Chapter 12 Nico #2
She grabs my hair, writhing, twisting, and shaking, and I know my pillow is going to smell like her. That’s going to be a problem for me later, but right now, I want her scent on my pillows, her taste on my tongue, her voice permanently branded on my brain.
Her legs tighten around my neck, her cries escalating. “Please, Daddy,” she begs. For the first time in a long time, I could easily come again already. I could sink inside her, give in to what we both want, and obliterate the shaky lines between us.
But I shouldn’t. I can’t.
I press one finger inside her instead, curling it and wishing I could feel her pussy tightening around my cock instead as she comes. I savor it, memorizing her cries, her shaking thighs, the way her grip on my hair loosens as she comes down, the way her body goes slack.
I don’t put her legs down right away, don’t look up right away. But when both of our breaths even out, I really have no excuse.
Este looks over at me when I lie down beside her. Her hair is sticking to her face, and she closes her eyes when I gently push the strands behind her ears.
“Este.”
She sighs, like she knows what’s coming next. “Yeah?”
“This can’t happen again.” It’s an insult to my tongue, how bad those words taste when a few moments ago, I was tasting her.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t open her eyes. Not at first. When she does, the twinkle is gone. Shit. I’m vibrating with the need to touch her, but that would just make it harder.
“Why not?”
“You’re twenty-six, and—”
She sighs dramatically. “Can we skip this part? It’s been less than twenty-four hours. I remember all your shitty reasons. I also remember how good it felt when you ignored them—both times. It’s been ten minutes. Surely you haven’t forgotten.”
Of course I haven’t. I’ll be remembering until the day I die. But I also remember how worried Bryan sounded on the phone when he asked me to take care of her. And how disappointed Shay sounded.
“I remember.” I rub my face.
The mattress creaks, and when I open my eyes, Este is sitting up, grabbing her towel. She wraps it around herself.
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t actually come in here for this.
I just wanted to talk to you. To say that I loved last night, and I wanted to do it again, but not at the expense of you running every time I walk into a room.
I’d rather we moved on and pretended it didn’t happen than watch you try and pretend I don’t exist. I know I’m already encroaching on your space, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.
” She shrugs, but I can tell it’s forced.
Shit, the last thing I want to do is make her feel unwanted.
There hasn’t been a single second since she got here that I’ve wished she weren’t here.
“So, if you want me to stop pushing, I’ll stop.
Obviously, I’m interested, and I know it’s mutual, but say the word, and I won’t bring it up again. ”
“I don’t want you to stop.” The words slip out before I can even think. But they’re true.
Este frowns. “I’m confused. You just said it couldn’t happen.”
“Because it shouldn’t happen. Shit, Este.
I want this. I want you so much it hurts,” I say, and she swallows, her frown melting away.
“But whether you care or not, I’m twenty-one years older than you.
And you’re stuck in my house. If, at any point, things went south or you stopped feeling comfortable, there’s nowhere for you to go, angel.
I just… God, I’m so fucking out of my depth. ”
Her shoulders relax a little. She doesn’t move closer to me, but she does brush her foot against mine. It’s a small touch, but I feel it everywhere.
“The fact that you’re worried about that is part of the reason I trust you, Nico. And the rest is… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain, but I just feel at peace with you. That probably doesn’t make any sense, but I—”
“It does make sense. I feel it too,” I tell her. The second she arrived, I felt it; beneath the urge to protect her, beneath the way my heart races whenever I see her bare legs, there’s something connecting the two of us.
“So. What now? You don’t want me to back off, but you don’t want to say yes.”
“I want to say yes. I just don’t want to want to say yes,” I explain, and she snorts.
“There comes a point where the self-loathing goes from kind of hot to kind of sad, you know.”
“I think the fact that you think it’s hot at all says more about you than me,” I point out.
“Touché.” Este stands, and I think she’s going to leave, but she comes around the bed and lies down next to me. “I like what I like.”
It’s as good an opening as I’m going to get, and not knowing is killing me.
“What is that exactly? I’ve been reading these books, and they’re all different enough that I can’t stop trying to figure out what you like.
” It’s the last thing I should be asking right now, and she doesn’t hesitate to call me out on it.
“You’re asking me that now, when you’ve just said it can’t happen again?”
“I guess I am a masochist,” I grumble.
She considers me, but lies back down, her towel still wrapped tightly around her.
“I’m fairly open to new things. That’s one of the reasons I like the books, actually.
When my ex and I were still together, I’d read something that sounded fun, and we’d try it.
” I regret ever opening my mouth. “But,” Este continues, thank god, “ultimately, I’m into submission.
Like complete and total submission. My job involved a lot of responsibility, and I’m also an eldest daughter and a big sister.
My brain is going a million miles an hour at all times, thinking about all the fires I have burning.
Switching off and giving up control are hard for me. ”
“But not during sex?” I ask, and she nods.
“As long as I trust the other person, yeah. Ideally, I just like to check out and let them do whatever they want to me, because I know I can trust them to take care of me, to let me switch off and make it feel good.”
It explains the way I noticed her switching off last night and today. But that implies she trusts me enough to give herself up to me. I have no idea what to make of that, but if I think about it too hard, it’s going to wipe away the lines I just reset.
I clear my throat. “So, the Daddy thing…”
“That’s just you. I’ve never called anyone else Daddy.” She shrugs, and I can’t let myself think about that too hard, either.
I force myself to look away from her, staring up at the wood-paneled ceiling. Bryan. Shay. She’s twenty-six. When the road clears, she’s leaving. I recite all the reasons this is a bad idea over and over in my head, but it’s the last one that stings the most.