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Nico drove us right out of the city and along the route that led us to the familiar woodland fairy tale. When he pulled into the long, winding drive to his home, I was thrown for a loop.
“You’ll see,” he said, getting out of the car before I could probe him with questions.
He came around to open my door and led me up the front steps without a word.
The moment I stepped inside, I froze.
The interior was covered in blacks, golds, and vivid reds. The colors blanketed the floor and hung from tapestries on the walls. Bloodred roses and a gold candelabra stood on the dining table, its flames casting a warm glow across the main floor. There was even a bloodred fainting couch in the place where his sage green sofa had once been, and more roses on the now-black coffee table in front of it.
Holy crap.
The décor, the dress, even the classical music playing quietly from the speakers on the wall—Nico had set the stage for the most erotic fantasy I could imagine.
“How did you…?”
He shrugged. “It’s amazing what you can accomplish with a few well-placed phone calls.”
I couldn’t imagine the number of people it would have taken to pull this off, and I knew how he felt about that.
I turned to him and leaned up, pressing my body against his as he lowered his lips to mine. The kiss was languid on the surface, but beneath it, I could feel the sparks and the exquisite tension that mounted with each passing second.
“It’s perfect,” I said when he leaned away.
He smiled, and his heated gaze traveled over me from head to toe. “I agree.”
Without another word, he took my hand in his and led me through the decadent lair to the dining table where he poured two glasses of red wine.
I took a sip, but already every part of me seemed hyperaware. The cool rim of the glass against my lips; the bead of condensation that slipped from the glass and spilled over my fingers, the explosion of flamboyant tartness on my tongue, the lingering sweetness on my lips.
I licked it off, and Nico groaned. The sound rippled through me, making my nipples tighten and my breath come faster.
He placed his own wineglass down and moved behind me while I took another fortifying sip.
“You look like you were made to be devoured,” he whispered against my ear.
The blood in my veins set off at a fast pace as his lips and teeth caressed my ear. I felt very much like Bella Swan when his mouth moved lower, kissing and nipping down my neck.
I couldn’t move.
I could barely breathe.
When his hands took hold of my hips and drew me back against him, I thought I might just combust. The heat of his body, the hard planes, the thick erection pressed against my lower back.
His fingers found the zipper at the back of my dress as he suckled his way back up my neck. He inched the zipper down slowly, keeping his body pressed close to mine until he reached the bottom and leaned back, letting the dress pool at my feet.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my senses, searching for the feel of his heated gaze on me. I’d dressed for this—lacy black bra and thong, and thigh-high stockings—imagining him looking at me just like this.
“Fuck me,” he breathed as my skin tingled everywhere his gaze touched—the lacy black bra that cupped my breasts, the thong that sheathed my hot core, its thin garter slitted between my wet folds, the thigh-high stockings that hugged my moist inner thighs.
“Yes, please,” I whispered back.
The fire burning in me was ablaze. Suddenly, it felt like the temperature had been turned up. I felt empty, and I needed to be filled. I neededhimburied inside me.
He chuckled, his breath brushing across the dampened flesh he’d been kissing. “In a hurry?”
I nodded, shivering in anticipation.
“Well, I’m not.” He nipped my earlobe then stepped back.
