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“Oh, we’ll see about that,” he says, and yanks down my cutoffs and underwear, sliding it off my ankles while still holding me up with one hand on my throat and his body pressing against mine.
He shifts and unbuckles his slacks, letting them fall to the floor, and he’s not wearing underwear.
I gasp when he slides up into me, gasp out his name.
“That’s right,principessa,” he commands. “Tell me who’s fucking you this good. Not fucking Alberto.”
“Nico,” I gasp. “Just you, Nico.”
He grunts and thrusts into me harder, sliding my ass up against the wall. I choke out another moan, coming around him, and he thrusts into me harder and harder through my orgasm.
His fingers close around my throat, not quite cutting off my air but close, and I come again as he thrusts into me again and again.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands again, and I look up at him, into his eyes.
“I’m yours,” I gasp, my head spinning from lust. “I’ve always been yours, Nico.”
Nico cries out my name when he spills inside me and slowly lowers me to the floor.
“Aurora,” he says, releasing my throat and kissing along my neck, but I push him away, hard. He stumbles backward and I lean down to grab my shorts, stalking to the guest room and slamming and locking the door.
I’m already curled into bed when he knocks on the door.
“Aurora,” he says. And then, several minutes later. “Principessa.”
I don’t say a word, just bury my head under the pillow and cry myself to sleep.
The next morning, I wake early and walk into the living room. Nico’s passed out on the couch with a bottle of whiskey between his legs and an empty glass on the coffee table.
I don’t wake him, just going out to the pool and putting my feet in the water, thinking. I know what I have to do now, but I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to break things off with Nico, but I don’t know how else to do this.
I can’t just stay with him all this time, loving him, wanting him. Not when he doesn’t feel the same way about me.
I have to make a change, even if it’s the last thing I want to do.
20
NICO
Iwake up again with a violent hangover and hate myself for drinking so much. I hate myself for what I said to Aurora, too, how roughly I made love to her. She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, but it was like I was possessed. I’d felt like I needed toownher, like I needed to show everyone how she's mine.
She’s carrying my baby, for god’s sake, how can she not be mine?
So, there’s this part of me that feels like she is, that doesn’t want another man touching her, but there’s this part of me that wants to go back to my old life. That wants to go back to fucking three women a week, to not knowing any of their names the next week.
That’s the life I’ve always lived. My safe life. A life without risk. Without hurt. And I can’t imagine living any other way.
Or, rather, Icouldn’t. Now I can easily imagine living with a beautiful woman who smiles at me, her hair mussed from sex first thing in the morning. That’s the problem. Now I know there’s another way, but I don’t know how to move forward and I don’t know how to go back.
I hear someone banging around in the kitchen and can’t believe that Aurora is up and making breakfast.
“Do you want sausage or bacon?” she asks, and I think she’s been cooking a lot for someone who told me she doesn’t know how to very well.
“Neither,” I say. “Just toast.”
“You can make that yourself,” she says flatly, and makes her own plate, sitting down at the dining room table.
“Listen, Aurora,” I start, but she doesn’t even look at me.
