THIRTY ONE
" I baked you chocolate chip cookies." I held the clear container out for Nicolas to take. "I wasn't sure which kind of cookies you'd like so I went with the safest option."
The look of pure joy on his face was definitely worth me nearly melting my face off when I browned the butter on the stove top. It was my mistake for turning the gas way too high.
"Do you enjoy baking?" he enquired, taking the container from me and leaning forward while he waited for a kiss. "I'll eat anything you make me."
I didn't acknowledge his action, wanting to rile him up. "The words every woman wants to hear."
Nicolas frowned, placing the container onto the counter. "If you don't give me a damn kiss right now—" I crashed my lips onto his, wrapping my arms around his neck.
When I pulled away, I laughed softly. "You' re so easily worked up."
"Hold that thought." He squished my cheeks, making my lips pop open. "You got a piercing?" He looked at it with a neutral expression on his face, so I didn't know if he was impressed or not.
"Ouch." I pried his hands away. "Is it really necessary to handle me in that rough manner?" I teased.
"It looks pretty," he admitted. "Not nearly as pretty as you are, but it's close second." I laughed at his reaction, holding my wrist in front of him.
When his eyes landed on the design, they darkened a fraction. "Is that the tattoo you wanted?" He swiped his thumb over the little butterfly.
"I got three done, actually." The look on his face was one of pure shock. "Would you like to see the rest?" He didn't answer me, he only observed me with those scrutinising, grey eyes.
"Where did you get them done?" he asked coolly, still caressing my inner wrist, but there was an underlying darkness in his words and tone that instantly made me shiver.
I ignored the feeling and his question, seeing that he never answered mine. "You didn't answer my question though." Involuntarily, I pouted. "Would you like to see the other two? Yes or no?"
"Who was the artist?"
A deep set frown was plastered on my face. "You can't answer a question with a question."
"Who. Was. The. Artist?" he asked again, slowly walking towards me. "I honestly hope you'll tell me it was a female."
I took slow steps backwards. "Does it matter?"
"If you show me the placement of the other tattoos and it's somewhere on your body that is only meant to be touched by me, then yes. It matters."
"You're being ridiculous," I said in annoyance. "That's his job and they're trained professionals."
"Ah, so it was a male, after all," he said in that calm tone of voice. It was always so spine chilling. The way he sounded too calm, yet his words tended to have that dangerous edge to it.
I wished I could take back my words, but it was already too late for that. I made a break for it, running through my house in hopes that I'd reach my room before he caught up to me.
"Run, my little butterfly. Let's see how quickly I can catch you." It suddenly felt like the hallway that led to my bedroom was longer than usual. It felt like a never ending dream. Where each time I thought I'd reach the end of it, I'd just be back at the beginning again.
I ran, but I went to one of the guest rooms. There was a sliding door that lead to the backyard which meant I could create more distance between us. My legs went as fast as they could possibly go.
I heard him laughing somewhere behind me, but I didn't dare turn around. I unlocked the sliding door, which definitely felt like a mission on its own. When I looked behind me, he wasn't that far from where I stood. I pulled the door open slightly, squeezed through, and jumped over the concrete step.
My breathing was erratic and I headed towards the front of my house. That was my mistake—of course, he was there. Waiting for me. Like a true hunter waiting for its prey.
Nicolas grabbed a hold of me before tossing me over his shoulder. "When will you realise that you can't escape me?"
He carried me back inside of the house, kicking the front door closed with his foot. The man definitely had strength and prowess. He held me tightly with one arm and used his free hand to lock the door.
I tried fighting against him, but the behemoth of a man physically overpowered me. We entered my room and I writhed against his hold. "Put me down right now."
"Okay." He threw me onto my bed, making me bounce slightly. "I put you down, are you happy now?"
"That's not what I meant, you fool." I glared at him.
"Always so mouthy," he tsked, gripping my ankles tightly and pulling me closer. "I can think of better ways to make use of that smart fucking mouth."
He zipped down his jacket, smoothly pulling it off both arms to reveal the black compression shirt underneath. Every muscle indent was visible and I nearly drooled at the sight.
I gulped, resting on my elbows while I eyed him. He loosened the string of his sweatpants, gesturing for me to come closer. "Sit up."
I shook my head, wanting to move backward, but he quickly grabbed my ankle—preventing me from moving away. "Show me the other tattoos," he demanded.
"What?" I couldn't think straight. I was too occupied by Nicolas' physique. Too distracted. Too overwhelmed.
"I don't like repeating myself," he said, his voice dripping with malice.
"Nicolas…" was all I could manage to utter. The intensity in his dark grey eyes made me want to cower, but I couldn't escape.
"You're not going to do as I say?" He grabbed a hold of my hair, creating a makeshift ponytail. “Very well then,” he muttered. "Lift up my shirt." I furrowed my eyebrows, feeling extremely confused, but obliged.
I grabbed a hold of the soft material, slowly lifting up, and that's when I saw it. My eyes widened when I saw the new ink.
"No," I said softly. " No ," I repeated and grimaced as I stared at his new tattoo in horror. It was situated on the left hand side of his lower abdomen. Each time he flexed or even breathed, the tattoo shifted and creeped me the hell out.
"Yes," he muttered and I could sense the sarcasm in his tone of voice. "Consider this an opportunity to face your fears, mikrí petaloúda ."
"What?" I asked in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"
He pulled my hair, my face almost pressed against the tattooed spider. "They say the only way to get over your fears is to face it head on." He gripped my chin. "I want those luscious lips wrapped around my cock. You'll do that for me, won't you?"
My clit pounded against the material of my underwear and I could feel the arousal slowly seeping out of me. I looked up at him, trying to regulate my breathing.
"You're so cruel."
He laughed. "Cruel?" he asked sarcastically. "No, I don't think that's the correct term, but even if I was cruel, you'd love it. It would make that little pussy of yours all wet, wouldn't it?" he murmured, pulling my head back. "What would that make you? A sick little masochist?"
A whimper escaped me. He knew the truth and so did I. His degradation turned me on more than it should have. "Show me how you overcome your fears, sweetheart." He stood in between my legs, spreading them further apart.
He released his grip on my hair and pulled the shirt over his head, baring his chiselled upper body to me. God, this man was perfection. Every perimeter of his skin was so flawless. Every muscle prominent, with his impeccable tan complexion and that delicious cologne—a mixture of fruits, marine notes, base notes cedar, patchouli, white musk, and rock rose.
He slowly pulled down his sweatpants, freeing his hard, girthy dick. Every vein bulged and it had me clenching my thighs together. Involuntarily I bit my lip, itching to touch him. "I'm sure you know what to do," he said slyly. "But if you need some assistance, I'd be happy to guide you."
"Between the two of us, I think you're the sick one," I said breathlessly, making him laugh. "Getting off on my fear."
"Hmm," he hummed, holding my hair in both of his hands. "Open those pretty lips for me, sweetheart." I couldn't help it. I followed his instructions, letting him guide my head. I took him into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat.
He groaned softly, looking down at me with lust filled eyes. "More. You can take more." It felt like my mouth was already at full capacity, but I soldiered on, my eyes fluttering close. "Eyes on me," he demanded.
I slowly opened my eyes, tears forming in them. "Don't take your eyes off me," he said gruffly. "I want to watch that fire burning in your eyes while you swallow every inch of my cock."
I whimpered around him, and that's when he pulled out of my mouth, only to push his hips forward. He fucked my mouth, holding my head still. The spider tattoo was in my line of vision and I furrowed my eyebrows.
I couldn't handle the sight, but the whole ordeal made me wetter than the ocean. The rough way he handled me, feeling his throbbing dick in my mouth, the new, dark ink. Everything was just too much for me to handle and it felt like I'd pass out any minute.
I held onto his forearms, digging my nails into his skin. He moaned softly, never taking his eyes off me. "Only you make me feel this good, Gabriella," he murmured. "I only want you. This is exclusive to you."
I applied more pressure to my grip on him. "A few minutes in and I already feel like coming," he moaned, and it was by far the sexiest sound I've ever heard. "Jesus Christ," he hissed.
I nodded, egging him on. I wanted to make him come so bad it almost hurt. Drool trickled down the sides of my mouth, tears wet my cheeks, and I couldn't stop whimpering.
"Fuck’s sake," he said under his breath. "I'm coming," he grunted, rocking his hips back and forth until I felt that hot liquid coating my throat. "Yes," he whimpered. "I love that look on your face."
He slowly pulled out, pushing me backward. He got on top of me, immediately pressing his lips on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
Tongue kissing after I just went down on him was definitely one of my favourite things I've ever experienced. He pushed my shirt up, his kisses moving from my jaw to my neck, and once my breasts were exposed to him, he sucked on my nipple.
I moaned, arching my back. My breathing became more erratic with each passing second.
Nicolas paused, his eyes landing on the tattoo. "There it is." He licked the skin between my breasts. "So another man saw and touched this area, huh?"
He continued licking along my abdomen while simultaneously removing my shorts, revealing the other tattoo to him. "Another one." He looked up at me with dark eyes.
"I thought you were my good girl," he said mockingly, that venom in his tone quite evident.
"I am," I whimpered, holding onto him tightly. "I'm always good for you."
"This says otherwise." He pulled my panties to the side, pushing my thigh upward. He latched his lips onto my clit and I cried out. The tingling sensation sending me over the edge.
"Oh my God," I moaned softly. "It feels so good." He licked and slurped me up. I closed my eyes, unable to handle all of the sensations. I writhed, gripping the sheets tightly.
He ate me out like it was his daily ritual. Like a starved man. Like an insatiable man. My legs started shaking and he groaned against my pussy. Wet, squelching noises travelled to my ears.
I placed both hands on top of his head, attempting to push him away, and that's when his movements came to a halt.
He looked up at me with those cold, hypnotic, grey eyes—anger swimming in his irises. "Don't interrupt me while I'm eating. Lay back and take it like the good girl you claim to be."
He dove back in and it had me gushing all over his face. All I knew was that he'd definitely ruined me and I wasn't complaining.