Page 89 of Locked in Wonderland

At that point, Nico seemed to remember he had hands. Or perhaps he’d simply run out of patience. “Death,” he said as he helped me out of the borrowed briefs, my hard cock springing free. “Which would you choose?”

I hesitated.

My mind flashed back to the terrible stillness of the exhibits in the gallery. Be forced to live like a statue for years, or have no life? It wasn’t a simple choice.

“I don’t know.”

“You’d choose the gallery,“ Nico said with complete certainty. “Everyone does. Never underestimate the human instinct to survive.“

“Maybe.“

“Are you going to ride me?”

“Yeah.”

Reaching beneath one of the sofa cushions, Nico produced lube and held it out.

“Convenient.“

“Finger yourself,“ he demanded.

Under different circumstances, I might have told him exactly what he could do with that suggestion. Given the size of his cock, however, I’d only be punishing myself.

Holding his gaze, I slicked my fingers and slid one between my cheeks. Heat flared in Nico’s eyes the moment I pushed it inside.

He watched without blinking, his stare hungry.

I worked myself open beneath his scrutiny, his order of “two” arriving before I would have reached that point on my own. Nevertheless, I obeyed, ignoring the slight sting of the added stretch.

When he finally knocked my hand aside and his fingers replaced mine, I didn’t protest. They felt larger, deeper, more demanding.

My eyes drifted closed as he found my prostate with infuriating ease.

“I thought about doing this,” he said conversationally, “the first time we met.”

“When?”

“When we were in the cafe.”

I sucked in a breath as his fingers curled.

“I thought about bending you over the table, pulling down your trousers, and using butter as lube. Right there in front of everyone.”

The scenario should have sounded ridiculous. Instead, it made my pulse race even more than it already was. “I would have begged for your cock.”

“You would have,” Nico agreed smoothly as he introduced the tip of a third finger. “We would’ve put on quite the show.”

The third finger slid home.

I tried—and failed—not to squirm. “They would have thrown us out.”

“After.” He managed to make the word sound like both a promise and a threat. “No one would’ve stopped me before I got what I wanted.”

There was a lot to unpack in that statement, and I knew I’d end up thinking about it later. Right now, I didn’t want explanations.

I wanted his cock.

And release.