Her eyes lock onto mine. Wild. Desperate. She's biting her bottom lip.
"Don't hold back." I thrust harder. "Let me hear you."
The moan that escapes her is filthy. Loud. Nothing like the careful, controlled sounds she made when we first started this. She's learning that her pleasure belongs to her. That she can take what she wants.
I watch her work herself with the toy, adjusting the angle, finding her rhythm. Her free hand grips the edge of the island.
"You're so fucking beautiful." The words come out rough. Wrecked. "You have any idea what you do to me?"
She laughs. "I have some idea."
I shift my angle, driving deeper, and she cries out. The vibrator slips in her grip and I catch her wrist, guiding it back.
"Don't stop." A command. "I want to feel you come on my cock while you play with yourself."
"Nico, I'm—" Her hips buck against mine. "It's too much."
"It's not." I kiss her hard. "You can take it. You can take everything I give you."
The tension builds in her body. I can feel it in the way her thighs tighten around me, the way her walls flutter and grip. She's close. So fucking close.
"Eyes on me." I don't recognize my own voice. "When you shatter, I want to see it."
She obeys. Of course she does. When Kristen gets like this— she'll do anything.
Her back arches, mouth falling open in a silent scream that finally finds sound. She pulses around me, hot and tight, and I'm gone.
I bury myself deep and let go.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. Just the sound of ragged breathing and the hum of the refrigerator. The vibrator lies forgotten on the counter where she dropped it.
"Holy shit." Kristen's voice is hoarse. Satisfied. "That was..."
She laughs, weak and wonderful. "You're going to kill me with these surprises."
"Never." I press my lips to her temple.
I gather her up, carrying her toward the bathroom. Her arms loop around my neck like they belong there.
"Nico?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
I kiss her forehead. "I love you too."
The copper tub is already filled. I planned that too. She sinks into the hot water with a groan that goes straight to my cock. Again.
But for now, I just hold her. Watch the tension drain from her shoulders. Memorize the way she looks at me.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Kristen
The dress weighs nothing, but I feel the silk against my skin with every breath.
Vittoria and I spent three days hunting for the perfect gowns. Three days of boutiques, champagne, and Vittoria dramatically declaring everything "absolutely not" until we found the ones. Mine is blue, backless, with a slit that climbs dangerously high on my left thigh. Vittoria's is green, structured at the bodice, flowing at the bottom—she looks like a goddess of vengeance.
