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The silence stretches between us as our gazes lock in wordless dialogue. She wants me against her better judgment. I, on the other hand, shouldn’t even be here. And neither should she, for that matter, had I gone with the initial plan. But none of that holds water against the desire beating down on us.
Eventually, her lids flutter closed, and she whispers, “Should I be afraid, Nico?”
“Hell, yes.” My words are barely out before I weave my fingers through her hair and crush my lips to hers.
Chapter Eight
Sophie
Nico’s kiss doesn't come as a surprise; after all, he’s been giving me heated looks and acting like I’ve been doing a slow striptease for him from the moment we got off the plane.
The way he kisses doesn’t surprise me either. It's hard and dominant. Like he was born and trained to do it.
It’s the way I’m reacting to it that throws me, kissing him back with a fervor that shocks me. I would blame it on being in the Druid’s Clubhouse, a place that somehow drains you of all your inhibitions. Or perhaps it’s the fact that Nico is kissing me like he wants to devour me, his tongue boldly tangling with mine in a rhythm that’s too tantalizing not to follow.
He tastes good. Wild. Mint and something sweet, like caramel. It’s a blend I don’t think I’ll ever forget. It feels like it’s already branding itself into my senses.
I push my fingers into his hair, loving the way the silky strands slip through my fingers so much that I start to pull. He groans, then deepens the kiss, pinning me to the wall with his pelvis and wrapping his hands around my jaw to hold me steady while his tongue repeatedly fucks my mouth.
I moan in pleasure and surrender, my drenched core starting to ache. I can’t resist grinding on his rock-hard length—and dear God, it is a lot of length—as it pulses against my lower belly. Without thinking, I hook my leg around him, sighing when his erection hits me square between my denim-covered thighs. I don’t realize how much I’m writhing against him until he tears his mouth away from me and curses.
“Christ, Sophie, you’re so fucking greedy.”
The way he says it drives my arousal to new insane heights, and if anything, makes me writhe against him more. My skin feels too hot, and the insistent ache between my legs is getting unbearable. I need to come, badly.
He licks a path down my neck while his big palm slides lower to cup my breast. He gently sinks his teeth into the junction between my neck and shoulder, at the same time pinching my hard nipple, shooting a bolt of pleasure straight to my clit.
“Ahh, Nico!” I moan.
He does it again, and apparently, that’s all the trigger I need to go stark-raving mad. It’s starting to feel like I would die if he doesn’t make me come in the next few seconds. It’s been way too long since I’ve been with a man. Six fucking months. That must be the reason Nico feels so indescribably good.
And then I stop thinking altogether when he bites me again, this time pushing my neckline and bra cup aside to palm my breast in his calloused palm, pulling on my taut nipple.
“Oh my God,” I moan brokenly, curling my leg higher over his thigh and grinding my clit against him, blindly seeking relief. “Nico, please.”
Suddenly, Nico hoists me up against him like I weigh practically nothing, and the next thing I know, I’m flat on the bed. Then like a mind reader, Nico Vitelli gives me exactly what I’ve been craving—a fully clothed orgasm.
He takes both my wrists in one of his, trapping them high above my head. Then he holds my thigh open with his other hand, fuses his lips to mine then starts to grind me to within an inch of my life.
He hovers over me, big and strong, his hips nailing me to the bed with the singular focus of sending electric shocks of pleasure rippling out from my pelvis. His smell in my nostrils, his tongue in my mouth, and his heat, oh God, his delicious heat surrounding me, heightens the sensation in my clenching pussy. It makes it all the more intimate because every snap of his hips tells me he’s doing this just for me.
He wants to get me off, nothing else.
Goosebumps cover my entire body, and I’m moaning and mumbling into his mouth. Still, he doesn’t stop, not even when my thighs start to shake. If he’d let me go, he would have heard me begging him to fuck me, but no, he grinds his length against my clit with perfect precision until my vision turns white, and I go rigid with pleasure.
When he feels me convulsing, he rears back. It’s like he wants to see me unravel, hear me cry out. And I give it to him, helplessly. I don’t even have enough working brain cells to be embarrassed that it’s his name I’m calling out. It’s too much, it’s insane, it’s mortifying, but it’s exactly what I need.
When the fog clears from my vision, I find scorching blue eyes watching me. He’s still pressed against me, hot and hard as steel. My face flushes.
One fucking kiss, and I went berserk on a man, begging him to make me come. A client, too.
Oh shit.
He sees the moment panic seeps into my eyes because he gives me a smirk, “Fiammetta, it’s fine, trust me. Don’t overthink it. It was just a quick orgasm, nothing more.”
I huff out a breath. He says it like we only had a handshake. And I don’t know about ‘quick’ since I lost all sense of time and space back there, but it was hands down the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time. Other than that, yeah, no big deal.
He stands, then pulls me up with him and carefully readjusts my top. “Come on, it’s going to be a rough day. Rafe is already here.”
