Chapter 21 #2
“I’m tested regularly,” he says, and he tears open the packet. “And I haven’t been with anyone since…”
Since the woman broke in to the Iron’s practice to throw herself at him.
But we don’t need to rehash.
“Since we’ve gotten together,” he finishes, and I am exceedingly happy our relationship is his measuring stick. No matter that it’s not real. He holds up the condom between his fingers. “There’s still time for you to say no.”
I bite back a smile. “Are you trying to talk me out of this?”
“I’m trying to not be the bad guy.”
I move to sit on the edge of the bed, so I’m basically eye level with his groin, the tip of his cock pearling with liquid. I force my eyes up to his. “You’re not the bad guy. You’ve never been.”
He exhales a big breath and nods to himself before rolling the condom on.
I watch in fascination, his dexterous fingers completing the task.
My sex education was DO NOT DO IT, so I never actually learned about how to use a condom and certainly never had the opportunity to try it.
And I’m actually grateful Nico is experienced and can teach me.
I don’t feel so stupid and lost with him, like some bumbling, timid girl.
With him standing before me, hands at his sides, granting me all the time I need to study him, I’ve never been more appreciative for my life. The path I’ve been on led me here.
I place my hand back on his chest, over his breastbone, between his defined pectorals, and admire the golden tan of his skin, a California boy through and through.
As I let my fingers drift down, his abs ripple, and I caress the line of hair under his navel leading down to his proud shaft.
I grip it over the condom, squeezing how he taught me.
He closes his eyes, taking a few breaths as I lean forward to kiss his stomach, wrap my free hand around his taut glute. I dig my fingers into it, and he groans, arching an eyebrow my way. “That how it’s going to be?”
I have no idea how it’s going to be. This is all one giant experiment, and when I shrug a shoulder, he moves to the bed, positioning himself on his back.
Then he holds out his hands. “Come here, mama.” He eases me on top of him, my legs on either side, his cock between us. “You’re going to be in control.”
When I hesitate, he smiles softly. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t come to me, only tugs me down, forcing an angle of my body so that my clit rubs against him, along his length. He nips at my lips. “Do what feels good.”
So I do. I roll my hips and hold on to his shoulders to make myself even wetter, gliding back and forth along him as he squeezes and pets my ass, my back, my breasts.
He plays with my nipples and praises me.
Tells me how well I’m doing, how good it feels, how I’m in control and can’t do anything wrong.
Once we’re both worked up and panting, he nudges me to sit up as he grips the base of his length, holding it up. “Go ahead. Ride me.”
I plant my hand on his chest and rise up so he can position the broad head at my entrance, and I let my eyes flutter closed.
“No, Jo, eyes on me. Look at me.”
I snap my eyelids open and keep my focus on him as I slowly lower down.
It takes my breath away, but still, I sink one inch at a time.
When it pinches painfully, he works to soothe it, one hand at my breast, the other strumming at my clit.
Eventually, my lungs expand, and I sink farther, being filled to the brim.
“Nico,” I whisper, unsure once again, but he merely nods and smiles.
“You’re doing so good. Look, look.” He tips his chin to where I’ve completely encompassed him, nothing between us anymore. “You were made for me.”
He holds my hands, twining our fingers together, gently pushing me to sit up, urging me to move, swivel my hips, and I eventually find what works, everything hot. Like I’ve been in a simmering pot of water, but now it’s boiling.
I lift my hair up from my neck, needing cool air on my skin, but that only seems to make Nico ravenous. “Oh, fuck yes. Look at you.”
He paws at me, cupping and pinching and clutching me so hard, there might be fingertip bruises tomorrow.
I don’t think I care.
When I speed up, he locks his hands on my hips, helping me, thrusting up from the bottom. “That’s it, that’s it. You gonna come like this? Yes. Yes, please, Jo. Please come like this.”
His words spur me on, my body chasing another orgasm, and with a circle of his thumb at my clit, I finally bubble up over the edge, pleasure releasing from deep inside me, spilling like that boiling pot.
I give in to a moan, falling over, so I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing anymore, but Nico’s there, coaxing me, taking control.
“You did so good, mama. So good.” He rolls us, so that I’m underneath him, still recovering from that orgasm.
He tenderly kisses my throat and along my shoulders until my mind is fully back in my body and I can order my limbs to move.
I bend my legs, wrapping them around his waist, looping my arms around his neck, and he exhales harshly. “You got one more in you?”
In answer, I brush my lips over his ear, tug at his lobe with my teeth, and he chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Then he rises up on his hands, pressing up so he can rock into me, still hard. Like this, I see the veins in his neck and arms stand out, and I imagine the blood rushing through them. Like it is in mine. Heart racing. Skin on fire.
A delicious pain.
“You feel that?” He widens his knees, able to drive into me faster. “You were made for me, Jo.”
I want it to be true.
I want our fates to align.
I want this friendship we’ve found to grow.
He groans, his teeth clenching, and I do what feels good, reaching my hand between us to touch myself. He nods his approval. “That’s my girl.”
And I want that to be true too.
I’m his girl, and he’s my guy.
“Fuck, Jo, you gonna come with me? I can’t hold it any longer.”
I circle my fingers faster, lift my knees higher, and cry, “Yes, Nico, yes!”
He groans, letting his head fall as he thrusts once, twice, three more times before stuttering to a stop. Behind my closed eyes, light bursts, and I arch my neck, draping my arms around Nico’s neck when he falls against me.
After a minute of only our heartbeats and breaths between us, he turns us, keeping me against his chest, his skin hot and damp with sweat. Still keeping his cock inside me.
“You okay?”
I stroke my fingers over his handsome face. “Yes.”
“You don’t hurt?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
“Not totally reassuring, but okay.” He laughs into a kiss and skims his hand over my back, down to grip my butt cheek.
He drops little pecks all over my face, forcing a drunken giggle out of me, and it’s as if my amusement reenergizes him.
He carefully pulls out of me and leaps out of bed to take care of the condom, disappearing into the bathroom for a minute, only to appear again with a warm, wet cloth.
He tenderly wipes between my legs and upper thighs, and I am surprised at how comfortable I am, allowing him to perform the intimate gesture, uncaring what bodily fluid might be left on the washcloth.
He folds it up then pushes a few strands of hair back from my face. “Water?”
“Please.”
“A snack?”
“Maybe.”
He tosses the cloth into the laundry hamper then helps himself to pouring two glasses of water and digging through the fridge for cheese sticks. “We gotta get more food in your kitchen, Jojo.”
Still naked and totally carefree, he places the glasses of water down then sprawls out on the bed next to me, tossing me a Polly-O. I open it, nibbling on a string. “I’m not much of a cook, but even if I were, I couldn’t do much in this apartment.”
“I can have meals delivered.”
“You already have my breakfast delivered every day.”
“Yeah, but you need more than string cheese and fruit cups for lunch and dinner. You have the diet of a ten-year-old.”
I refuse to give in to a laugh, and he pinches my side before relaxing on me, his head on my chest, as if I’m his personal recliner. “Nico.”
He tilts his head to look at me. “Hm?”
I gesture to how he’s lying, and he rolls his eyes with a grumble, shifting so we flip positions, my head against his chest. “Just for that, I’m setting you up with a meal-delivery service.”
My first instinct is to refuse him. I’ve worked on becoming independent, relying on only myself. Hell, I just gave him that whole speech on my soapbox about being a tough and gritty West Virginian the other day.
But I like being spoiled.
I like accepting his gifts.
I like allowing him to be the good and generous person I know he is.
So I merely twist to kiss him. “Thank you, Nico.”
He traces the tip of his index finger over my lips. “You’re welcome, Jojo.”