“Yours are a lot more badass than mine,” I tell him, and he blinks before laughing. I’m used to people going out of their way to avoid bringing scars up, and all it does is make things more awkward. I bet he’s used to it, too.
“Mine are much older,” he replies, tracing the curve of my scar with his pinky. The skin is still more sensitive, and I don’t hate it.
“They’re pretty hot.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and Ireallydon’t hate that. “God, Este.”
“What? Are you saying you don’t think my scar makes me hot?” I tease.
“You’re beautiful. Scar or not,” he says, more seriously. It makes my stomach dip, and that’s not what we’re supposed to be doing here.
I graze his zipper with my foot, and Nico sucks in a breath.
“Doesn’t feel fair that you’re wearing pants and I’m not.”
Nico raises a brow, but he stands and flicks open the button on his jeans. “Surely you should be used to it, considering your apparent aversion to wearing pants. Or do you just like making me lose my goddamn mind?”
“I do like doing that,” I confirm—why lie? “But I’ve only been actively trying to do it today, for the record.”
“You’ve been doing it since you got here, trying or not.” He kicks his jeans off, and I only have a second to process how hard he is, pressing against his boxers, before he’s kneeling again.
I expect him to take my underwear off, but he doesn’t. He leans over me, pushing up my rumpled cami, his soft beard tickling my stomach as he kisses me. I’m raised up enough on my elbows that I’m looking down at him slightly when his kisses reach my breasts. He drags his tongue along the curve, groaning, then draws my nipple between his lips. I cry out, my head snapping back. His mouth is so fucking warm, sending fire into my body as he circles my nipple with the tip of his tongue.
He brushes his thumb over the other, and I feel my hips lifting from the couch. Closer. I need him closer.
“God, god, god, god,” I chant as he makes the room spin, spiraling me closer to the edge than anyone ever has by just touching my nipples. I’m seconds away from actually coming when he stops, rising up my body.
I open my mouth to protest but swallow it when he drags his fingers up my neck. His hand is big enough to gripmy throat—his grip featherlight—and still press his pointer finger against my lips.
“Oh god,” I whimper, as he presses it into my mouth.
“Uh-uh,” Nico says, as I suck it deeper. “That’s not what you call me, is it?”
I shake my head, and he pulls his finger out, dragging it down my body, using my own saliva to tease my nipple.
“What do you call me?” he murmurs, his mouth hovering above mine. He doesn’t kiss me. Fuck, I wish he would kiss me.
“Daddy,” I whisper, my gaze glued to his lips. They curve in a smirk that makes my stomach flip.
“That’s a good girl.”
Where the fuck has this version of him been hiding for the past week?
He leans in, but skips my lips, kissing my jaw instead. It’s hard to be frustrated when he traverses my body, leaving searing kiss marks every few inches as he heads south.
I expect him to keep going when he kisses my belly button, but he doesn’t. He curses, kissing it once, twice, three times more, then circling the edges with his tongue. My body is alight, burning. I moan, squirming below him as he flicks the tip of his tongue over my belly button. It’s ticklish, the sensation somehow reaching every inch of my body. I close my legs around his back, writhing, falling closer to the edge.
I cannot come for the first time because he’s licking my belly button. But I could. It feels so fucking electric.
“Oh my go—Daddy,” I correct with a whimper, and Nico growls his approval against my naval.
His tongue is relentless, so much so that I don’t notice his hand moving down my body until he slides it inside my underwear and presses his thumb against my clit.
I open my mouth, but my cry is silent as Nico rubs his thumb in one single circle, and I lose it. It’s like I’m soaring outside of myself, my back bowing off the couch as I try to get closer to him, my nails razing down his back.
Hell, I’m practically hyperventilating when I float back down into my body. Nico has his forehead pressed against my stomach, his hand still in my underwear, and I can see the rise and fall of his back like he, too, is trying to catch his breath.
After a moment, he looks up. There’s no gray left in his eyes, just black, hungry desire.
