Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty Three
Erica
He’s letting me lead.
The realization is a jolt, a shockwave that cuts through the fog of lust and brings everything into sharp, painful focus.
He’s letting me.
Nico, the man who took control the second he saw me at the auction, the man who held me down, the man who ordered me to come, is letting me set the pace.
Why?
The question hangs in the air, unspoken, a silent third person in the bed with us.
Is it a test?
The kiss between us is hungry, desperate. I rock against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through me. His erection, hot and hard against my center, is a promise of what’s to come.
But it’s a promise he’s not in a hurry to keep.
His hands are on my hips, holding me, but not guiding me. His thumbs are stroking slow, maddening circles on my skin, a touch that’s both possessive and patient.
And it’s driving me crazy.
I want more.
I need more.
His hands slide from my hips to my back, his fingers tracing the delicate line of my spine. I shudder and feel the goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch.
I melt, pliant and soft, into his arms.
I want so badly for him to roll me over and show me what it means to be his. Give me what I really want. What I crave.
I pull back at that thought.
No, that's not what I want. This is what I want. Both of us on equal footing.
I sit up, hands braced on his chest, and look down at him. So damn handsome with his dark eyes, the stern set of his mouth.
A mouth that can bring me immense pleasure or reduce me to a whimpering mess.
His hands slide down to my hips, fingers digging into my flesh. Finally, I think.
Finally.
But he just rests his hands on my hips, doesn't guide them.
Well, maybe it's time to tempt him.
I lean back and reach for the hem of my tank top, my movements slow and deliberate.
His dark eyes, filled with heat, watch each movement. I’ve seen that look on him before. It’s predatory and possessive. A look that says I’m a prize he’s just won and he’s about to claim his reward.
My breath hitches.
I pull the tank top over my head, my hair tumbling down around my shoulders, and toss it aside.
The cool air hits my skin, and my nipples pebble, aching for his touch.
His gaze drops to my breasts, and the raw hunger in his eyes is so intense it feels like a physical touch.
I want him to take one into his mouth, suck until I'm squirming and begging—
No.
To prove it to myself, I lean down and brush my lips over Nico's, feather-light. A whisper of a kiss that's more of a tease than anything else. I do it again, and again.
His hand slides up my side and teases the underside of my breast.
I shiver, body arching, a silent plea for more.
He cups my breast in his hand, his thumb circling my nipple, but not quite touching it.
Teasing.
Torturing.
Waiting.
For me to give in.
My breath hitches.
No.
My hips buck against his, and I start to move, a slow, sensual rhythm that has him gritting his teeth.
The friction is exquisite against the sensitive skin of my pussy, even through my shorts.
I want him to rip my shorts off and plunge into my needy pussy until I'm screaming for mercy.
Or more.
He leans upward and takes a nipple into his mouth.
My back arches, a cry escaping my lips as my hands find their way into his hair. My hips speed up, the rhythm becoming more erratic, more desperate.
He swirls his tongue around my nipple deliciously, then bites down.
I gasp and tense as a wave of pleasure washes over me.
I'm close. So damn close.
He slides one hand down my stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my shorts, and I have to stifle the urge to beg him for more.
I want him to thrust his fingers inside me. Instead, he teases me.
Light touches that have me squirming against him, hips arching, trying to get more friction, more pressure.
He rubs my clit in slow circles.
My movements become more frantic, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
I arch my back, pressing my hips into his for maximum friction between my clit and his cock, even through our clothes.
A frustrated sob escapes my lips.
He presses his lips to my skin, and through the haze of my pleasure and frustration, I see a dark surge of pleasure.
He’s enjoying this. The bastard is enjoying this.
And the worst part of it all is that I can’t even blame him for doing anything wrong. He’s here, doing exactly what I’d expect any other man to do in bed.
But that’s the problem, isn’t it?
I don’t want any other man.
I want Nico.
And this isn’t Nico.
Well, I'm not ready to give up yet.
Abruptly, I slide off him and hook my fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs.
I tug. He lifts his hips, letting me pull them down.
His cock springs free, hard and heavy, and my breath hitches.
I look down at him, my eyes wide, a mix of fear and desire swirling in me.
His cock is perfect. I want to taste it so bad, feel the soft skin slide against my tongue, as he uses my mouth.
But I’ve never done it before.
I want him to show me. I want him to take control, take it out of my hands. Tell me what to do.
I wrap my hand around his length, my touch hesitant at first, then more confident as I start to stroke him.
My thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the interesting bead of milky liquid that has gathered there.
A low groan rumbles in his chest, sending a surge of pride through me.
At least I did that right.
He lets me explore. Lets me learn with my hands, my touch growing bolder, more confident.
But not brave enough to take him into my mouth.
Again, the ache for him to take over is a physical ache.
I stop touching him long enough to pull my shorts off. He reaches over to help me, then tosses them to the side.
I straddle him again, and his eyes sweep over me in the lamplight. I fight the urge to cover myself from his intense gaze, remembering what happened last time.
He slides his fingers between my legs, then presses one inside me.
I arch my back, and a soft moan escapes my lips as he starts to move, a slow in-and-out rhythm that has me clutching his shoulders.
His thumb finds my clit and circles it, applying just enough pressure to make me squirm.
My hips back against his hand, my movements becoming more erratic, more desperate.
I’m close again.
So damn close.
He must feel it in my body because he adds a second finger, filling me.
"You feel so good," he murmurs against my skin as I fall forward, my hair cascading around us. "So wet. So tight."
I moan, a soft, desperate sound.
His thumb continues to circle my clit, his fingers moving faster, deeper, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
I tense, my body going rigid, a silent scream on my lips as I reach the edge.
And stay there.
Dangling.
My movements become more frantic, more desperate, seeking the release I so desperately need.
But still nothing.
I try for longer, but the ache inside me grows as I stay firmly on the edge,
Nico pulls his fingers out of me, and I almost cry with the loss.
But then he's guiding me, positioning me over his cock, the head of it nudging against my wet entrance.
I hesitate for a fraction of a second, my gaze locked with his.
Then I lower myself onto his cock.
His wide head breaches my entrance, and I gasp, my body tensing.
There’s resistance, the tight clench of my muscles as I try to accommodate him.
I feel the control in Nico as his muscles vibrate. I want him to slam into me, bury himself to the hilt in one hard, deep thrust.
Instead, he holds himself perfectly still, impressively restrained, and lets me set the pace.
I continue to lower myself onto him, a slow, torturous descent that has us both groaning.
The sight of his cock disappearing into me is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. The way I stretch to accommodate him, the way I have to stop and spread my legs wider to take more, is fascinating.
When I’m finally seated, his cock buried to the hilt inside me, I stop, my body trembling, head thrown back.
He closes his eyes, a low groan rumbling in his chest as I envelop him in a perfect fit.
It feels like coming home.
The thought startles me.
Then I start to move. A slow, sensual rhythm.
I am in control.
Yes. I am a goddess who won't be tamed.
Nico's hands slide up my back, tracing the line of my spine.
I shiver and arch, a silent plea for more.
He cups the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, and pulls me down for a kiss.
It's a hungry, desperate kiss, a kiss that says he's been waiting for this as long as I have.
I kiss him back with equal fervor, my hands roaming over his chest and shoulders, my touch growing bolder with each passing second.
My hips move faster, the rhythm becoming more erratic, more desperate.
I’m chasing my release, a desperate creature on the verge of explosion.
His other hand slides down my body, his fingers finding my clit.
He rubs me in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of my hips.
"Yes," I moan against my lips. "Right there. Please don't stop."
I don’t even realize it when the “please” slips out.
He continues to rub my clit, his touch firm, his movements sure, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
My body tenses, my movements becoming frantic, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
I’m so close.
My pussy clenches around his cock, pulling a groan from him, and my nails dig into his shoulders.
Still, I whimper, a frustrated, desperate sound as it eludes me.
"Please, Nico," I beg, my hips bucking against his hand as I bounce on his dick. "I'm so close."
My body tenses, a wave of pleasure starting to build, and I start trembling as I approach the brink.
But I can't get there. Something is holding me back. The frustration is palpable as I continue to ride Nico with desperation. I whimper again, the sound a mix of pleasure and pure agony, on the very cusp, but unable to break through.
And the worst part is that it's not even Nico causing it. Not intentionally, anyway. His movements haven't changed at all, same speed, same intensity.