I giggle (what the hell is happening to me?!) and give him what he needs, a bite right in the meaty part of his neck.
Nico gives up and gracefully deposits me on my hands and knees on what appears to be the fluffy area rug of the living room.
I look over at the kitchen. “We didn’t get very far.”
He rewards me with a sharp slap to the underside of my ass. He lies on his back next to me, his cock a hard, angry-looking leviathan. “Hop on, Annie. Ride it.”
I have to stop for a moment.
“What?”
“I’m calculating an improbable physics problem,” I say to his erect dick, “or maybe math.”
He laughs, tucking a hand behind his head with supreme arrogance. “It fits. Scientifically proven just a moment ago, in fact. Over there.” He points towards the kitchen.
“Displacement, volume, dimensions. Is this what they mean by abstract math?” I ramble. “There’s also something about gases or maybe liquids taking the shape of a container, or maybe filling the available space?”Is my pussy made of liquid? Feels like it.
The sound of Nico’s rich, booming laughter filling the available space of this room somehow feels better than the countless number of orgasms he’s given me. (Five—it’s five, not counting the ones I gave myself. Because I’ve lost count of those.)
I swing a leg over while he grips his shaft and angles it towards where I need it. I do not let myself adjust, just sink down as I watch Nico’s beautiful eyes fall shut and pretty mouth fall open to exhale a slow, extended, “Fuuuck.”
I get it, I really do, a whimper leaving my mouth at the sharp sting of the stretch. I plant my hands on his broad chest, leaning down and biting his mallard, that fleshy part of his pec.
His eyes fly open, blown with lust. “Fuck, baby. Does that fill you up nice and tight?” he slurs, bouncing me up and down withhis hips like I’m a rag-doll riding a mechanical bull. He grasps my hips and wrenches me back and forth while arching his hips up, and I lean back, a hand on his thigh, a foot on the floor next to his torso so he can hit it right…
Six is a slow rippling, like a pebble falling into water, concentric circles of tingles out my arms and legs.
“Shit,” Nico says, all arrogance gone, a wild look now in his eyes, his jaw clenched and fingers digging into my hips so hard I know they’ll leave marks. I want them to leave marks. I want them all over my body, scattered throughout my tattoos. A twisted collection. Gotta catch ‘em all.
His chest is crisscrossed with raised red lines from my nails. The smug satisfaction that bursts through my body is entirely unexpected.
“My turn,” Nico is saying, and somehow I’m spinning or falling or turning and I’m on my back. “Spread those legs and let me finish rough,” he grinds out in between deep, merciless, dirty drives that make the rug burn my back and leave me gasping for air. He moves my legs open, knees up, leg over, a container, a vessel, for him to fill and use and take the shape of. Grunts and moans and wet, lewd slapping now fill the space around us, a chorus of lust and sexual tension getting fucking resolved.
I’ve never had it this good.
“Beg me,” Nico orders, handsome face in a snarl, “beg for it, Annie,” and I’m being good for him, so I do.
I rake my nails across his shoulders. “Fill me up, Nico. Please.”
His hips piston, then stutter, and with a needy, filthy groan, he does.
Something flashes in his eyes when he watches himself leak out of me like a pervert, but he silently closes my legs and carries me to a bedroom, which turns out to be up a flight of stairs. He doesn’t let me clean up, muttering something about unsound UTI research and wanting me full of him all night. He lays me down under the covers with tenderness before climbing in himself.
“Nico,” I mumble, already half gone.
“Yes, honey.”
I yawn. “That was the best sex of my life. I don’t hate you anymore. And I think I hate cuddling you.”
He smiles, turning me and tucking my back against his chest, winding his legs through mine.
Through the blanket of sleep already weighing me down, I hear, “That was the best sex of my life. I love cuddling you. And I hate you, Annie Li.”
TWENTY-TWO
Nico
In the morning light,My Annie Li sleeps like a rock, as if she’d spent her night slaying her enemies and drinking their blood.
