Page 63 of The Cost of Silence

“Spread your legs for me again.”

The way he says it, calm, certain, as if obedience is assumed, makes heat curl deep in my stomach. I do it before I even register moving, and his breath thickens.

“Good girl.”

The praise hits me like a hand closing around my spine. My entire body arches, craving more.

He reaches out, trailing two fingers along the inside of my knee. Barely a touch, just enough to make my breath catch.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs. “Still flushed from me. Still shaking because of me.” His gaze lifts. “I’m going to ruin you tonight. In the best way.”

My breath stutters.

He smiles, dark, slow, hungry.

“But I’m not rushing,” he continues, voice dropping. “I want to feel every second. I want to watch your face when I push you past every limit you think you have.” His hand glides up my thigh, stopping just shy of where I’m desperate for it. “I want you begging in my bed.”

My thighs tremble.

He leans in and kisses me, hot, deep, slow enough to tease but firm enough to steal the air out of my lungs. His tongue strokes mine with deliberate dominance, and it makes my toes curl.

I feel drugged by him.

He pulls back just a fraction, his breath brushing my lips. “Lie back,” he orders softly. “I’m not done with you.”

I sink into the pillows, heart hammering.

He steps back only long enough to grab a condom and rolls it down his length, each movement unhurried, confident, like he knows I can’t look away. And he’s right. I can’t. Every line of him steals my breath. Every shadow, every flex of muscle.

He prowls toward the bed, gaze locked on mine, heat rolling off him in waves.

And when he climbs onto the mattress, bracing himself over me, his voice is a dark promise.

“Now,” he murmurs, lips brushing my throat, “I’m going to make you feel everything.”

The world narrows to his hands, his mouth, the sound of his breath against my skin.

And then I feel the head of his cock at my entrance. He doesn’t wait or hesitate; he just thrusts inside me to the hilt. Air leaves my lungs at the delicious intrusion; a loud moan is dragged from somewhere deep inside me.

Nico is big, I feel so full, stretched, the bite of pain only adding to this incredible feeling.

“Nico. Oh, fuck.” His name barely leaves me before everything inside me tightens around him, my breath tearing out in a shaky gasp. He groans, a low, rough sound against my throat as his forehead drops to my shoulder, his mouth dragging heat across my skin, before his lips close around my nipple. His tongue laves at me before he kisses across my chest and does the same on the other side. My hips roll as he slowly starts to pulse his hips into me, fucking me slowly, torturously.

“Fuck, sweetheart… you’re so damn tight.” His voice is wrecked, breathless. Each word vibrates against the sensitive place beneath my ear, and a shiver ripples straight through me.

He kisses his way down, slow and hungry, until his lips close around my nipple again. The suction pulls a desperate sound from my chest. My fingers curl in his hair, hips liftinginstinctively as he moves inside me, deep, steady, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of every inch.

His hand cups my breast, thumb toying with my sensitive nipple and I groan, shifting beneath him. Wanting more, needing him to fuck me until I can’t think.

“Am I hurting you?”

His fingers skate over my bruise-mottled ribs and I feel nothing but pleasure when he touches me. “No.”

“You sure?”

This dangerous, powerful man, who makes people quake at the sound of his name, is so gentle with me that it makes tears prick my eyes.

“I’m sure,” I breathe, cupping his jaw. “Don’t stop.”