His hips shifted, shallow and controlled. His thumb brushed my cheek. The tendons in his neck stood out, and his fingers tightened in my hair without pulling.
I pulled off him with a wet sound and stroked him in my hand.
His chest rose hard.
“If you say something noble right now,” I said, “I’m throwing you out.”
“I was going to say I need to be inside you.”
I smiled. “That’s not noble.”
“No.”
“That’s useful.”
Nico moved fast then, but not rough. He pushed me back on the bed, covered me with all that warm, heavy strength, and kissed me like he needed to taste himself on my mouth. I wrapped my legs around his hips and felt him against me, thick and hot, the blunt head of his cock sliding through the wetness he’d put there.
I dug my nails into his shoulders. “Now.”
He held himself at my entrance. “Tell me again.”
“I want you inside me.”
His forehead dropped to mine.
Then he pushed in.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
I felt every inch.
I stopped breathing halfway through, and Nico stopped moving the second my body tightened.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“I’m deciding whether to thank you or yell at you.”
His lips brushed mine. “Both sound like you.”
“Move, Nico.”
He did.
The rest of him slid into me with a stretch that stole the room out from under me. My fingers dug into his back. His breath hit my cheek, rough and controlled, while my body clenched around him.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then I lifted my hips.
His control slipped just enough to make the bed creak.
Very good.
Nico fucked me like he’d listened to every argument I’d ever made and decided to answer with his body. Deep, steady, careful until I told him not to be. I met him every time, my nails on his back, my ankles locked behind him, my mouth finding his shoulder, his jaw, the place where his pulse jumped under my lips.
His chain slid between us, cool against my breasts. His hips drove mine into the mattress. The apartment filled with the sound of skin, breath, and Nico’s voice rough against my mouth.
