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I am comfortable with someone I barely know and feel a connection and longing to know her, and that’s a place I've never been with anyone. There is a difference between fucking to get off and fucking to connect, and this is us trying to connect.
Where will we fucking go after here? Because it can never be the same.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EMELIA
His eyes payclose attention to my breasts and the mark on my ribs. It’s almost like that’s where his pleasure is focused instead of the soft rising and falling of me on his cock. Tonight, we turned over a leaf, called a truce, agreed to stop being enemies and give this marriage a fighting chance. All this pent-up lust and even more pent-up anger unraveled, and we couldn’t do it anymore.
There was a softness—dare I say a weakness—in Nico as he let me in tonight. I would never admit that in detail to anyone, especially him, because I fear it would shut him down, or worse, put us back at odds. Nico has to move at his own pace, to exist in a world where he feels he can be himself without others seeing a weakness in him. For me though, this vulnerability is his most powerful strength.
I need more.
I pick up the pace and brace myself for the orgasm I’m going to have. Because this angle and the man are both too much for me to wait any longer. What he did with the gun… that was—well, that was intense and raw and sensual. The way I know that gun will, in fact, protect me in our world—and protect even more so the man behind it—added a new level of sexual intimacy.
Then he brought up Damian and how that made him feel—
“Come back to me, principessa,” Nico pulls me from my wandering thoughts, and I catch the way he admires me.
“Sorry, I just…. It feels good, and I don’t want to leave this space. It’s safe. It’s like nothing I’ve had before,” I admit, and he sits up, sliding his hands under my arms, up my back, and into my hair so he can bring me in for a kiss. We don’t need the words right now. We just need to feel. And feel, we do.
The room fills with moans, groans, and heavy breathing, and we fuck hard and with ferocity, trying to see who can claim their orgasm first. Who can claim one another more. Our foreheads touch between messy kisses. The longer we go at one another, the less coordinated it gets and the more freeing it becomes. We just want to get as close as possible. Touch each part of one another all at once.
We crawl underneath each other’s skin, and together, we orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Emelia!” he groans out with each pump of his hips.
“Yes!” My voice is raspy and breathy after all the yelling and moaning.
“Take every drop, Emelia.” With choppy but hard thrusts, he pours into me, and I kiss his forehead, letting him take what he needs in this moment. The calm will come, and I just hope this will be the same man.
Will I be met with a new outlook on us, a new version of Nico, or will he be the old, callous, and cold man I married? Will it always just be sex for us?
I’m unable to tell right away, because I fall asleep within seconds of him laying me down. His phone rang when the dust settled, and he kissed me gently and said he had to take it. I nodded, and once I snuggled down onto that surprising comfortable couch, I was out, the adrenaline of the night and the passion we shared exhausting me.
I'm woken up what I assume isn’t much later, but we’re home, and I’m being placed in bed. How did he carry me here? I look up at Nico’s profile as he pulls the blankets up and fixes my pillow, and I smile at the sight. He’s still being soft.
“Nico?”
“Shh, baby, you have to sleep, and I still have work to do. I will be to bed soon. Rest.”
I want to argue for him to stay, but the truth is I’m exhausted. Looking down, I see I’m in one of his dress shirts. Did he dress me? How did I fit in one of his shirts? He's muscular and built with a large frame, but how did I fit? Oh, whatever. I'm too tired to play riddle me this.
And once I shut my brain off, I fall into slumber, the night carrying me away.
* * *
The morning suncomes through like it does every morning, but this time, there is a heat I haven’t felt before. A wall of warmth, muscle, and strength.
He stayed.
Nico has been gone before I’ve woken every morning and comes home after I've fallen asleep for a while now. But this morning, he’s here. I turn my head slightly and see his hair is a mess from what I'm sure was good sleep. When was the last time he went to bed at a decent hour and slept in?
“I thought I was the only serial killer in this marriage.” Nico’s voice is hoarse and deep, and my core tightens. God, he sounds sexy.
“What?” I laugh.
“You're watching me sleep. That's a very serial killer thing of you to do, my wife.”
