Chapter 17 #2
The words strike me in the chest, bowl me over. I hate that they make me want to reach out and touch him, hold his hand or some dumb shit like that. “Stop being nice to me. I don’t know how to respond to it.”
Aleks’ deep chuckle rumbles, and he swipes a piece of the baklava. While he chews, I pick up my phone, which has been buzzing relentlessly.
Shots Fired
Harper
Next time, Nic!
Sahar
Yeah, this way, you have a break before Madrid so you can kick ass
Delilah
And since we’ll all be in Madrid early, we can do lots of touristy things!!
Harper
Ooo yes, good call, Del.
Noah
Do we all have to partake?
Austin
Yeah I don’t want people looking at me like I’m dumb because I’m walking around with a map
Sahar
Trust me, that’s not why people will be looking at you like you’re dumb
Delilah
Also who still uses maps??
The messages continue pouring in. I’m about to click over to social media when Aleks sets a hand over my screen. “Stop. It’s going to make you feel worse. Don’t let the couch potatoes tell you how to play your sport.”
“How else will I know what I, the next great Carmen Aguirre, should be doing to be as great as her?”
Aleks scoffs. “You’re not the next Carmen Aguirre.”
Standing, I cross my arms and say, “Wow, what a weird way to kick me while I’m down.”
He stands too and steps in front of me, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Calling you the next Carmen Aguirre is a disservice to you. You blaze your own damn path.” He brushes a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.
“Calling you the next anyone pressures you to grow down one path. You have infinite places you can go.”
“Where should I go next?” I ask quietly. It’s a stupid question. I don’t even know what it means.
But he seems to. “Wherever you want. You want to be a major winner? You want to be world number one? You want to get your pilot’s license and spend your life flying around the world?
Do it. If there’s anyone I trust to do what they set their mind to, it’s you.
Because you’re the first and only Nicola Vassilakis. ”
It is, maybe, the single nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
And I allow that to be my reason for what I do next.
Gripping the fabric of his shirt, I yank him to me, the mouth I dreamed about last night meeting mine.
He’s so taken aback, his hand slaps the wall beside my head before he sinks into it.
His tongue slips into my mouth, his other hand drifting to my chin, and suddenly everywhere we touch is unbearably hot.
I throw my arms around his neck, my brain fuzzy, and when I push my chest against him, his groan reverberates in my mouth.
The kiss turns half rabid, sucking and biting and moaning until he hits that same spot on my neck as the other night.
Except this time, when I’m reminded how bad of an idea this is, I strangle the voice.
Because all my life, no one has prioritized my feelings unless they were paid to.
And though I pay Aleks, he goes so far above and beyond: sitting beside me and commiserating after a loss, driving me to the beach to relieve my stress on a rest day, finding and buying me desserts from my country to make me miss home a little less, telling me how capable I am when I feel anything but.
None of it is in his job description, and yet he does everything in his power to uplift me.
Aleks flips me, my stomach against the wall, his hand slipping under my tank top. Warmth zings through my veins, landing white-hot between my legs. “I still haven’t heard the magic words,” he whispers.
“Fuck me, Aleks. I won’t ask any nicer than that.”
I’m rewarded with a bite below my ear, a jolt at my spine when I feel him hard against my ass. “I don’t have a condom, and I’m almost positive this is a crime.”
I glance around, searching the ceiling. “It’s well after midnight and there are no cameras over here. Did you see anyone?”
He pushes the strap of my tank top out of his way, kissing the skin it exposes. “No.”
“I’ve got an IUD and I was clear at my recent physical.”
Aleks groans against my skin, maybe at the notion of taking me raw. “Clear at my last physical and haven’t been with anyone since,” he rasps. It’s all the reassurance I need to push against him.
His hand on my stomach slips beneath the waistband of my shorts and underwear, the pad of his finger brushing my clit. It’s swollen and sensitive, and just the touch pushes a whine from my chest.
His chuckle is like gravel against my back.
“If we’re doing this, you’re going to have to be quieter than that,” he whispers beside the shell of my ear, his lips brushing the metal hoops.
My head falls onto his shoulder, my neck bared for him, and when his finger travels lower, finds me soaked for him, he sucks in a sharp breath.
“You been wet and needy all this time? And you didn’t think to ask me for help?”
“We were hardly at a place where I would have allow—”
I’m cut off by the finger he sinks into me, the tension in my spine humming to life anew as he pushes in and out, finds what works for me, and adjusts his rhythm until I’m writhing and panting and begging, my nails digging crescents into the flesh of his forearm.
He smiles into the curve of my throat, kissing me softly.
Aleks’ finger brushes my clit once more, and the tension at the base of my spine explodes, blinding and all-consuming.
He doesn’t give me a chance to catch my breath, pulling himself out of his sweatpants and shoving my shorts down just enough that I’m exposed. “Last chance to ask nicely.”
“I…think we’re…past that,” I pant, straightening at the feel of his cock between my thighs.
“Fine. Then last chance to tell me to get lost before I bend you over and fuck you ’til you see stars.
” I find the wherewithal to lift my head, turning so our gazes clash.
He must glimpse in them whatever he was searching for, because all at once, his lips are on mine and he’s pushing inside me.
My body stretches to fit him slowly, and with every small movement, he groans.
“Jesus, fuck. It’s obscene how wet you are.”
I plant my hands on the wall, bending my hips. His hands find the divots of my waist, and he sinks all the way in, his groans guttural, primal.
“Once again, my fantasies never do you justice,” he grinds out.
There is solely static between my ears, so much so that the words fly by me as if unspoken. The first few glides in and out are choppy, and though we’re trying to be quiet, I’m positive it’s not going well. “Aleks—” A moan. “More,” I beg. What I mean is harder. Faster.
And because, apparently, he is a mind reader, his rhythm steadies and he speeds up. “Fuck, I’m not going to last long like this, solnyshko. You’re so fucking warm and wet and”—he thrusts another few times—“too fucking perfect, Nic. That’s what you are. Perfect for me.”
I grab his right hand, guiding it to the column of my throat. He chuckles darkly, pulling our bodies flush. The pressure of his left hand on my hip intensifies, his thrusts accelerating. I’m so wet, it sounds absolutely filthy, our bodies slapping together until his rhythm turns choppy again.
“Where do you want me?” he asks, half frantic.
“Exactly where”—I gasp as he finds my clit with the pad of his finger and circles me lightly—“you are,” I manage, pitching over a cliff into my orgasm.
It’s enough for him to let go, his thrusts growing slower and shallower as he follows me.
After we stop shaking, he pulls out of me gently. His chest remains pressed to my back, and he buries his fingers inside me, as if to keep his come in place before pulling my shorts and underwear up. Aleks’ forehead meets my temple.
“The next time we do that, I want it to be somewhere I can both worship you and clean you properly. You hear me?”
Words defy me, and though I should tell him there won’t be a next time, I know it’d be a lie.
So I nod, let him hold me while we catch our breath, and say nothing when he follows me all the way into my hotel room for another two rounds.