AllFreeNovel
Share Us
JEWEL
The contrast of fucking me to oblivion and then treating me with such tenderness could give a girl whiplash. After manhandling me like I was his personal toy, Nicu was unbelievably tender. But I’d be lying if I said his assiduous care wasn’t exactly what I needed. Normally, I was a morning person, but apparently a good spanking followed by incredible sex and a full-body massage could reduce me to a puddle of goo, even at this early hour.
His fingers gently tested the heated skin of my buttocks as I lay splayed across his bed, limp from the inundation of pleasure. It was another example of the juxtaposition I was beginning to get used to experiencing with this complicated man. The hard and the soft, he had them both in spades. Anyone who took Nicu at face value, as a single-minded made man who only cared about following directions and enforcing rules, woefully missed an entire part of who he was.
Caressing my behind with feather-like touches, he spoke softly, “You took your spanking so well. Now I will reward you.”
My breath stuttered in my lungs, goose bumps breaking out on my skin at the raspy, guttural tone and the implication of those words. Who knew a spanking could be so cathartic? I felt as if all my problems had melted away. Even my father’s denied parole, the cause of so much angst for me, seemed far away, as if I were reading a novel about someone else’s experience.
I shifted beneath his touch to shake away my visceral reaction and covered it up by joking, “Besides fucking me to oblivion and then massaging my butt, you mean?”
“Well, I plan to feed you,” he revealed.
“What, feed me your cock for breakfast?” I quipped. “You can’t possibly know how to cook, being a traditional mafie guy?”
His grip tightened on my butt cheek. “Careful with that mouth of yours…could get you into trouble,” he cautioned. Returning to rubbing the red imprint of his fingers on my flesh, he made a scoffing sound. “My bunica and my mother brought me up right. Of course, I can cook.”
“I’ll believe it when I taste it,” I retorted.
He gave me a light pop on my flank that made me yelp.
“Ye of little faith, I’ll show you,” he replied. “I have plans for you today. After I make sure your appetite has been satisfied, I’m going to wash you down in the shower. Once you’re nice and clean, I’ll introduce you to your real reward.”
“Oh, the plot thickens,” I observed languidly.
Getting a home-cooked meal—if he could really cook—and showering together, seemed like reward enough to me. I didn’t need him to give me a gift. Typically, guys with money liked giving gifts of jewelry, but it wasn’t particularly interesting to me, considering I grew up with all my material needs met. My emotional needs were the real challenge. If he thought I’d go gaga over a pretty ring or watch, he was about to be sorely disappointed. Yet I caught the gleam in his eyes, and because he was taking care of me oh-so-well, and because I didn’t want to rain on his parade, I decided to play nice. Considering he’d elicited the most intense orgasm I’d experienced to date, he’d proven himself worthy of cooperation.
Pulling me to my feet, he wrapped me in an emerald-green jacquard robe, which was permeated with his distinctive woodsy, masculine essence. He tied the belt around me firmly, his brows pinched in concentration. It was adorable, the way he took care of me so seriously. The silk of the robe rubbed against my peaked nipples. Yes, I was the little slut he’d labeled me earlier because, apparently, all the man had to do was wrap me in an item of his clothing, and I was squirming with the desire to be filled by him, yet again.
After donning a pair of pajamas, he took my hand and led me out into the living room. The sunlight flooding in through the wall of windows attacked my eyeballs. With a groan, I slapped my free hand over my eyes.
With a deep chortle that slid down my spine, he suggested, “Let’s get something for that hangover, shall we?”
Placing his palm on my lower back, he steadied me as he guided me into the kitchen. The room fit the modern edge of the rest of the apartment, accented with rural-looking painted utensils and art naïf decorative plates on the wall. He sat me down at a rustic kitchen table, where I laid my forehead face down on my arms to escape the ruthlessly cheerful sunlight.
I listened to gently opened drawers and other noises he made as he puttered about the kitchen. Moments later, I heard a soft plunk near my head. I peeked out from between the fingers covering my eyes. There was a tall glass of water and what I assumed were ibuprofen pills beside me. I swallowed the pills and greedily drained the water.
“Sheesh, I guess I was thirsty after a night of debauchery,” I noted.
“I’ve had a few of those myself,” he shared as he carefully placed a well-loved, chipped red-enamel pot with a long handle, which I knew from visiting Cat was called an ibric, on the stove and set about making Turkish coffee. I hadn’t expected to see him using such a worn pot, considering he lived in the lap of luxury.
“You?” I looked at him doubtfully. “You always seem so in control.”
Stirring the pot filled with water and coffee grounds, he gave me what I now recognized as a little self-deprecating shrug. “Now, I am. It took me a few years to learn how best to harness my excessive…energy.”
Funny, I couldn’t picture him getting trashed despite the untamed quality so evident beneath his cool exterior. “Oh, and how did you manage it?”
He gave me a devilish, unrepentant look.
“You’ve seen how I fuck,” he replied simply.
A spray of water spewed out of my mouth. I grabbed the dish towel he handed me, wiped my mouth, and dabbed at the water soaking his silk robe. He laughed deeply, the rumbling sound emanating from his chest. My toes curled. Nicu chuckled often enough, but it was a rare privilege to hear his deep, throaty laugh. I could get addicted to this man, and not only because of the way he took care of me in bed. Far from it. I was learning that Nicu was complex.
His phone on the counter beeped. Picking it up, he read through his text and rumbled, “Fucking Tatum. Texting me this early in the morning. It’s even earlier there.”
“Where is there?”
“Cali. He’s in a rage, and that never happens. Let me reply, baby,” he mumbled, texting back and forth as he watched over the brewing coffee. I was riveted by the adorable expression of concentration on his face as he focused on his phone.
