Chapter Fifteen
Nico’s lips gently brush over mine in a silent question.
I shut my eyes and open my mouth, deepening the kiss in answer.
A groan wrestles its way from deep within Nico’s throat, vibrating against my lips.
Our tongues tangle together, giving and taking.
Pushing and pulling. When he runs his hand through my slightly damp hair, wrapping the locks around his fist and tugging my head back to give him better access, I let out a gasp of surprise.
But he devours the sound, and the quiet moans that get trapped between my lips.
His teeth and tongue trail down my neck. Exploratory at first, then desperate.
“Can I touch you?” he mumbles against my ear.
“Please,” I pant, grabbing a fistful of his T-shirt.
He flips us around so I’m facing the New York City skyline.
My back is arched against Nico’s front. I feel his hardness press against me, firm and imposing.
He nips at my neck, running his hands along the curves of my body.
His calloused fingers caress the sides of my breasts, the softness of my waist, before kneading the roundness of my ass.
Nico lets out a little growl, cupping both cheeks before giving each one a playful smack.
“Perfect,” he whispers.
“Is that right?” I attempt to tease.
Until Nico’s fingers land on my breasts, giving each nipple a sharp tug.
My thoughts turn fuzzy.
“Yes, Joonie. That is right.” He leans down to run his tongue and teeth over fabric-covered peaks. “You have no idea, do you?”
“No idea about what?”
“What you do to me. How often I’ve thought about this. About you.”
My hands reach around, under his shirt, feeling the toned muscle there. The wisps of body hair and defined, earned lines. “Since that night in the motel?” My fingers move over his chest, down his abs. Lower.
“No.” He lifts my sweatshirt over my head in one swift motion, covering every inch of the skin he finds with kisses. “Guess again.”
My pulse races, my breaths coming fast and shallow.
“Oh God,” I whisper as his hands migrate to the inner seam of my jean-clad thighs. “The accident? When I fell asleep?”
He turns me around again to face him. His pupils are so dilated that his blue eyes look as black as the night sky. Without breaking eye contact, he kneels before me. “Do you remember your first winter break home from college?”
He runs a single finger between my legs, from the apex of my thighs to my entrance, humming when he finds the fabric there already damp.
“Yes,” I force out. “Tey said your parents were making you decide who you wanted to spend the holidays with, so you chose neither and stayed with us. I was so pissed.”
He chuckles roughly, applying pressure. “No shit. When I left for college, you were just my best friend’s sweet kid sister.
Then years later, you walked through the door, and I kid you not, Joonie, when I saw you again, I felt like I’d been punched in the fucking throat.
You marched in with all this beautiful black hair piled on the top of your head, your hands on your hips, and fury in your giant brown eyes.
You hated me. Walked right past me without so much as a second look. And I was done for.”
I run my hands over his silky buzzed blond head, his hair like strands of gold in the light of the streetlamps. “I promised myself that I’d act like you weren’t there. Tey yelled at me for it.”
“Yes.” One hand undoes the button of my jeans, slowly pulls down the zipper.
“It turned me on to see you get all fired up. You never gave me the time of day unless I ticked you off. So I began picking fights with you here and there. Nothing serious. Just enough to see your cheeks flush that crimson red. Like they’re doing right now. ”
With one firm tug, my jeans and panties are pooled around my ankles. I whimper as the cool air brushes against the most sensitive parts of me.
“You’ve wanted me all this time?” His breath tickles my stomach. I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. “But I was so mean to you. You were so mean to me.”
“You fucking consume me, Joonie.”
The stirring in my core is momentarily drowned out by the drumming of my heart.
“Tell me what you like,” he whispers against my abdomen.
“Excuse me?” I’ve dated so many men, but not one has ever bothered to ask that question.
“Come on, Joon.” He gives my ass a playful squeeze. “You’re a romance reader. I know what that means. You’ve spent time exploring what turns you on. And that turns me on, too.”
I grip his head like a steering wheel. The groan he lets out in response vibrates against my clit.
“Start slow,” I whisper. “Tease me.”
Nico doesn’t hesitate. He leans in and parts my folds with his tongue, not quite reaching the spot where I need him most.
“Like this?” He moans at the taste. “Fuck, you’re so wet, Joonie.”
He paints torturous, deliberate circles around my nerves, causing me to cry out.
“Fuck yes,” he hisses. “I love that you know what you want.”
His tongue circles my entrance, shallowly dipping in.
“Tell me what else you like.” His eyes meet mine, heavy-lidded with lust.
“I’ve been looking for this. For you. You’re the first to…to…”
“To what?” A finger replaces his tongue, edging its way inside me. I stifle a scream. “To make your legs shake? To make your entire body clench? Or to make you beg?”
A sliver of indignation passes through me. “I haven’t begged.”
“No.” The finger inside of me begins to move. Slowly at first, then faster. Working up to a rhythm that I’ve only read about in books. “But you will.”
Before I can protest, Nico adds a second finger, moving both of them against that hidden place deep inside of me that always makes me see stars.
I close my eyes and throw my head back, a guttural sound leaving my throat that I don’t even recognize.
He continues to run his tongue back and forth over my slit, pausing to whisper words of encouragement that make me writhe.
But as I squirm, a strong arm keeps my legs in place.
For the first time in forever, I don’t compare the person I’m with to Ryke.
I don’t think about Kyle.
In fact, I don’t think at all.
There are only the sensations. Of Nico’s fingers pumping in and out of me, stroking my inner walls. Of his hot tongue and lips, adding suction to that bundle of nerves. Of his racing pulse beneath my fingers, proving to me that he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
“Is this real?” I hear myself whisper.
“This,” he says, curling his fingers, “is as real as it gets.”
And then, against my better judgment, I prove Nico right.
“Please,” I hear myself say.
“Please what?” He removes his fingers entirely, and I immediately mourn the loss. “Use your words.”
“Please, Nico.” I shamelessly grind my hips against his face, seeking friction.
He laughs. “Please, Nico, what?”
“Please let me come, asshole,” I practically bite, shutting my eyes tightly.
Then I hear the tearing of a wrapper, the sound of a zipper, and Nico’s labored breaths. His hand touches my face, gently stroking my cheek. I hum as he cups my head.
“Look at me,” he says softly.
He locks onto my eyes and draws in a short breath.
“Absolutely fucking perfect,” he says.
And then, inch by inch, he works his way inside of me. Until the feel of him, fully seated, throbbing with anticipation, is almost too much to bear. I wiggle my hips, urging him to move, but he just stares at the place where we’re joined, shaking his head.
“Hold on to my shoulders.”
Then he is kissing me, owning my body, thrusting his hips in time with his tongue.
And I feel so whole, so delightfully full, that I think to myself: I couldn’t write a better story than this.
Nico’s hard body against my soft chest, his hands in my hair, his eyes on me.
And the way he looks at me, like he cannot believe that I am here.
Like I am greater than any fantasy, any fiction.
His right hand moves between us, adding pressure, just as he nips at the crook of my neck. Suckling, and biting, then swirling his tongue to soothe the sting. Between us, his thrusts match the movement of his mouth.
My walls constrict around him.
“Where the hell did you learn that?” I manage to breathe, my eyes falling closed.
“I think it was in the fanfic where Ryke and Merriah return to the Ice Age to warn the mammoths right before—”
“Wait, what?” My eyes fly open, and my back straightens slightly, my climax building with every passing second. “You read that fic? Before reading the source material? Wait. It was, like, a hundred thousand words. Did you read the whole thing?”
“Joonie.” He kisses me on the forehead. “I’ve read everything you’ve ever written.”
I detonate.
And like the skyline in front of me, I explode with a light so blinding, the city grows dark in comparison.
Nico follows me over the edge, holding me through the aftershocks, kissing the top of my shoulder.
He whispers to me, stroking my hair, that if tonight was the end of the world, this is the only place he’d want to be.
And later that night, when we go to sleep, I don’t dream of the prince of Atlantia.
But I do dream.