Page 78 of Spring Break Fling

“Do you think Marcus will have a change of heart?” I asked.

He scoffed. “No. There’s too much drama. She made sure to leave her mark.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. It’s over. I don’t want to talk about my ex. She’s just, well, she’s her.”

“Will she be back?”

“I don’t know. That scare you off?” he asked.

“Samantha? No. I don’t live here. If she wants to come to Boise, whatever.”

He finished his drink and put down the glass. A second later, he grabbed my glass and put it down next to his. Then his lips were on mine, urgent and searching, like he was trying to drown out the world in this one moment. I melted into him.

He pulled me closer. We stumbled backward, bumping into walls and laughing between kisses, and before I knew it, we were in his bedroom.

I knew exactly what this was: a distraction. Nikko was hurting. He lost the one thing in his life that was truly important to him. He wanted to lose himself in me, and selfishly, I wanted to be the person he turned to. I wanted to be his escape, even if it was temporary. Even if he had all kinds of drama coming back to haunt him.

I tugged at his hoodie, pushing it up until he jerked it over his head. His skin was warm beneath my hands, muscles shifting as he moved. I traced the line of an old scar near his shoulder, knowing there was a story behind it but not wanting to break the moment by asking. He pulled my shirt over my head in one fluid motion, his fingers trailing across my skin.

He quickly undid my bra and pulled it away. “Damn, I love these tits.”

He bent down and sucked one nipple into his mouth while his thumb and finger played with the other one. My breath caught in my throat as he lavished attention on my breasts, his touch both rough and tender. Every nibble sent shivers down my spine.

I threaded my fingers through his hair, urging him closer. He growled low in his throat, a primal sound that made my inner muscles clench with want. His hands moved lower, fingers tracing the waistband of my jeans, playing at the button.

“Off,” he muttered against my skin. “Now.”

I didn’t hesitate, pushing my jeans and underwear down in one quick motion. He watched me, eyes dark with desire, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. When I was bare before him, he made a low appreciative sound.

“Turn over,” he said. It wasn’t a request.

I knew this was about more than just sex. For Nikko, this was about control. About reclaiming something after losing everything. I turned over slowly, feeling the cool sheets against my flushed skin. His hand traced my spine, fingers pressing into my lower back.

His touch was firm, commanding. His life might be a mess but he was in total control of his body—and mine. It was like he cast a spell on me, bending me to his every whim and lighting my body on fire.

The bed shifted as he pushed my legs open. One hand slid between my legs, testing, exploring, making me ache.

“You’re wet,” he said, voice low and rough. Eager.

I bit my lip and pushed back against his hand, a wordless invitation. He didn’t make me wait. His fingers slid inside me. Two fingers, then three, stretching me, filling me. He moved slowly at first, building a rhythm that made my breath catch. His thumb pressed against my clit, making sparks dance behind my eyes.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel incredible.”

I arched my back, pushing against his hand, wanting more. He obliged, fingers moving faster, harder. The tension built inside me, coiling tight and hot. When he curled his fingers just so, I cried out. The sound was sharp and desperate.

He didn’t stop. His other hand pressed against my lower back, holding me in place as pleasure pulsed through me. I was trembling, overwhelmed, right on the edge of something intense.

“Nikko,” I gasped. “I’m going to⁠—”

And then I was. Crying out, muscles clenching around his fingers. I moaned into the mattress as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

He moved away and opened the nightstand drawer.

I stopped him. “Not yet,” I said when he reached for a condom.

“Baby, this is not one of those things we wait for.”