties are sticky, already damp from earlier. This is having a swift effect on me. “Are you suggesting—”

He whirls me around and pushes me up against the front door. “This what you want?” he asks. “Is this why you won’t leave me the fuck alone?”

I’m not sure if we’re still role-playing. My breasts are mashed, but I like this new side to Nathan. The shock alone is enough to get me going. “Yes,” I say. “I want this.”

He pulses his hips into my backside, and I have my answer. There’s no question he still wants me, even if I am his unexciting wife. With my cheek against the door, I can see Finn’s apartment. My mind flashes to earlier, Finn’s hot, his hungry lips. “Here?” I ask.

“We can’t go inside,” he taunts. “You want this, don’t you?”

There’s no chance I’d stop him now. Anything I get from him feels like a small victory.

He yanks up my skirt and runs a hand up the silky inside of my tights. “All these goddamn layers.”

“Rip them.”

He doesn’t waste a second. He stretches the fabric from my leg and uses his other hand to pierce it. Once my tights puncture, they give easily. He rubs me, dominating my senses, drowning out anything that isn’t his touch. When I’m whimpering, he slides his fingers inside me. He knows me well. Within seconds, I can’t catch my breath, and the door rattles against my chest. He takes his hand away, and I know what’s coming.

He gets his keys out and unlocks the door, hurrying me inside.

“What about your wife?” I whisper.

“We’ll have to be quiet.”

I turn on the lights. He turns them back out and pulls me against him by my waist. He starts to gather my skirt in his hands when Ginger pushes her nose between us.

“Ginger, no,” he says.

Her tail whacks his leg. She jumps up on us, wanting to play.

Nathan takes her collar. “I said no. Down.” He pulls her away and leaves me standing there. I wait, breathing hard, my knees nearly knocking together. A door slams.

Nathan returns. The apartment is still completely dark. “On your knees.”

I drop down to the cold, hard tile. I’m salivating, ready to take every inch of him. Fucking in the doorway, we’ve done, but I don’t remember ever blowing him here.

I push his hands away from his pants. He’s too slow. I take him out, the long, hard cock that belongs to me, the one I know better than my own pussy. I run the tip of my tongue around the underside of his crown. He fists my hair. I lick his shaft. Suck his balls. Bite the inside of his thigh, the way he likes. I know I’m golden when his cum beads on my tongue.

I blow him to get him off—slow, then fast, then slow again. I take him deep for as long as I can manage, then suckle his tip. With a groan, he falls onto his outstretched arms against the wall. He thrusts lightly, working himself deeper into my mouth. He shudders, close to the edge.

Spreading his hand over my scalp, he threads his fingers in my hair. “Fuck me, you’re too good. I’m going to come.”

I bob my head faster. He hasn’t finished in my mouth since before I can remember, but not because I won’t let him. He likes to fuck me at the end, come inside me.

Not tonight. My only warning is a hoarse shout before he floods my mouth. I’m even more turned on now, knowing he was so excited he couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve done and been exactly what he needed.

He pulls out, panting.

“I swallowed it all,” I say. “Like a good slut.”

He stares at me, his mouth open as he labors for breath. He tucks himself back into his pants. “Are you mocking me?”

“No.” I bite my bottom lip and slide my hand between my legs. “I loved it. I want more.”

“When it’s convenient for you.”

I scoff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He walks away. After a moment, Ginger comes bounding out, nearly tackling me to the ground. I get up and take off my boots. I leave my tights, holding onto the small hope he’ll want to rip them more. In the bedroom, I find him shirtless in his underwear. He pulls on his sweatpants.

“That’s it?” I ask.

“I told you in the shower this morning, Sadie. I don’t want this right now, but you keep pushing me. I can’t keep a clear head when we’re fucking.”

“What do you need a clear head for?” I ask, crossing my arms. “Tell me, so I can help.”

“I will,” he looks pointedly at me, “once my head is clear, and I know what I want to say.”

I scowl, my cheeks heating. I’m tempted to seduce him again just so I can show him how it feels to be rejected. “You know what? Just get the hell out.”

“What?”

I grab his pillow, carry it into the living room, and toss it on the couch. Next, I go to the linen closet and get a clean set of sheets.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

I unceremoniously drop them next to the pillow. “Have fun sleeping on the couch.”

He blocks me as I try to reenter our bedroom. “I’m not trying to hurt you.” He runs his free hand through his hair and pulls it. The pain in his face makes me pause. “I just need this. I need to figure my stuff out.”

“What stuff?” I plead. I’m tired of fighting—

with him, with myself.

“I’ll come to you when I’m ready. I promise. Until then, I’m asking for this one thing. Back off.”

“You say that like it’s no big deal. You live in my apartment.”

“Our apartment.”

“You know what I fucking mean. Don’t twist my words. We live together. How am I supposed to ignore you?”

“Not ignore,” he says. “Just a little space.”

“You told me never to give you space.”

That makes him pause. He looks me over, my ripped tights and hiked up skirt. “I know. I did say that, but . . .”