Chapter 12 – Nicole
Cristiano cradled me as if I were the most precious thing on earth. I sighed contentedly under his weight, letting the evidence of our collision mark us a little longer. But there was no forgetting the sticky mess we’d created.
I brushed my fingers up his spine, and he tensed when my hand ran over the mask. It was torn at the eye opening from earlier when he’d used his mouth. And it wasn’t like we needed it now.
We both knew his secret.
But I let him pretend a little longer. Hope of more with him warred with the fear that he would dismiss us the moment the game ended.
I have to find out, one way or another.
“I think the shower is calling my name,” I whispered, not daring to speak any louder in the silent aftermath. “Want to join me?”
Cristiano nodded slowly. He pulled back, and a rush of hot liquid leaked from my legs. It was just as sticky as the frosting coating our bellies. I clapped my thighs together, cheeks flaming hotly.
“Don’t.” He gently tugged at my knees. “Don’t ever feel embarrassed about what we do, angel.”
It was another promise. He spoke of the future, as if it belonged to us. I clung to that dream, and with a nod, let my legs fall back open. He drew the tip of his finger around my entrance, studying the result of our newest holiday tradition.
I wasn’t on any kind of birth control. Irresponsible?
Probably. While the chances of me, with my irregular cycles and scarred uterus tissue, made conception a slim possibility without intervention, I secretly loved the idea of starting a family with this monster.
A house of our own, filled with black-haired, blue-eyed fiends waking us up to open presents—it was real enough to make me sob for joy.
Still, the right thing to do was give the guy a heads-up.
The words stuck in my throat, and I could think of a logical way to force them out.
In the silence that passed, Cristiano rose, shucked his pants, and reached out a hand. Gazing up at him in all that naked glory, with only the flimsy mask pretending to conceal his identity, I sighed happily.
Bigger conversations could wait a few more minutes.
I slid my hand in his, and moments later, we were standing in the shower. He pulled me to the side, testing the spray until he deemed it was warm.
I wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck. “You can’t wash your hair with this thing on,” I teased gently.
Cristiano dropped his forehead against mine, tightening his arms around my waist. “Can I tell you a secret, angel?”
I probably already know it. “Of course.”
He hesitated. “I’m scared.”
That was not what I was expecting.
It made my own reluctance feel loads better.
I twisted in the water, swiping my palm over the remnants of frosting and washing the sugar down the drain. “Big, bad monsters who break into people’s houses looking for souls to steal aren’t supposed to be scared.”
I was trying to make light of the situation, but his unnatural stillness made my heart thump loudly against my ribs.
“I’ve only ever been scared around you, Nicky,” he whispered.
Pressing my lips against his chest, right where I’d drawn the promise in icing not thirty minutes ago, I let my own heart ache for this man. This fighter. This boy from the wrong side of the track was miraculously back in my life.
Exactly where I was going to keep him.
If we were both nervous about bringing this relationship into the light, we could do it together.
“Tell me,” I urged softly.
With a sigh, Cristiano let free his confession. “I’m scared that if I take off the mask, the magic will leave.”
I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood. Better that bite of pain than to laugh at his. It mirrored my own! I didn’t have anything to be worried about. That was the most incredible thing he could have said.
“You crave the dangerous stranger, the Christmas nightmare who chases you through the dark,” he continued, voice filled with vulnerability. “What if the man behind the mask isn’t enough?”
“Tino,” I said sharply, and he stiffened at the nickname I only ever used for him. “I’ve known who you are since that first night. My body—my heart knew it was you, even before the realization clicked into place.”
I reached up and gripped the mask between my fingers. Slowly, I pulled it over his head. He didn’t fight me. Didn’t resist.
“I might have had dark, delusional ideas about stalkers and strangers chasing and fucking me in the dead of night.” His hard face stared down at me, visible and free of the black material.
“But I’d like to think I’m not insane enough to let just anyone do that to me.
You fulfilled my darkest fantasy,” I murmured, rising to the tips of my toes and placing a kiss on that hard jaw.
“And I’ll tell you a secret of my own—you can put the masks back on at any time.
But this?” I kissed the other side of his face.
“This is real, you and me. It’s time to stop hiding and face reality.
We’re back together, and I’m not running. ”
With that, he swept me into his arms. My feet dangled in the air as he held me.
“Fuck, Nicky, I’ve missed you so much,” and with that, his mouth finally crashed against mine.
Our first kiss. The step we’d been robbed of as kids, when our futures were torn apart. The simple act we’d been denying ourselves while playing our dark, sinful games. We embraced it now, devouring one another with the fervent press of our lips.
I shivered in his arms, dangerously close to confessing how much he meant to me.
Cristiano moaned into my mouth, sliding his tongue against mine. He pulled back, breathing hard, those fierce, dark chocolate eyes—nearly black with his desire—devouring me all over again.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me, Nicky?” he panted. “How I can’t work or eat, or hell, even sleep without you invading every thought?”
“Shut up and show me,” I demanded, wrapping my legs around him.
He paused only long enough to adjust his cock, pressing it between us, before he crushed me against the shower wall. My response was instant. My nipples hardened. My pulse quickened. I took short, shallow inhales as his mouth ravaged mine with hungry kisses.
But it wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough.
Cristiano pulled his hips back, nudged his cock against my entrance, and sank into me, filling me to the hilt with that thick, gorgeous shaft.
I tapped his shoulder three times.
He froze.
“We should probably discuss something,” I murmured against his lips.
“Unless it’s about taking this to the bedroom, I don’t want to hear it,” he growled.
I huffed, fighting to assemble the words.
“I never went to the doctor and got on the pill. I meant to, but there was so much to do. And then the other night, I didn’t have a condom when I tied you up.
I figured I would grab something from the pharmacy, but I didn’t.
Please don’t be mad, Tino! I should have told you, and—Uff! ”
He thrust deep. “Stop talking, Nicky.”
“Tino,” I moaned as his mouth kissed a line down my throat. “I might not even be able to get pregnant, but that’s a big, life-altering circumstance if I do.”
“I. Said. Stop.” He punctuated each word with a hard snap of his hips. “You’re mine. It doesn’t matter.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. The moment I relaxed, the release rushed to the surface. Cristiano must have felt it, because with a purely animalistic growl, he nudged my cheek, found my mouth, and kissed me hard.
The orgasm was blinding. My monster swallowed every cry, fucking me through my own climax, before he stiffened and emptied himself inside me with one final, powerful thrust.
We stayed wrapped together for a couple of minutes, letting the hot water spray down on us. Then, ever so gently, he lowered me to my feet. We took turns with the soap, scrubbing the bubbles over one another, and silently memorizing each other’s bodies.
I doubted a lifetime would be long enough for me to get over the beautiful sight that was this man.
His muscles spoke of power. The scars and fading bruises told the tale of a hard life.
Cristiano would always be fighting. Whether it was in the underworld or the ring, he was built to withstand storms. But so long as I was one of the things he fought for, I didn’t mind one bit.
Once we were tucked in bed, snuggled close, I let the snow fall outside, burying us in a blanket of warm promises strong enough to withstand any blizzard. It was officially the best Christmas Eve in my short life, but I made a wish for the next to be just as good, if not better.
***
Santa Claus must not have heard my wish. Maybe he couldn’t find my house in the snow. Or maybe fate was just that cruel.
I woke with a start. The spot in the bed next to me was cold. My monster was gone. Leaping out of bed, not pausing for a robe, I dashed through the house.
“Tino!” I hissed.
Nothing stirred, not even a mouse.
The sky outside was purple and blue, the sun rising and ready to peek through.
“Cristiano!” I shouted, just a little bit louder.
The silence mocked me with a resounding echo, as loneliness chilled my veins. I dashed to the living room, tidy and neat, then sped to the dining room where not a spot of frosting remained. His clothes were gone, mine picked up, too.
The house was empty.
He said so many pretty things, made me believe. Only to slip back into the dark, taking the promise of light with him. That was what happened. It didn’t matter what I wanted to believe.
The evidence was there: the monster left.
Merry Christmas to me, my soulmate was gone. The tears started falling as I hurried to the back door. It opened with a frosty groan, the hinges protesting and the wood ice cold. I stared outside, where the back path was cleared. There weren’t even footprints to prove my monster had been here.
The tears started falling as I shut the door with a bang. A holly jolly Christmas my ass, December Twenty-Fifth was just another lonely, depressed day. I trudged back to bed and silently wept. No presents for me, not even the chance of a long winter’s nap.
When would I learn that the holiday cheer was only for good girls who did the right things?
Not rebels who dreamed. The New Year was coming, and it was time to change my game.
I gave myself an hour to wallow before I dressed and paced back downstairs, prepared to face the future, where I got my act together.
I debated shoving the artful cookies in the trash, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
So, I texted the socialite that she could pick up her order, and I vowed to make it my last act of creativity, a funeral for my dreams.