Chapter 9
AJLA
A second passed, then two more, before Nicolas hissed, his pupils dilated and his breathing choppy. "Y–Yes."
I dragged my hand over his cock, through his sweatpants, drunk on the power this entire interaction was giving me, reminding me once again how wrong I was.
I thought he wouldn't be into this. I thought he would want to have control at all times, yet here we were.
I used the words good boy just to test the waters, but the moment I saw his face, I knew, without a doubt, that he liked it.
Never had I had someone like him, so desperate for me, so eager for my touch.
Not that I've had too many experiences, but even the ones I've had were nothing to write home about.
They were nothing memorable, so I'd stopped trying.
But Nicolas… well, something told me he was everything I wanted and everything I didn't even know I needed.
Nicolas trembled in front of me, but he didn't say a word. I had no idea if it was the power I had or the anticipation coursing through both of us, but I didn't want to stop. Not just tonight, but for the rest of my life.
"Then be a good boy," I murmured, placing a kiss at the column of his throat, "and get down on your knees."
My heart hammered when he all but moaned before dropping down right in front of me, looking at me as if I had answers to everything.
My pussy clenched, desperate for him, but the heady sight of him in front of me, his cock erect, visible through his sweatpants, and the desire in his eyes made me stop myself from getting my fill—for now.
"Mhm," I rumbled my approval, bending down. "My good fucking boy."
He moaned again as my fingers dragged through his dark hair, clasping at the back of his head and making him tilt it backward. My lips skidded over his, almost kissing, but not quite yet. His own lips parted, chasing mine, but to no avail, and I knew it was driving him crazy.
One look at his hands and I could see the formed fists and the strain in his muscles.
"You don't get to touch me until I give you permission. Understood?"
"Si. Yes," he hissed out without hesitation.
"Good," I whispered, turning toward the stove. "I want you to watch me."
Looking back down at him, I almost dropped to my knees myself at the feral expression on his face. Those fists were still bunched, but he never took his eyes off me. He didn't move, breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.
I opened the drawer on my right, remembering it was where he pulled out the fork earlier, and took out another one, wanting to play just a little longer.
"Are you hungry?" I asked, not looking at him, but the scorching trail his eyes were leaving all over my body was enough—for now. "Are you?" I asked again as I looked at him, cutting through the omelet still in the pan.
"Starving," he grumbled, his voice deep, cutting through the deepest, darkest places within my soul.
It almost felt like a lullaby for the scars marring my insides, and had I known how simple words, simple interactions could soothe the razor cuts within me, I would've looked for him sooner.
I would've sold my soul to the devil just to stop feeling torn apart, between desire and duty.
Between the promises I'd made and the promises I’d broken to myself.
My lips pulled into a tiny smirk as I stabbed a cut piece of an omelet with the fork and hunched down in front of him. "Open," I instructed, bringing the fork to his lips.
Just like an obedient little pet, Nicolas opened his mouth, letting me feed him. His eyes never left mine, burning brighter than a blazing fire, swallowing me whole.
And I let him.
I let him consume me just like he was letting me do this. He was giving me power when I needed it, but I had no doubt he could take it as easily as he gave it.
His lips closed as he chewed the piece I fed him and swallowed, and unable to stop myself any longer, I pressed my lips to his, fisting the hair at the back of his head, pulling him in the direction I needed.
Our teeth clashed, the taste of salt still evident on his lips, both of us fighting for dominance, but in this game I wanted, no, needed, to be the winner.
"No touching," I warned as his hands gripped my hips, and with a grunt, he let go, letting me take control once again.
My legs wrapped around his hips, my pussy rubbing against his hard cock, and as I swiveled my hips, I earned yet another one of those grunts.
"This seems painful," I said as I grabbed his cock, hating the fact that his sweatpants were in the way. "Should I help you with this?"
"Please," he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as I stroked slowly with no real pressure. "Ajla!"
"Shhh," I shushed him with my lips, working his cock up and down until he started moving his hips. "I'll take good care of you."
His lips tried pressing against mine again, but I had other plans. Better plans he would also like.
Moving off of him felt almost impossible, but I pulled myself together before straightening up and extending my arm toward him.
"Let's go, darling. The clock is ticking."