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“You haven’t seen anything yet.” My tongue dives across that slick heat and her head falls back, a moan replacing the laughter from a second ago. “Mmm, I was right.”
I drag my tongue through her wet folds, relishing in her exquisite taste, the sweetest summer cherries. Her pussy tightens around my tongue, sucking me in. I devour every inch of her, circling her clit then plunging my tongue deep inside her. I’m completely ravenous, mad with desire. I’ve never wanted to claim anyone more than this woman.
“I’m going to lay claim on every delicious inch of you, little fox.”
She wriggles beneath me, hips bucking with each stroke of my tongue. Her hands find my hair and that touch only magnifies my arousal. She tugs at the roots, moving her way to the tie that keeps my long hair neatly tethered. She rips it off, unchaining all my control along with it as the dark tendrils fall across my face.
My hands move around to cup her ass, driving that sweetness into my face. She gasps as my fingers dig into her backside. The monster I strive so hard to keep buried surges to the surface. I drag my teeth across her sensitive flesh, and she lets out a cry. Then I drive two fingers inside her, and she squeals, tensing beneath me as she pulls my hair. “Nico!” Unshed tears glisten in her eyes. The monster craves pain, desires darkness.
This woman is nothing but light.
I want to drag her into the depths of my depravity, to ruin her…
Fuck.
I draw in a deep breath and chain the beast, forcing him down to the dark recesses of my fucked-up psyche. Merda. I will not ruin her. For the first time in my life, I don’t want to.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble against her, slowly withdrawing my fingers. I gently run my tongue across her center, soothing the sensitive flesh. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “Just be more gentle.”
Gentle? Ha. I barely repress the wild laugh. I don’t know how to do gentle. I don’t know how to make love. I can fuck and claim and bring women to their knees. But this? I’m fucking lost.
“Like this.” She runs her fingers through my hair, sweeping the wild tangles behind my ears. Then her hand cups my cheek, and she draws her soft thumb across the prickly stubble. “And this.”
My eyes find hers, and my black, battered heart staggers on a beat. Those walls I’ve forged so desperately for so many years start to crumble. Shit. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
I drop my head between her thighs, ripping free of her hopeful gaze. Because the loathing I could stand, but that look, that glimmer in her eyes is enough to break me.
CHAPTER 19
HE’S BACK
Maisy
My lids flutter open, a ray of early morning sunlight seeping through the curtains. A delicious soreness vibrates through the muscles in my lower half. Despite the sting, I feel more rested than I have in weeks. Rolling over, I focus my bleary eyes on the Roman god sprawled on the chair beside my bed. And that’s the reason why. Nico is shirtless and asleep, the first time I’ve ever caught him in such a vulnerable position.
With those piercing blue eyes closed, he’s much less intimidating even with that scar across his upper lip. And possibly more gorgeous. The harsh lines that generally cut across his handsome face have vanished, replaced by a softness I’ve never seen before.
My heart lets out an embarrassing stutter as I take him in. Nico wasn’t wrong last night. I am a liar. I’ve been lying to myself for a while now. I want this man, despite knowing how wrong that is, and yesterday evening was proof. My body has never lit up for anyone like that before. Four orgasms in one night are a world record for me.
And he wasn’t even done. After he’d spent hours with his face buried between my thighs, coaxing out orgasm after orgasm, he went downstairs for some water and came back for more. I was so spent I’d fallen asleep while he was gone.
He’d attempted to wake me for another round, but muscles I didn’t even know I had down there were so sore I didn’t think I’d survive anything more. I already couldn’t walk because of my ankle, I didn’t need to make it worse with a sore cooter.
Speaking of, I really have to pee.
I push myself off the bed, moving silently so as not to wake the slumbering beast. I am not ready to face him, to discuss what happened last night and what it meant. Because I was so not going there. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
In the light of day, everything seems more real, so much more terrifying. I tell myself it was a one-time thing to ease away the guilt, and I plan to keep it that way. One wine-fueled night of incredibly bad judgement and unbelievable orgasms.
As I hobble to the bathroom, I can’t keep my eyes away from Nico’s perfect form. To the swathes of black ink that paint the hard planes of his body and transform it into a brutally beautiful work of art.
I round the chair and catch a glimpse of puckered flesh on his shoulder. Pausing, I inch closer and examine the patch of angry red skin between the tattoos. A scar. A bad one by the look of it. It expands across his shoulder disappearing down his back, but I can’t make out anything more because it’s hidden by the high-backed chair he leans against.
What happened to you, Nico?
My countless therapy appointments with Dr. Winchester surge to the surface. What terrible trauma had shaped this brutal mobster?
