Being Bookish - Chapter 1

This is the first novel I finished when I began writing again, although it is the second in the series. Nick is the OG book boyfriend and forever my favorite. This is likely the book I will self-publish first. Love you, Nick, you great honking dork.

Chapter 1 

Nicholas Leif wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten himself into this situation. Still, he figured he might as well roll with it— as the situation in question involved making out heavily in the shadowy back corner of the VIP area. The VIP area was in The Orb, one of Miami’s more popular dance clubs. The reason he was there in the first place, as it so often was, involved his company, K&L Security. 

Nick, along with his business partner and best mate Caleb Kawai, needed to entertain a couple of big wigs from a business conglomerate they were trying to make inroads with. The gentlemen in question, who were of a type: wealthy, middle-aged, in Miami sans their spouses and looking to indulge in the city’s party scene, had wanted to go clubbing. So, clubbing Nick had gone, along with Caleb and his brilliant and lovely girlfriend, Briar. Nick, currently unencumbered by a significant other, had chatted up a girl from a group of women who somehow materialized as part of their party once the money and drinks began to flow.

Chatting led to flirting, which eventually led to the very situation Nick now found himself in. The woman (Ashlee? Aimee?) had one hand quite firmly over his cock while she held the front of his shirt with the other. Nick kept his arms rather loose around her, unsure which way this whole thing was headed. Given the irritated looks his partner Caleb kept casting back to the dark corner Nick found himself in, he figured he had about ten more minutes of fun before Dad would call curfew. The woman pressed against him and gave his cock a squeeze, causing Nick to gasp into her mouth as he pushed his hips forward, involuntarily thrusting into her hand. 

“Bloody hell, lass,” he moaned, “You’ll be the death of me!” 

The girl giggled. “I like your accent.” 

Well, of course, she did. It was probably his most interesting feature, unusual as it was. A lifetime spent shuttling between Dublin, London, and California with a British father and an Irish mother had given him an accent as mercurial as his nature. 

He could be all proper and posh, sound like his East-end mates, or slide into his mother’s Irish brogue effortlessly, swapping out various slang terms with ease. He could even put on a passable American accent if pressed. He usually pushed things up a bit when chatting up a girl, as American women seemed to love an accent. It worked more often than not. At least, it did initially. Usually, things never progressed past a few dates. 

Sometimes that was Nick’s choice, sometimes the girl’s. He hadn’t thought much about it one way or the other. At least, not until his taciturn best friend had turned into a love-besotted fool. Much as he teased Caleb, though, he was increasingly feeling a bit blue about the whole thing. More and more often, he found himself the third wheel of their merry little trio.

“LEIF!” Caleb roared.

“Ah, my master’s voice, yeah?” He unwound himself from the girl’s embrace, smiling apologetically. She pouted but didn’t seem terribly put out when he called for another round of Cristal. She eventually wandered back to the gaggle of women hanging around the small lounge.

Nick adjusted himself, then loped back to the circle of couches, leaping over the low back of one to land with a thump next to Briar. He gave them a big grin and threw his arms over the back.

“What’s all this, then?” He asked in a chipper tone. Briar smirked to herself as she sipped a mojito. Caleb did what he did best: glower.

“Fuck Leif, can you pretend to be professional? We’re here with potential clients!” 

Nick raised his thick eyebrows, “You mean those potential clients?” He gestured first to the one man out on the floor dirty dancing with some girl half his age, then jerked a thumb to the other dark corner of the VIP area where their second guest was buying some Molly from one of the girls.

“He does have a point,” Briar added, smirk still firmly in place. She often said that Caleb and Nick were ‘dinner and a show’. Endlessly amused by their interactions, she sometimes even poked at things a bit herself to ramp them up. Caleb slowly turned, fixing her with his patented, intense stare. Nick wondered, not for the first time, if he practiced it in the mirror. Briar looked up into Caleb’s piercing blue eyes and shivered, a slow smile spreading across her face, amber eyes glowing, causing heat to rise in turn in Caleb’s. Nick suddenly found he had to adjust himself again. Damn, those two could set fire to a room.

“Getting hot in here, yeah?” He fanned himself.

“Apparently.” Caleb grunted, gesturing to the noticeable bulge of Nick’s crotch. Briar snorted into her mojito. 

Nick shrugged and tugged his waistcoat down absently. “Couldn’t be helped, could it? As though you two don’t go about like you’re a minute away from having at it all the bloody time.” Briar’s smirk got bigger, but a pretty flush rose to her cheeks. Caleb put a possessive arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. She sighed in contentment as he tucked her up against his side. Briar was a tall drink of water, but Caleb was even taller, with a mass of long hair tied up in a bun and bold tribal tattoos wrapped around his formidable upper arms. The sleek, auburn-headed Valkyrie that was Briar looked almost delicate next to him. They were a lovely-looking couple and his favorite people in the world next to his family. Still, seeing them so head over arse for each other gave him a strange, sad pang in his heart at times. 

“Well, when do you think we can cut these two loose? I’m about done in.” Nick jerked his chin at their guests and yawned dramatically, making Briar yawn in turn and Caleb growl.

“You know this is part of it, Nick.”

“I know, Cal, I know, I’m just getting a little long in the tooth for these kinds of nights.” Nick sighed with actual weariness this time, feeling every one of his forty-two years. “You know I’d rather be home with a good book.”

“I know.” There was a thread of affection and understanding in Caleb’s voice. “I feel the same. This scene gets old.” Unspoken was that he had no desire to be out anymore because he’d rather be back in his condo with Briar. Nick couldn’t blame him. 

Just then, his watch buzzed with a notification. Glancing at it, he felt his mood lift a bit. “Brilliant!” At Briar’s questioning glance, Nick confided, “It’s just a message from my mate, Bookish Babe.” He eagerly fished his phone out of his pocket. 

“Oh,” Briar nodded, “the book blogger.”

“Only you would slide into someone’s DMs on Goodreads.” Caleb muttered.

“Sod off,” Nick said, his tongue peeking out and brow furrowed as he typed. “Not like that anyway, is it? She’s just brilliant about books, and it’s nice to have someone with actual taste in them to talk with.” He glanced contemptuously at his friend, who just rolled his eyes. Caleb was actually a voracious reader as well. It was simply that his tastes ran to history and biographies while Nick was mad for science fiction and horror. 

Truth be told, Nick had, in fact, connected with Bookish Babe over Goodreads, where he’d loved her extremely witty and sometimes acerbic reviews. From there, he’d found her blog and quickly became an active member of her little community. He started regularly commenting on her posts, and she seemed to like his wit and insight, always responding in turn. Eventually, it just seemed easier to start messaging each other over WhatsApp.

He’d never asked her name, nor had she requested his. They both just went by their usernames. Bookish Babe was cautious about her privacy, and he certainly respected that. As a security professional, Nick was equally careful about what he put out on social media platforms, kept his stuff minimal, and carefully locked it down. Their friendship was based on a mutual love of books, and for a long time, that had primarily been what they spoke about. 

Slowly, however, they started to share little things about their days, relying on each other for a friendly good morning, to vent about a rough day, or to wish a good night. They’d both been highly circumspect, however. It suited Nick fine. He just enjoyed the back-and-forth between them.

If he were honest, though, he would admit to being a wee bit in love with her mind. She was funny and quirky, like him. They could message each other endlessly about the nature of the mind, their latest favorite audio drama podcast, or rhapsodize over Martha Wells’ Murderbot Diaries. 

If Nick found her messages to be one of the highlights of his day, especially lately, with his best mate off in love land, who could blame him? It made him feel like someone was there for him, keeping him company some evenings when he was a bit lonely at home. She made him laugh and really think about the subjects they discussed. 

He finally raised his head to find that the corporate tossers were back, arms around young women, saying they were heading out and thanking Caleb and Nick for the grand time. Nick leapt up, slapping backs and giving hearty goodbyes while steering them towards the door. When he returned, he grinned and gave Caleb and Briar a big thumbs-up. 

“That’s sorted then, I’m knackered. Heading home.”

“Would you like to come back to the condo and have a nightcap?” Briar asked, and Nick almost shed a tear; so sweet, this woman, the best possible person for his person. Even Caleb schooled his expression, no doubt so Nick wouldn’t note that he only wanted to be home alone with his best girl. They loved him, which meant the world, but they also wanted time together.

The days of Nick practically living over at Caleb’s were over, as much as they both made a real effort to include him as often as they could. 

Even his and Caleb’s twice-weekly nights at The Poe, a funky little pub/cafe/lending library and their favorite spot for a pint, had fallen off. 

Things were changing, and Nick would just have to adjust. He gave Briar an adoring look. 

“No, luv, I’m well and truly done. Just want to go home and look at the inside of my own eyelids. You just let that big hunk of man take you home and do delightfully filthy things to you, right?” He winked at her as she laughed and hugged him, then Nick threw his arms around Caleb, who actually gave the best bloody hugs no matter how intimidating he came off. 

“Night, you beautiful bastard! Night Briar Rose!” He grinned brightly, gave a jaunty wave, and, turning on his heel, exited the club.

“I worry a little about him,” Briar said thoughtfully. Caleb nodded, staring after his friend. 

“Things are a lot different now for you both. Us being together, it’s changed how much time he gets to spend with you,” she paused with a frown. “I feel guilty sometimes, like I’m taking you away from him.”

“Stop that,” Caleb murmured, pulling her back against his chest and nuzzling her hair. She made a soft sound of pleasure. “Nick and I will find our new footing.” 

Holding her close from behind like that, feeling her soft curves pressed snugly against him, was giving Caleb ideas. He tightened his grip on her, enjoying the sharp breath she took as his gentle hold became hungry. 

He pressed his lips to her ear. “Let’s go back to my condo so I can do some of those filthy things to you.” 

Briar shivered happily and nodded, but still shot a worried look at Nick’s retreating back.

****

Nick closed and locked the door of the apartment he was staying in. It was very nice, as far as flats went, situated as it was in a luxury multi-use building in the middle of downtown. Spacious and high-end with all the amenities, it housed a lot of well-to-do young professionals who worked and played nearby. But even after a couple of years there, it didn’t fully feel like his space. He’d initially considered taking a condo in Ma Kai, the building owned by Caleb. He’d even flirted with taking over the second of the two penthouse units, moving in right next to his best mate. But for some reason, he’d dragged his feet on it. 

They’d certainly roomed together before. In college, they had been put together as roommates: Caleb, from Hawaii, quiet, taciturn, and slightly older, coming off of a 3-year tour of duty with the Marines, and Nick, the brilliant, geeky, talkative Irish/English younger man, who graduated year 13 early, and was coming to Uni after a year of travel. Against all odds, somehow, they clicked. They clicked like no other friendship had for either of them. Of course, not at first. In fact, for the first few weeks, it was touch and go on whether Caleb would simply hang Nick out of their third-story dorm window by his feet and drop him. 

But they started talking about their lives, dreams, and goals one drunken night. Nick found, to his utter astonishment, that the jarhead with the rapidly growing out buzz cut and tribal tattoos had a rich inner life, just one he rarely shared. He spoke of his grandfather, their relationship, and the almost spiritual experience of surfing. He spoke of the violence that befell his family, the underlying racism behind it, and how he’d determined then and there that he would control everything in his life he was capable of controlling. For his part, Nick shared things that, even as much as he loved to talk, he’d never told anyone outside his family. He confessed how his endlessly uprooted lifestyle led to his almost desperate desire for safety for himself and others.

Nick awoke the following day slightly hungover but with the beginnings of a roadmap for his life with this new friend, who eventually became a best friend, a business partner, and the mate Nick would rely on again and again through his entire adult life. After Uni, they still roomed together many times throughout the years. But there was just something about that big condo. It didn’t feel like the right fit. He finally assured Caleb it was ok to sell it. 

That was fate, apparently, because shortly after it went on the market, Briar scooped it up. Although things had been just as touch and go there initially, where Briar metaphorically hung Caleb out of a window by his feet and threatened to drop him, they were together now and deeply in love. It was still early days, but Caleb had confided to Nick that he was thinking long-term about opening the two condos into one larger one. 

Nick was happy for them, but he felt like he was in some sort of battle with himself as of late. He’d traveled so much as part of the life his family led. He had intended to put roots down in Miami when he and Caleb moved there to start their business. But somehow, Nick couldn’t pull the trigger on a home. 

Yet now he felt uprooted and unsettled, especially lately. During his youth, his family provided a sense of grounding despite constantly changing countries, cities, and homes. Caleb had provided much of that grounding for him in adulthood. But for the past few months, he’d lost that feeling, even though, in some ways, Briar’s presence added to and enriched his relationship with Caleb. He and Briar had become fast friends. She loved to joke and laugh with him, and they often ganged up on Caleb in delightfully silly ways.

Meanwhile, his best mate simply watched their antics with affection and exasperation. Still, it was all different than it had been. Nick shook his head as he dropped his satchel with a thump in the foyer, unlaced and kicked off his high tops, and wandered into the kitchen to grab a bottle of Carling. A chirp at his feet broke his unhappy rumination, and he looked down to see a very fluffy, tiny black kitten sitting prettily and looking up at him with big yellow-green eyes.

“Look at you, twee thing.” Nick scooped the kitten up, carrying it and the bottle of lager out to his living room. He collapsed onto the oversized leather sectional and groped around for the remote that let him recline. Nick placed the kitten on his chest and took a long pull from the bottle. Sighing, he finally felt some of the angst of the evening lift. 

“Cheers, Socrates!” He tipped the bottle towards the kitten, who reached out to pat it, then shook the condensation off his little paw and gave Nick an offended look. Nick chuckled and stroked the little cat, who settled into a contented purr. Nick requested the home system play one of his custom playlists, took a long pull off the lager, then got up with a groan from the sectional to change. Returning in sweats and an old underground ‘Mind the gap’ T-shirt that had seen better days, he collected a fresh bottle and his phone. With the kitten re-settled on his chest, he thumbed open WhatsApp.

Lit Brit: Cheers then! FINALLY HOME. 🍻

He sat back and closed his eyes. The kitten was a warm purring presence on his chest, the music was soothing, and the Carling went down a treat. His phone pinged softly, and a warm smile stole over his face as he opened his eyes and lifted it.

Bookish Babe: Welcome home, weary traveler! Was it horrid? It was horrid, wasn’t it?

Lit Brit: Truly, deeply, madly. Work events like that are always brutal. Had to keep that couple of rich tossers entertained all night.

Bookish Babe: My poor dear! Partying all night! 😉

Lit Brit: Believe me, it sounds much more grand than it actually is. 😑

Bookish Babe: I was just teasing. Sounds like the 6th circle of hell to me, frankly.

Lit Brit: Which circle is that one again?

Bookish Babe: The one where you have to commit the heresy of making small talk in a loud club with people you don’t know.

Lit Brit: Shudders

Bookish Babe: RIGHT!?!

Lit Brit: How’s the evening finding you?

Bookish Babe: Quite lovely. I’ve been holding a salon with the finest luminaries and my myriad lovers.

Lit Brit: So pizza and… The Expanse?

Bookish Babe: Thai and Mrs. Davis 🙃

Lit Brit: It’s like I don’t even know you anymore!

Bookish Babe: Hey, Mrs. Davis slaps. You need to watch it!

Lit Brit: I have imposed a cap of no more than 50 streaming services at any one time

Bookish Babe: Fair. Anyway, I had a long day. We’ve been working like crazy to get this stupid event ready!

Lit Brit: So, how’s “The Event” coming?

Bookish Babe: Well, for the most part, on track. The next few weeks will be crazy, but it’s all over in less than a month, and I will take a few days of MUCH DESERVED vacation! 🏝️

Lit Brit: Brilliant! Any plans?

There was a long pause before she replied, and Nick felt a little stab of worry. He knew she was cautious with what she revealed about her life. Nick hoped he hadn’t made her uncomfortable by asking about her vacation plans. He sipped his lager and tried not to keep checking his phone. Finally, to his relief, it pinged.

Bookish Babe: To be honest, I haven’t decided. I know I don’t want to do a staycation. I love my home, but since it’s where I work most of the time, yeah…I want to get out of the house.

Lit Brit: Well, what do you love? The beach? The mountains? A creepy little town in Maine called Castle Rock?

Bookish Babe: 😂😂😂

Lit Brit: 💀

Bookish Babe: Well, the beach is kind of a second home. It always relaxes me. I might find some cute place on or near the beach and spend a few days…

Lit Brit: Sounds lovely

Bookish Babe: Mmm hmmm, long morning walks, reading in a lounge chair on the sand. Local seafood, NAPS!

Lit Brit: NAPS!

Bookish Babe: LOL, well, I guess I have a plan then.

Lit Brit: You deserve it. I know you’ve been grinding away at this bloody thing.

Bookish Babe: I appreciate it. It’s nice to have SOMEONE acknowledge my hard work, LOL!

Lit Brit: Of course, pet, I’m always on your team!

Bookish Babe: 🥰

Nick smiled fondly, then cracked a yawn.

Lit Brit: Think I need to call it a night, my friend. I’m wrecked.

Bookish Babe: Yeah, sounds like it was quite the evening. Get some rest, Brit.

Lit Brit: Don’t you stay up late yourself! I know you, Ms. “Just one more page, then I’ll go to bed.”

Bookish Babe: 🤣 You’re not wrong. Night Brit 💚

Lit Brit: Night Bookish ❤️

Nick leaned back, finished the last of his drink, and stared blankly at the large TV, currently dark. His thoughts meandered around, flitting from his feelings over his changing friendship with Caleb to how nice it was to have this lovely texting relationship with Bookish. 

He thought about the night and the make-out session with the girl (was it Kellee?) at the club. 

In retrospect, it had been fun, even if it’d been a bit too public (not that it was the first time he’d done something like that). Nick shifted a little. He’d gotten quite worked up, but had to shut it all down. 

Chewing on his lip, Nick let his mind shift guiltily to how he loved the way Caleb would sometimes look at Briar and how she’d respond in turn. It was, objectively, bloody hot. He mused about what it would be like to have a woman respond that way to just a look from him. Most of the time, he elicited giggles, and that was ok. That was all part of his schtick. 

He didn’t smolder like Caleb, the great, sexy beast. At least he didn’t think he did. He pulled up his phone’s camera and tried a smoldering look. 

“Rubbish!” He snorted and tossed the phone down. He just looked like a twat. Still, he did alright, didn’t he? Could have pulled that girl at the club if he’d made half an effort. Now, feeling a bit revved up yet sitting alone, he wondered why he hadn’t. He supposed, in part, it would have felt a bit off, pulling some girl in front of Briar. She was no fainting flower, but she did make him want to be a better person, at least when he knew she was watching. He chuckled. 

Still, right now, he wanted someone who looked at him the way she looked at Caleb. His thoughts, rather unerringly, drifted to ‘The Woman at The Poe.’ 

That was what Caleb had dubbed her. He and Nick usually hit The Poe for a drink a couple of times a week, though sadly, a bit less as of late. Still, it was there that Nick first saw her. She caught his eye the first time because she was curled up in one of the big armchairs that Dalia and Jim Taylor, owners of The Poe, had tucked in a cozy corner near a fireplace that was rarely lit with Miami’s heat. This had been back late in the season last fall. 

She’d been tucked up, her long legs clad in dark jeans under her, shoes discarded on the floor, her bare feet peeking out. Dalia hadn’t said a thing to her about that. Instead, she called her luv and hovered over her maternally. She’d ordered a big mug of milky tea and sat contentedly, reading on her Kindle for the entire time Nick and Caleb had been there. 

Nick was entranced enough that he’d later asked after her. Dalia said she didn’t know the dear thing but that she’d started coming in recently. After he’d headed home, she’d left his mind for the most part, but the next week, there she was again, tucked in the big chair, barefoot. He was so distracted that during their conversation, Caleb needed to call Nick’s name several times to get him to focus. That day, Caleb had dubbed her ‘The Woman at the Poe.’

After that, they saw her there sporadically. Caleb endlessly encouraged, teased, and downright argued with Nick to approach her and ask her out. But Nick constantly refused. He wasn’t sure why. He usually was willing to throw himself head-on into an uncomfortable situation, but there was something about her body language. She was very… self-contained. She gave off a vibe that she didn’t want to be interrupted or bothered. 

Curled up, curled in. 

She was dressed in jeans and an oversized jumper in a dark sage green that late fall day. Her dark brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. She had a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. That, coupled with some threads of gray in her hair, let him know she wasn’t some young thing, though she looked stunning to him. He would have assumed she was in her mid-thirties if pressed, not that he was good at that sort of thing. But he had a feeling that she was perhaps a wee bit older by the way she held herself. 

She was simply lovely, not like a supermodel or actress or even like the pretty young things that flocked to The Orb, where he had often found a quick hook-up or a girl interested enough in him (or maybe his money and success) to be with him for a while.

No, just… there was something about her. Nick couldn’t even put his finger on it. Her single-minded focus as she read, the way her lips pursed as she sipped her tea. He knew he was building a person in his mind that may have had little basis in reality, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

Still, the more time passed, the more the idea of approaching her seemed impossible. He did sometimes go to look at books on the shelves near her. At one point, he spent a little too long hovering just behind her. He wandered close on the excuse to himself that he was looking for a book, but in reality, he was trying to get a peek over her shoulder at her Kindle screen, curious about what she was reading. 

“Is there a reason why you are… looming over me?” She asked quietly, not looking up from her book. 

Nick stumbled back, startled. “Sorry luv– er so, so sorry! I, no, just…” He was about to try saying he was curious about what she was reading, but when Nick looked at her, he noticed the tension in her posture and felt simply horrible. “I’m sorry,” he finished lamely. 

She sighed softly and refocused on what she was reading. Nick wandered away like a puppy who’d been smacked with a newspaper. He’d not dared approach her since, though he watched her almost obsessively whenever she was there at The Poe at the same time as he and Caleb.

He didn’t know why he was still so interested. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to be approached, but she just drew him in. So he respected her boundaries and left her alone, but he couldn’t stop admiring her from afar. Now, all heated from thinking about the evening’s events, he let his mind drift into a fantasy. 

He imagined approaching her where she sat, reading. Somehow, The Poe was empty, just the two of them there. He imagined kneeling down in front of her, and though she’d continue reading, a little smile turning her lips up on one side let him know she knew he was there and was pleased. Nick just looked at her for a while, feeling her enjoying his needy appraisal of her. He imagined slowly reaching out, caressing a long, bare leg. He imagined her in a short sundress. Once, she’d come in wearing a lovely little confection in white with a green print. The sight of her long legs flashing as she walked to her favorite armchair was burned into his brain. In this fantasy, he had her clad in that same dress. 

He kept gently caressing her until he was slowly able, with gentle tugs and nudges, to get her to uncoil those long legs and sit with them slightly apart. He imagined shifting forward between them, looking up at her, noticing her lips slightly parted as she tried to keep just reading. He imagined reaching up to stroke the side of her face and how she would close her eyes and turn into his palm, sighing. Nick groaned softly and reached down to squeeze himself through his sweats. His shifting movements disrupted the kitten, who leapt down with an indignant look and wandered off toward the kitchen. Nick himself rose and stretched, then sauntered into his bedroom. 

Before sprawling on his bed, he pulled open the drawer of his bedside table, reaching past the condoms he kept there, for a bottle of lube. He tugged off his T-shirt, revealing a lean but nicely fit torso, thanks to some modest gym time and weekly rugby with his mates. Slicking up his palm, he flopped on the bed, yanking down his waistband, and took himself in hand. Nick moaned at the feeling of his own slippery grip on his cock. He was hard and entirely in the hold of the fantasy he was spinning. He stroked himself slowly, imagining slipping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her in for a deep kiss. 

The memory of kissing the girl at the club blended into the delicious idea of kissing that lovely mystery woman from The Poe. He imagined doing so hungrily, feeling her make little sounds of pleasure in the back of her throat. Breaking the kiss, he imagined her saying his name in her dusky contralto. Nick sat back on his heels and began gently stroking her thighs, easing them wider. She’d be wearing some little panties, nothing fancy or lacy. Didn’t seem to be her style. But maybe she’d be wearing something thin and soft in a green matching the green print on her dress. They’d outline the soft curves of her sweet little cunny and already be damp with her excitement. 

Nick groaned and stroked himself a little faster, imagining running a finger down the damp material at the crease of her center, the pretty little sound she’d make, and how her Kindle would thump from her nerveless fingers to the floor, all pretense of reading now abandoned. In his mind’s eye, Nick hooked a finger under the edge of those panties, gently easing them aside. He imagined the delicious, light, musky scent of her. He imagined running his fingertips over short, damp curls, then spreading her folds before leaning in and, with a groan of pure pleasure, taking a long, slow taste of her, stroking his tongue up her center. 

The raw sound she’d make if he did that, just the thought of it, sent a wave of pleasure shooting through him. “Jaysus fecking–” he rubbed himself a little more firmly, feeling his stiff cock sliding through his lube-slicked fingers. It felt so good, the pleasure building low in his belly. He could see the scene so perfectly. Him kneeling there, head down between those lovely legs, lapping hungrily, reveling in her taste and the exquisite feel of her soft flesh and that firm little nub, slippery and sweet, in his mouth. He could see a fine sheen of perspiration break out across her skin, imagine her head dropping back, mouth open. The only sounds in the room, her soft little whimpers and gasps and the erotic wet sounds of his mouth feeding on her sweet flesh.

He imagined sliding a long finger up and down her folds as he tongued her clit, then smoothly sliding it deep into her. Imagining the feeling of her wet, silky walls clenching around him started to tip him over. He slipped the finger of his free hand into his own mouth, groaning around it. He thrust his hips, rutting into his own hand as he imagined feasting on her and steadily fucking his finger into her sweet, tight pussy. He imagined her gasping his name over and over and the excitement of unraveling her. 

The heady intoxication of being the one to turn her into a wanton, needy creature was one of the best feelings in the world. He loved the power of making a woman go out of her mind with pleasure. It was probably his biggest turn-on. Making her need him, beg for more, god, so fecking hot. As he fantasized about her arching and sobbing out words of need and affection, her walls seizing tight on his finger, Nick felt the clench of his own orgasm rolling through him. He groaned around his own finger, still sliding it in and out of his mouth. Finally, the pleasure peaked, Nick pulled his finger out and threw his head back. 

“Ah yes, bloody hell, FUCK!” he shot his load, coming so hard it almost hurt, lacing his belly and chest. 

In his mind, he imagined pulling her almost roughly off the chair to slide down into his lap, where he could cradle her. He imagined her petting and praising him, murmuring words of affection and adoration into his ear. He imagined stroking her damp, fevered skin as she came down, holding her tight, leaning back on the base of the chair. His mystery girl held fast in his arms, there on the floor of The Poe. The last waves of pleasure slowly ebbed, and Nick released himself to lie back, spent.

“That,” Nick muttered to himself, a bit amazed at both the depth of the fantasy and the pleasure it brought, “was fecking epic.” 

Once he’d caught his breath, he stumbled into the bathroom to clean off before crashing again onto his bed. He fumbled the covers up over himself and, after a while, felt the light weight of the kitten as he carefully found a spot in the crook of Nick’s arm to settle down. 

“Night, wee man,” he muttered before drifting off. The kitten purred until the little rumble stuttered out as he, too, slipped into sleep.

****

Bookish Babe: Hey, you up?

Bookish Babe: Totes ok if you’re not and see this later. No emergency.

Brit Lit: I’m up, Bookish, what’s wrong pet? Can’t sleep?

Bookish Babe: Nope. 😣

Brit Lit: Yah, same. Got a few hours in but got up to take a piss, and now the fecking hamster wheel won’t stop running. 🏃🏃🏃

Bookish Babe: #relatable

Brit Lit: You?

Bookish Babe: Ugh, just worrying over work, I guess. This big soiree’s testing the upper limits of my stress.

Brit Lit: Is this the first time you’ve had to do one?

Bookish Babe: no, we do one yearly, but this is my most significant role ever. I have a great team, thank god, but you know, nothing like that goes perfectly.

Brit Lit: Ta, you’ll get there. Just one bite of the old pachyderm at a time

Bookish Babe: LOL! Right-o old chap!

Brit Lit: No

Bookish Babe: Pip, pip! Stiff upper lip chappie!

Brit Lit: Chappie? Isn’t that a robot?

Bookish Babe: Good luck will rub off when I shake ‘ands with you!

Brit Lit: And now you’re a bloody chimney sweep

Bookish Babe: HAHAHAHAHA

Brit Lit: Sigh.

Bookish Babe: So what’s got you up?

Brit Lit: Honestly? It’s my friend.

Bookish Babe: ???

Brit Lit: So, I told you my best mate’s got this lovely lass now, right?

Bookish Babe: Yes, you said you were “so happy that the big slab of man found himself a woman who can square off with him.” Or something to that effect, I believe.

Brit Lit: and I AM! I just… Everything’s changed, you know? I guess I’m feeling a bit left out sometimes, is all.

Bookish Babe: I’m sorry, Brit, that must be tough. So, is there no one special in your life right now? Apologies if that’s too personal. Feel free to ignore it!

Brit Lit: No, no, it’s fine, pet. But no… no one special.

Bookish Babe: Sorry, Brit, it must be hard then, feeling like a third wheel. Maybe you need a GF or a BF?

Brit Lit: Eh, you know me, veeeery popular with the ladies. I like to stay free to play the field!

Bookish Babe: Easy there, Lothario 😂

Brit Lit: Heh, well ok, I may not be knocking them away with a stick like my mate was

Bookish Babe: Well, maybe knocking women with sticks is your first problem…

Brit Lit: Ta, maybe, but I do alright. It just feels a wee bit lonely lately. 

Bookish Babe: 🫂

Brit Lit: Right, don’t listen to me crying in my drink like a twat

Bookish Babe: Stop that. It’s ok to have a rough time and lean on a friend, especially at 3 AM

Bookish Babe: I mean, I’m the one who texted YOU in the early hours, if you’ll recall

Brit Lit: Right, thanks, Bookish, you’re stand up. 

Bookish Babe: Aw, appreciate you too, Brit. 

Brit Lit: you got a special lad yourself? Or lass?

Brit Lit: Same. If too personal, feel free to ignore. I like getting to know you better, but I understand the need for boundaries.

Bookish Babe: I know you do. You’ve always been super respectful. Parasocial relationships can be a minefield!

Brit Lit: I’m sure! Though, like to think we are more friends nowadays than a famous blogger and her crazed fan.

Bookish Babe: Dunno. You ARE rather crazed most of the time 😉 And I would say famous is a stretch.

Brit Lit: right and fair, I’m a nutter 😵‍ but you’re famous to me!

Bookish Babe: LOL, seriously though, yes, we are friends. And no, there’s no ‘Mr. Bookish’, LOL.

Brit Lit: Well I have a handsome man in MY life…

Bookish Babe: SOCRATES!! 🙌🏼

Brit Lit: SOCRATES!!! 🙌🏼

Bookish Babe: You need to send more pics soon!!! 😻

Brit Lit: I will. He’s so twee. So, what’s on your agenda tomorrow?

Bookish Babe: Well, the job madness… and I’ve got a new post I will finish editing tomorrow. It’s actually kind of a big deal for me. 

Brit Lit: Yeah? 

Bookish Babe: Um, yeah. It’s a bit more personal than I usually get. But I wanted to share it with my readers because it feels important. 

Brit Lit: Wow. Ok, feel alright about it?

Bookish Babe: I do… I’ll be interested in your thoughts. 

Brit Lit: I get alerts when you post. I’ll read it right off!

Bookish Babe: 🙂

Brit Lit: 😊

Bookish Babe: OK, friend, I think I should try to get some sleep. Thank you so much for chatting. I feel better

Brit Lit: Funny that, so do I. Night Bookish

Bookish Babe: Night Brit. 💚

Brit Lit: ❤️

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