Chapter 29 Este
ESTE
Iexpected Nico to protest when I told him I was driving us back to Wintermore, but he looked down at his sling quietly for a moment and nodded. Progress.
Of course, now that we’re in the car, I’m not entirely sure he’s breathing.
Shay and Noelle dropped Nico’s Jeep off at the hospital this morning, and, as much as I love my car, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to go back to driving Mimi the Mini after this. It drives like a dream.
“Does your Jeep have a name?” I ask Nico, who is clutching the seatbelt with his good hand so hard I can see his veins.
“It doesn’t, but I assume that’s about to change.”
He assumes correctly. I mull it over as we fly down the highway (at a respectable ten below the speed limit), the mountains flanking the road. It’s funny how much I miss being up there, when I’ve spent most of my life in a city. I’m sure Wintermore is a nice town, but I’ll miss the quiet.
“Peej,” I say finally, and I feel Nico turn to look at me.
“PJ?”
“Yeah, but spelled P E E J. It’s Jeep backward.”
“Of course it is.” When I turn to look at him, he’s smiling, and it feels damn good. “I love it, angel. But please, for the love of god, keep your eyes on the road.”
“Right. Noted.” I don’t let my gaze stray from the windshield.
“You’re a good driver, for the record. I’m just… me.”
I want to reach across and squeeze his knee, but I don’t want him to panic. “You’re handling it well. And Peej might be bigger than my Mini, but he’s got nothing on a 737. I’ve got this, promise.”
I see Nico relax a little in my periphery. “I trust you in a car, and I’d trust you in a plane, baby. It’s just going to take some getting used to.”
He’s under strict instructions to wear his sling for at least four weeks, and likely won’t be able to drive for a while longer than that. It’s unavoidable exposure therapy for him, letting someone drive him, I suppose.
As we pass the Welcome to Wintermore! Where it’s Christmas Every Day!
sign, Nico directs me to Noelle’s old apartment, but it’s easy to find.
Wintermore’s Main Street runs straight through the middle of town, and Shay and Noelle’s bakery is right in the center.
On one side, Spicy or Sweet, the bakery they operate out of and live above.
On the other, the charred remains of The Enchanted Bakery—Noelle’s old one that caught fire last year.
Though it doesn’t look so charred anymore.
Nico showed me pictures from after the fire a few weeks ago, but he mentioned they’d been chipping away at renovating. I could tell he was interested in the renovation—which makes sense, given his line of work. Maybe I can convince him to talk to Shay about helping.
Noelle’s old apartment is upstairs. Her uncle Henry and Quinn took Sloane up to the cabin yesterday to pack up some of our stuff and bring it down. I almost cry when I open the apartment door and see Amelia Bearhart sitting on the coffee table beside my Kindle. I’ve missed them.
The apartment is cozy, with lots of warm wood and fall colors. There’s also a Christmas tree taking up a big chunk of the living room.
Nico must see the question in my eyes, because he chuckles and says, “Noelle. Her whole family is Christmas-obsessed. They moved here because of the Christmas movie.”
“Is it sacrilege if I say I’ve never actually seen A Christmas Wish in the Mountains?”
“Here? Yes. But we should watch it sometime. It was Georgie’s favorite movie.” Her name rolls smoothly off his tongue.
“I’d like that,” I say, being careful not to bump his sling as I wrap my arms around his middle. He can only half hug me back, but god, it feels good.
I close my eyes, relishing in the feel of him, breathing in the scent of him. Sloane grabbed the jacket he usually wears when he takes the dogs out, and the mountain air scent clings to it. “It’s not cabin quiet, but it’s peaceful here. No beeping hospital machines.”
Nico bends until his forehead is pressed to mine. “You’re here, angel. I’m happy.”
“Charmer,” I murmur against his lips, unable to stop myself from smiling as he kisses me. “How are you feeling? Tired?” I ask as we both drop onto the couch—Nico much more gracefully than me, thanks to his sling.
“I’m okay, actually. You? I have an idea if you’re not too tired.”
“I’m all good.” Nico and I slept through most of the night last night, other than one visit from a nurse to check his vitals. “What are you thinking?”
“I thought we could order dinner and watch a movie. Have our date night, after all. If you want.” He sounds nervous, like there’s a world in which I would ever say no.
“That’s exactly what I want,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket to look up takeout places nearby.
We settle on Thai food, and I refrain from kicking off my jeans for a little while longer so I can get it from the door.
“What do you want to watch? Do you have a favorite movie?” I ask Nico as I lift my feet onto the coffee table and flick on the TV.
I feel like I know so much about him in depth, but so few of the little things people usually learn first, like his favorite movie, what flavor of ice cream he picks, if he’s an appetizer, dessert, or both kind of person.
Some things I’ve absorbed just by spending so much time around him—he likes classical music, his favorite dessert is Shay’s hazelnut éclairs, he’s a Libra who doesn’t believe in astrology, but gets pissed off whenever he doesn’t like his horoscope anyway.
“You know, I honestly have no idea what my favorite movie is. Do you have—why am I asking, of course you do. Let’s watch yours.”
He’s not wrong; of course I have a favorite. “Have you seen Fly Away Home? It’s about geese,” I ask, and Nico frowns.
“Your favorite movie is about geese?”
“Yes. Well, it’s about more than the geese. You’ll see—you’re going to love it. I should warn you, you’ll probably cry, though,” I say as there’s a knock on the door that makes us both jump. I’m already out of the habit of having people knocking on the door, and it has to be much worse for him.
I get up to get our food, and Nico scoffs. “I’m not going to cry.”
“What the fuck?” Nico says, wiping his cheeks as the credits roll.
I laugh as I wipe my own. It would be bratty to say, “I told you so,” but… “I told you so.”
“Yes, yes, as previously established, you are always right, angel,” he replies without an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.
“And don’t you forget it.”
“Never,” he promises. I lay my head on his shoulder, and he runs his fingers through the ends of my hair. It’s in desperate need of a trim. I’ve been going to the same stylist in Chicago for years, and I’m going to miss her when I… if I end up staying here.
It’s starting to feel a little bit more like when than if, though.
“Did you ever have a pet growing up? I don’t remember Br—your dad ever mentioning.” He half-stumbles over my dad’s name but doesn’t sound as guilty as he did before the “axe-ident,” as Sloane calls it.
“Nope. Pops isn’t an animal person, but Dad is trying to convince him to get a dog now that Sloane and I have moved out. He says the house is too quiet. Did you always have dogs?”
“Not when we were kids. My mom ran a home daycare and didn’t want to deal with the hair. The boys were my first. This is the longest I’ve been away from them since I got them.”
I look up, and he’s worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “Noelle’s mom texted me this morning. They’re doing well, and she’s going to bring them over tomorrow—with breakfast, apparently,” I tell him, and watch the relief settle in his eyes.
“Good. I miss them.”
“Me too, but they would’ve hated the hospital,” I joke, relishing in Nico’s answering laugh. I can’t believe that, for a while, I thought I might never get to hear that sound again.
“Hey. Where’d you go just now?” he asks, concern etched on his face.
“I was just thinking how glad I am that we’re here. That I can hear you laugh, touch you, feel you. I was so worried.” My voice cracks, and Nico kisses the top of my head.
“I’m so fucking sorry, angel. You’ve handled this all… God, better than I would have if the situation were reversed. I’m glad we’re here, too.”
When I look up, he’s close enough that pressing my lips to his is easy.
I cup his face, trying to be gentle, but Nico growls like he’s frustrated he can’t get closer to me.
I know I shouldn’t, but I kick off the blanket and straddle his waist, keeping away from his sling as much as I can.
Nico groans, and stars sparkle at the edges of my vision as I feel his cock brush against the thin fabric of my underwear.
Has it really only been three days? I think I might have developed an unhealthy addiction to orgasms courtesy of my dad’s best friend. What a shame.
He kisses me like I’m the first drop of water he’s had to drink in days, like he needs this, me, to survive. I don’t mean to grind on his lap, but I can’t help myself. Nico is gripping my ass with his good hand, his fingers biting into my skin.
“How’s your arm?” I ask breathlessly, pulling back from the kiss. “Is this hurting it?”
“Fuck no. I’m fine. Don’t stop.”
But I do stop. Nico reaches for me, trying to pull me back in as I stand up. “Patience,” I murmur, while practicing exactly the opposite as I rip off my sweater and push my underwear down. Nico’s eyes blacken.
There’s no point in my wrestling with his shirt, but I pull his sweatpants and boxers down, and he kicks them off.
This time, when I straddle his lap, he lets out a ragged sigh, his eyes closing.
I close my fist around his cock, drawing my fingers up and down and watching every muscle in his body tighten as he clings to an impressive amount of self-control.
More self-control than I have, frankly.
I lift myself and curse as I brush my clit with his cock. Nico half-opens his eyes, watching me.
“You have to promise me that you’ll tell me if your arm starts to hurt—if I jostle you too much.”
“I promise,” he says, so quickly I’m not sure he even really processed the words.
But it’s enough to reassure me. I’m so fucking wet for him that when I sink down on his cock, the movement is faster, harder than I intended. It knocks the breath out of me. Fuck. He’s so deep like this.
I place a hand flat on his chest, closing my eyes and breathing slowly as my body adjusts. In and out, in and out.
“You’re doing so good, baby. You feel so good.”
My thighs are shaking when I start moving, rocking back and forth over him. It’s as much as my body can manage. Neither of us is going to last long.
“God… so deep,” I sob.
“I know, angel, but you’re taking it so well. Such a good girl for Daddy.”
He’s hitting me in places I’ve never felt before, and I feel him all over me. Right now, like this, we’re so connected, so close. It should always be like this.
“Mine.” I let the word fall from my lips without meaning to as I place my hand flat on his chest and feel his heart pounding behind his ribs. I’ve never been a particularly possessive person, but there’s something about Nico that makes me want to claim him like how he’s claimed me.
His eyes widen, but he nods. “Always yours.”
“And I’m yours. All yours, Daddy,” I promise.
Nico’s hand flexes, gripping me so tightly that it’s possible his fingerprints might end up branded on my hips.
He guides my movements. For now, we have no choice but for me to be in control, but as he pushes and pulls me over his lap, it’s easy to imagine he’s pulling the strings, striking the match, setting me ablaze.
I spread my thighs a little, crying out as it somehow pushes him deeper. How is that possible? It’s the beginning of the end for me. My body takes over, faster, harder, riding him more erratically, and it’s fucking incredible.
Nico may only have one good hand, but he puts it to perfect use, bringing it down on my ass with a smack that makes my vision blur. I sob his name as I come, and he follows right behind me, holding me with shaking hands as he comes inside me with a groan.
I don’t move straight away. I’m not entirely sure I can move.
This was the first time with Nico that I’ve been on top, and, though his size always feels perfect in the moment, I’m not nearly flexible enough for it not to burn.
There’s a yoga studio up the street, and I might have to start going just so I’m limber enough to keep doing this while he’s wearing his sling.
I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad thing from a mindfulness point of view, either.
Maybe I could convince Nico to do it with me.
Not in class, he’d hate that, but at home.
I’m sure he’d enjoy me practicing in front of him, and it would be worth wearing pants just for him to tear—
“Angel.”
“Huh? What?” I blink, Nico coming into focus. He’s holding my chin with an amused expression on his face.
“You can’t fall asleep with me inside of you when I can barely touch you. Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
I rub my eyes and wince as I clamber off him. “I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”
“It’s been a long few days,” he says, rubbing my back. “But I’m glad we did this.”
“It was a perfect date night,” I tell him, giving him one more kiss. A chaste kiss. Because tired or not, my body could quite easily agree to round two.
Nico’s bedtime routine is a lot longer now that he can only use one arm.
I have to help him get undressed (oh no!) and squeeze the toothpaste onto his toothbrush, but I like it.
For weeks, he’s insisted on taking care of me and grumbled every time I tried to reciprocate.
I’m sure he’s not happy about letting me help now, but he doesn’t complain, and it just makes me feel closer to him.
We climb into bed, and I lean across him carefully and turn out the lamp on his side.
It’s funny how just a few weeks ago, lying on the couch until we were too exhausted to do anything but sleep was the only way we could get any rest. Now, I kiss him goodnight, snuggle into his side, and we both drift off without a question.