14. Passion
Chapter fourteen
Passion
(Kiah)
L ike clockwork, my body wakes with the sun.
But that’s the only thing that’s normal.
For the first time in more than a month, I wake up in my own bed instead of the futon.
Fuck!
Panic surges through me as I detangle myself from Nico’s naked body, draped around mine like a weighted blanket made of muscle and tattoos.
He grunts but doesn’t wake up, snoring lightly, sprawled out on his stomach.
Throwing a t-shirt over my nakedness, I drop into the armchair beside the bed, my racing mind running loops around my brain as I try to figure out what now.
How could I be so stupid?
Letting him out of his cage is one thing, but fucking him without a condom is the kind of mistake I should know better than to make.
I’m not worried about getting pregnant; I know that’s not possible anymore, not after what they did to me.
But who knows what diseases Nico could have? He doesn’t exactly seem like the responsible kind. No, he’s a reckless brute at best.
The first man I fuck in five years, and I’m stupid enough to do so without protection. Jesus, Kiah.
But deep down, I know condom isn’t the only problem with what happened…
I should never have fucked Domenico Ricci—period.
He’s a dead man walking. And the last thing I need is to be in the splash zone of whatever chaos is coming his way.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I regard the beautiful body passed out on my bed.
It wasn’t just on the beach…We came back and hooked up again (and again) in the bed, the sheets now a sticky mess of sweat and cum.
Oh god , I swear that dick piercing of his scraped my insides raw in the most incredible way.
I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, wondering what it would feel like from the inside, but dear god, I could never imagine such mind-numbing pleasure.
I just got caught up in the moment; I can’t explain it.
He seemed so different yesterday, more human almost.
But it’s no excuse for my lapse in judgment.
I moved to this island to get away from men like Nico, not to fuck them on the beach like we’re just normal people on a normal holiday.
But there’s nothing normal about fucking a mafia prince with a bounty on his head.
Why can’t I stop replaying the night in my mind though? It’s not like I haven’t had countless one-night stands before…They’re all I’ve ever had.
But this is different.
If I’m honest with myself, I don’t actually regret fucking Nico.
It felt incredible!
For the first time in half a decade, I felt alive; in control of my own life.
I actually came! I never come, not when there’s another person involved. The only time I ever reach the peak of climax is by my own hand and perhaps a little help from a toy.
But Nico, Jesus , he didn’t even do anything and my body exploded into a million little stars as he pumped my body full of his cum.
I know no good can come from feelings like that.
Getting mixed up in the mob is a sure way to lose your life.
I don’t need that kind of action.
What I need is to stay right here, live my quiet life, and be the wise old innkeeper with lots of hobbies.
The chaos in my mind shows no signs of slowing as I drag myself into a shower, scrubbing my body under the steaming water.
I have no idea what to do next.
Coffee, I need coffee.
Let’s start there.
Bit by bit, I compartmentalize my life, breaking it into tasks.
By the time I turn the shower off, I feel better, more centered. It’s a farce built on shaky willpower at best but it’s all I have.
Throwing on a dirty dress from the washing basket without bothering with underwear, I tie my hair up into a messy ponytail.
I know what I need to do next: I need to put on the kettle.
However, as soon as I leave the steamed-up bathroom, my carefully laid plans dissipate like mist.
Nico stands by the window, fully naked still, watching the waves crash against the shore. The morning light catches the tattoos wrapping around his torso, turning them almost beautiful.
He turns at my approach, those haunted eyes finding mine. Something flickers in their depths—vulnerability, need, fear. His fingers clench and unclench at his sides.
"Hey," I say, trying to hide the awkwardness in my voice as I head for the kitchen.
He follows, his footsteps silent on the hardwood. I can feel his presence behind me, electric and uncertain.
When I reach for the coffee, his hand catches my wrist.
"Kiah." My name sounds like a prayer on his lips.
I turn, and the look on his face steals my breath. Gone is the arrogant mafia prince. In his place stands a man at war with himself.
He takes a step closer, then another, until his forehead rests against mine. His breathing is ragged, uneven.
"I can't..." he starts, his voice breaking. "I don't know how..."
“What do you want?” I ask, confusion settling on my brow.
Nico considers the question but doesn’t speak.
Instead, slowly, as if fighting against his own body, he sinks to his knees, kneeling before me on the hardwood.
The sight of him on his knees freezes me in place. My heart pounds against my ribs, a war drum of confusion and desire.
This is dangerous.
But I can't look away from the proud man brought low before me, his shoulders trembling with barely contained emotion. The collar I placed around his neck gleams in the morning light, a reminder of our strange dance of power.
"Please," he whispers again, the word barely audible as he looks up at me with neediness in his eyes, a desire that knows no name, no words—something raw, primal.
My hand moves of its own accord, fingers threading through his dark hair. He leans into my touch like a man starved for gentleness.
This is madness. He's a mobster, a killer, a man who held a knife to my throat. I should be running, not...
But the way he yields to me ignites something I thought I'd lost. Something that was taken from me that night on the docks, along with my blood and trust.
"Look at me," I command, my voice stronger than I feel.
Those storm-blue eyes meet mine, vulnerable yet hungry. I see my own darkness reflected there, my own need.
"Is this what you want?" I ask, tightening my grip in his hair.
His breath hitches. "Yes."
The word hangs between us, dangerous and beautiful.
Without letting go of his hair, I pull my dress up over my hips, bunching it over my stomach, no longer self-conscious about my body’s scars, even in the morning light.
Nico’s whole body stiffens, not just his uncaged cock. The chastity cage’s ring eventually came off last night, now discarded with the other silver pieces I didn’t bother locking back in place.
“Show me how good you can be,” I whisper as I pull his face into my cunt, giving in to my needs.
A groan escapes my lips as Nico grabs my ass with both hands, pulling me even closer while his tongue darts over my clit, exploring the sensitive nerve endings with an eagerness, a desperation, that makes my knees weak seconds after contact.
I hold onto his shoulders for stability, hold on with everything I’ve got as the dark prince devours my pussy like it’s his last meal on earth.
Oh god, it feels incredible!
It’s never felt like this.
So beautiful.
So intense.
When you get your pleasure from single-use encounters, you tend to miss out on the more intimate acts of passion.
Sure, this wasn’t the first time a man had eaten my pussy, but it was the first time a man had kneeled before me, losing himself in my pleasure like he actually cared whether I came or not.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp as Nico finds a rhythm that makes my body sing, a rhythm that has me nearing the edge in minutes.
For once in his life, the brat does as he’s told, holding me tightly as he finishes what he started. Holding me until I scream his name in orgasm. Until my knees collapse and he catches me with both arms, pressing me against his body as I ride out my climax with my arms firmly shut, my chest heaving up and down like I’ve run a marathon.
When I finally regain my sense enough to let the world in again, to open my eyes, to register anything beyond the feel of Nico’s skin against mine, his body holding me, I find him looking at me with a strange look in his eyes.
I smile tenderly, kissing his lips sweetly, licking my spent lust from his mouth.
“Oh Nico…” I whisper, kissing his eyelids.
Then something changes.
I see the moment panic floods his eyes.
His body goes rigid, muscles coiling.
"No," he snarls, jerking away from me. "No, this isn't...I can't..."
He springs to his feet, that familiar coldness slamming back into place. "What the fuck are you doing to me?"
Just like that, my predator returns, all traces of submission gone.