21. GIULIA
THE PRESSURE of his hand against my stomach, sliding down over my curves and toward my pussy, woke me up.
His fingers were callused, and they felt so damn good against my tender skin, that it was no wonder I’d awoken at the faint touch. My body knew who he was, even as my mind registered it.
Nyx.
Always him.
I shivered, deep inside, my pussy clenching as I waited on his next move, and when he hummed against my throat, his face buried there, I felt the faint vibration and sighed with delight. “You always smell so fucking good.”
“Is that a complaint I hear?” I half-teased, my voice a low rasp that morphed into a groan when his fingers finally swept down to between my legs.
My brow puckered in both delight and agony as he rubbed over me, letting the tips just hover over my clit.
I knew I was wet. Knew it, and felt no shame for it. Maybe with another man, I might have done, but this was Nyx. He was dark and dirty, and he liked me to be the same.
Plus, he was massive, so being wet around him all the time just facilitated things.
“Never a complaint, just a…” He broke off a second, before admitting on a mutter, “distraction.”
I blinked. Whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that.
“Thanks. I think.”
He snorted at my dry words, then shut me up by raking his teeth over the fleshy part where my throat connected with my shoulder. I bit on my bottom lip to contain the cry that started to escape me, and then I didn’t bother when he graced me with the faintest pressure on my clit.
I was past caring that my brothers might hear me, had long since stopped giving a fuck, and instead, I threw myself into the revelry, lifted my leg and cocked it over his thigh to give him more access.
He chuckled, and the sound was better than his grunts of pleasure when he was coming. I was addicted to that sound because it was so rare, and I loved that he seemed to be gifting me more and more of them, as though he knew he could be himself around me.
My heart melted, more than it usually did when I was around him. I knew what was happening to me, knew it, and had even started to embrace it, just as I was embracing the fact that I had to be fucking insane.
Nothing had changed.
Nothing.
He was still a biker, and I was a biker’s brat who’d been burned after years of watching my parents butt heads, but fuck, I didn’t care. I just couldn’t care. I needed him. In a way that I’d never needed anyone before. Shit, in a way that I’d never allowed myself to need anyone, either.
A shaky sigh escaped me as I forced myself to recognize what I was feeling for him. Sure, it was fast. Sure, it was crazy. And sure, it made no sense, but that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. What I felt was honest, real, pure. And I had a feeling that what he felt for me was exactly the same.
His cock was there, a solid presence between my thighs. It rested against my inner thigh, in fact, and I could feel the pre-cum dripping from the tip, could feel my sticky juices starting to mix with his, and the notion about made my eyes cross.
I wanted nothing more than to let him inside me with nothing between us, wanted to feel all that hardware against my soft inner tissues, but Jesus, was that taking things too far down the rabbit hole? This was more than just my heart that was at stake, this was my body. My health.
“Reach into your nightstand drawer.”
I knew why, so I didn’t argue, but when I did as bid, I didn’t feel the crisp foil of a condom, instead, I felt paper.
“Knew it was a big deal for you, so I had the full works, and I got it done express.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m clean.”
I reached for the paper and peered at it in the semi-dark. My mind wasn’t really thinking about STDs at that moment—talk about a buzzkill—but I gnawed on my lip and forced myself to read the letter. When I saw the results, I cleared my throat.
“You did this for me?”
“Wasn’t going to do it for anyone else, was I?” He pressed his lips to my throat. “Know you’re protected.”
I hummed. “I am.”
“You gonna let me inside you bare?” he rasped, his voice and the words telling me how badly he wanted that. And fuck, I wanted that so badly too.
I clenched my eyes closed, so overwhelmed at that moment that I felt sure I was going to overheat and simply melt on the sheets.
Not only was my heart pounding with the realization he’d actually gone to the clinic and paid extra to have the results rushed, but he’d done so for me.
For my sake.
For my benefit.
I didn’t doubt that he knew he’d reap the rewards, but that had to mean something, didn’t it?
He wanted me. And not for just a roll in the hay, because why would he have gone to all that trouble, unless it was for my benefit?
My heart started pounding, beating until I could hear it in my ears, and I whispered, “Come inside me, love.”
That was one word I hadn’t planned on using, because it ran too close to home, but he didn’t stiffen at it. At least, not in any way that I didn’t anticipate.
When his cock twitched, I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, and moaned when he began to rock his hips against me, letting me feel all those delicious textures, all that hardware and metal. Just thinking about feeling his Jacob’s ladder deep inside me, with nothing between us, had my eyes crossing.
He rubbed my clit and focused on my throat equally. I knew I’d bear a mark in the morning, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. I loved his hickies, even if they were primitive—and I loved his bites on my inner thighs even more, truth be told.
“I want you to feel every fucking inch of me, Giulia. Can you do that for me?”
“I-I don’t know,” I whimpered, moaning as his words hit me right at my core. “I-I’ll try.”
“I want you to know me, Giulia. You want that too, don’t you?” he asked as he dragged my folds apart, exposing my clit to the air.
I moaned and whimpered, “Y-Yes, I d-do.”
“That’s the right answer, baby girl.” He nipped at my throat, then his hand moved down so that the heel of his wrist was grinding into my clit, even as he was moving his cock, shifting it so that the tip was against the entrance to my body.
I tensed up, then forced myself to relax because that made things easier, and with a breathlessness that had me nearly hiccupping, I waited.
And waited.
Until finally, his heat, with those odd barbells, began to penetrate me.
It was completely and utterly different to feel him bare, to not have the slick slide of the condom between us. It was, I’d admit, also easier with the condom, but I far preferred this. I loved the intimacy, loved that he was tucked against me in the depth of the night, loved that he was at my back, my body curled about his as he made me his for real.
The piece of paper was like the Declaration of Independence lying beside me, fluttering with each breath I expelled, and I ignored it, even as much as I loved it for what I thought it represented.
As his tip pierced my gate, I gulped, released a shaky sigh, then pressed my hand to the bed to use as balance. Arching my hips back, I began to rock, needing to move, always needing the option to shift slightly because I always felt faintly panicked when he was working his way inside me.
When he nipped at my throat, hushing me once more, I gulped, then he ground the heel of his hand into me again, and my clit exploded with sensation.
I gushed around him, my muscles alternating between clenching deeply and relaxing totally, and he used that to his advantage.
Within seconds, he was inside me, and my eyes flared wide as I muttered, “N-No, that can’t be.”
He laughed. “You did it, baby girl.”
He sounded impressed, but even better, he sounded fucking happy, hell, he sounded faintly drunk himself. And when he didn’t move, I knew he was relishing the fact that I was taking him, all of him, and that his entirety was cosseted by my pussy.
Was it stupid to feel pride? Stupid when I knew, in the morning, I’d be aching like a bitch? It was even stupider than that, really, because he wasn’t going to be able to fuck me like this—he’d goddamn wreck me.
But I knew it felt good, and that made me feel good.
Deliriously so.
I shuddered when he rocked his hips, and like I’d known he’d do, he pulled out until the final piercing at the halfway point of his dick, was rubbing against the entrance of my body. That was his measure, and I was both grateful for it and resentful, because sweet fuck, it felt different bare like this.
When he began to rock his hips again, a gurgle escaped me, and I twisted my head to the side, reached for the pillow, and bit down as he began to fuck me.
He was careful, I’d give him that. But the feel of all those textures inside me?
Mind.
Blowing.
My hand clawed at the sheets, and I reached back to dig my nails into his thigh, to let him share in this feeling, to let him know how overwhelmed I was. How overwhelmed he’d made me feel.
When he began to massage my clit and sped up, I knew I couldn’t last. It was impossible. No one could sustain this level of anticipation, of delight, without imploding, and with each thrust, I was seeing more than just sparks, I was seeing fucking flames.
The scream that escaped me might have woken up my brothers, hell, it might have even woken up everyone on the compound, but did I give a fuck?
Nope.
Not one bit.
As the pleasure reamed me, those piercings rasping against confused tissues that weren’t sure whether they were proffering bliss or torment, my body felt like it was folding in on itself, and I released another sharp scream, one that twisted in tangent with his low grunts and harsh curses as he exploded into his orgasm too.
I felt him, then. All wet and warm, sticky and slick. He filled me, every inch of me, his cum pouring inside me even as he thrust his hips in deep, not letting a drop escape as he plugged me up with his full length.
And God help me, it felt right.
It felt perfect.
I released a gusty, if shaky breath, and maybe that was the perfect moment for the sheet of paper on the bed to fly off the side, to float to the ground.
To disappear into the ether.
Just as I did.
Hazy from the pleasure he’d gifted me, and exhausted, I fell asleep in his arms.