After that wild, sweaty explosion on the kitchen counter, where Nick’s tongue had worked my p***y until I shattered into a trembling mess and I’d sucked his d**k until he cursed my name, an awkward silence had crept in like a fog I couldn’t shake.
I slumped there, my bare thighs still sticky against the cool granite, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath, my mind spinning in a million directions about what the hell had just happened between us.
Nick stood up slowly, his d**k still half-hard and glistening in the dim light, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as that smug grin faded into something softer, like he was waiting for me to say something—anything—to break the tension that hung thick in the air.
I couldn’t look at him straight, my fingers fumbling to pull my top
