“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re even prettier when you beg.” He gives me a finger in reward, slides it in and up and out and in, and I swallow a shout. “Even more when you’re dripping all over my hand.”
Yelling, then laughter, from the other side of the fence.
Nico looks up and around, collecting some more data while knuckle deep inside me. “Shit,” he reports. He pulls his hand out and licks his finger. “Fuck the romance. Fuck the crawfish.” He starts dragging me down the path. “Time to break your back, honey.”
We barely make it through the front door. We do not make it past the foyer.
Between the hot thrusts of tongues and groping, searching hands, Nico drags us down to our knees immediately after slamming the front door shut. He whips a hand under my thighs, manhandling my body to lay me on my back so he can rip my shorts and my panties down in one particularly aggressive drag.
“Shirt off,” he says, reaching back to pull off his own. “Shirt and bra off, Annie, then use those two favorite fingers of mine to spread those lips and show me where it hurts.”
I do as I’m told because I’m being so good, laying back and planting my feet and making a ‘v’ of my pointer and finger to spread myself where I’m aching.
“God, Annie, fuck,” he groans. “There she is,” he says, his eyes dragging the length of my body in reverence. “You are the most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” As if he can’t help it, he tugs the waistband of his boxers and those fucking athletic shorts that have been haunting my nightmares for days and hooks them right under his balls. I lose my mind at the image of him like this, of him looming above me on his knees and impossibly large in a leisurely, stroking hand.
Girl, you are so fucked. “Nico,” I wheeze out, grinding on emptiness. “Please.”
He plants a hand on the floor and leans down, licking the tops of my fingers on either side of my pussy, right on top of the spade, then the heart, his tongue just grazing where I need it most. He groans again. “I’ll give you anything you want if you beg for it like that.”
He spits on my clit, right at the apex of my fingers, and I shouldn’t like this as much as I do, even more so when he mutters, “mine,” before going to fucking town.
The first drag of his tongue is animalistic, a blistering slide that splits my flesh down the middle. An inhuman sound leavesmy throat, at this first oral contact in two years, somewhere between a screech and a gasp, and my hand flies to cover my mouth before Nico swats it away.
“Nuh uh,” he chastises. “Loud, Annie. I wanna hear how I’m making it better.”
Fine, then.
I receive a satisfied rumbling from deep in his chest. Both my hands immediately fly into his hair as he tosses both my legs over his shoulders. “Yes, baby,” he grits out in between wet laves and circles and sucks, “Grind that sweet pussy all over my face,” and I realize that my hips are moving on their own accord as I try to chase my third non-self induced orgasm in over two years.
“Fingers, please, Nico,” I gasp, needing that stretch, and he obliges with two that move right to the spot he’s already located with a scientist’s precision and rubs. Hard. “Oh, fuck,” I breathe, as the wave starts to build from the base of my spine. “Oh god. Nico. Here it—” I am interrupted by a brutal suck to my clit, then the wave swells and then crashes, exploding into a million pinpricks of confetti and white noise.
When I open my eyes, Nico is again looking down at me with that look in his face. The one of reverence, or awe, or maybe devotion.
And again, a sound tears out of me. It bubbles up from deep in my gut and bursts into the air, something between a laugh and a cry, too full of joy to be just one or the other.
He grins, kissing up my body, following a line of tattoos up—the tiger on my belly, the butterfly on my sternum, the hickey from earlier, then lays the side of his head against my chest, his ear against my heart, lays the full weight of his body on mine while I wrap my arms around his head and try to catch my breath.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Thank me later,” he says, then, “I’m just getting started.”
He hauls me up onto my feet, spears his hands through my hair and his tongue into my mouth, walking me backwards with slow steps towards what I assume is the kitchen. “Now,” he says in between kisses, “is a good time to tell me what you want for your first dicking down in two years.”
I have had two entire years to think about what I’ve been missing and one week to think about what I’ve been needing. I’ve also had five days and maybe nine months to learn to be completely honest with Nico. “I want it mean and fast and rough. I want you to spank me. Hard. Like,leave a big, red, Nico-sized handprinthard,” I ramble, shivering. “Sex for me has always been about conquering. But now I want to be conquered. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to make any decisions. I want to give up control. And I have the implant. I want you to come inside m—ah!”
Nico twists both my nipples at the same time with a hiss. “Oh god, baby,” he moans against my neck. “That’s so fuckin’ hot. I want that, too,” he’s nodding. “Need it. Need it. Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re so good. You’re perfect. Made for me.”
My heart does the explode-y thing again. “And I think I just discovered that I like being praised,” I whisper.
“Got that,” he croons. My butt finally hits the edge of a table. “My turn. I like a bit of teeth. I want those gorgeous fangs of yours,” he says, with a nip to my collarbone. “I want you to fuck up my back with your nails, Annie. I wanna toss you around.” He moves over to the hickey on my chest and kisses it. “And I think I just discovered that I like hearing you beg and I like marking you up. Inside and out. And I say that I just discovered that because I’ve never wanted that with anyone else in my life.”
Warm, glazed eyes meet my panicked ones. “We’ll unpack that later,” he whispers gently. “Yours too. ‘Cause it’s the same thing, I think. But is everything else okay?”
I blink. “Yes.”
A predatory smile, a lopsided grin. He turns me around. “I know what you need, honey. You want me to tell you exactly what to do,” he murmurs as he bends me over the table, “and then you want to do it well.”
I nod against the hard, solid surface now pressed against my face, whimpering and relaxing with relief at the same time. That he gets it. Because he obviously gets it.
