Chapter 21 #2
He shook his head but was already headed toward the stairs, still carrying her, taking them two at a time, kicking the cracked door to his room all the way open.
When they reached his bed, he turned and sat on the edge so she was straddling him, his hands gripping her hair again, their kisses frantic and deep and messy.
Her need for him was like a living thing, rattling the bars of her rib cage, desperate for release.
“How many clothes are we taking off tonight?” His breath was ragged, and she shivered at the reminder that they still hadn’t seen each other fully naked—at least, not in person.
“Maybe a few more,” she said with a laugh, pulling both her linen dress and the T-shirt layered under it over her head in a single motion.
His eyes swept over her in hungry appreciation, followed by his hands—one stroking the art nouveau goddess curving around her hip and down her outer thigh, the other on the tiny stick-and-poke ship in a bottle on her rib cage—but when she reached behind her to unhook her bra, they were on her breasts before it even hit the ground.
“God,” he murmured admiringly, dragging his mouth over her, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking, sending a bolt of pleasure down her spine.
“You have the most incredible tits.” At this point in her life, all the interesting parts of her body were one standard deviation away from Just Okay, but he sounded so genuinely rapturous that she wasn’t about to argue.
She was tempted to let him do that for hours, but they didn’t have that luxury right now.
Her hands were already under his shirt, reluctantly breaking contact to tear it over his head, then pushing him down flat on the bed.
She raked her fingernails over his chest as he looked up at her, wild-eyed, before dipping down to kiss him, bare skin on skin for a brief moment.
As soon as she felt his arms start to circle her, she sat back up before he could pin her against him.
“Tell me more,” she said, rocking her hips against the ridge of his erection. “Tell me what you think about.”
“Your skin,” he said, his voice raspy, his hips moving with hers, the friction already driving her insane. “How soft you are. Those little noises you make. All the ways I want to make you come. How fucking good it would feel inside you. How hot and wet you’d get for me.”
His words made her head feel so light she was worried it might physically detach from her neck and float away.
She leaned back, guiding his hand between her legs. “Do you want to find out?” Her own voice had gone hoarse, too.
He sat up again, bringing them face-to-face, his hand slipping down the front of her underwear, making her gasp as his rough fingertips brushed her most sensitive parts.
“Fuck,” he groaned against her lips as he slid a finger inside her, then a second.
She dropped her head against his neck with a whimper.
He couldn’t move his hand much, trapped between their bodies, but her hips rose and sank back down almost of their own accord, riding his hand, gradually setting a rhythm, the angle of his curling fingers sending sparks across her vision.
“Oh my god,” she groaned, clutching at his shoulders. “Niko…”
“I want to taste you so fucking badly,” he murmured into her neck, gathering her hair to the side, sucking at the tender spot behind her ear and making her feel like all her bones had turned to jelly.
“Please,” she gasped. “Please.”
He withdrew his fingers and gripped her hips, dragging them both all the way onto the bed, their movements frantic and clumsy, until he was lying flat, legs straight. He continued to nudge her hips forward, and she obeyed, crawling so her knees were on either side of his head.
“I guess you’re going to have to do the talking now,” he said, a wicked glint in his eye, before pushing her underwear aside and pulling her down flush against his face.
Merritt gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily as he licked a hot line down the center of her, her knees going weak as she fought to keep her balance, too far from the headboard to hold it.
“Do you know what a tease it was,” she said, once she had enough breath to speak, though it was hard to stay focused while his tongue was doing that, “to see that gorgeous cock and know I could never have it?”
He groaned underneath her, and she felt it through her whole body.
“I’ve fantasized about fucking you every way there is,” she continued, delirious, barely knowing what she was saying.
“I want you to fuck me so hard we break your goddamn bed. It was all I could think about the first time you brought me up here. I feel like I’m going crazy from it—ahh! ”
He was fucking her with his tongue now, his nose rubbing deliciously against her clit, one hand coming up to pinch her nipple, the other out of sight behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder to see it was on his straining erection—not stroking, just gripping like he was trying to keep it under control, keep his focus on her.
She wasn’t going to let that happen this time. She had fantasies of her own, after all.
Even as that familiar, insistent pressure started to wind tight in her core, she lifted onto her knees, breaking contact.
At first, he had a concerned expression on his face, but then he propped himself on his elbows, watching as she repositioned herself on her side, parallel to him, eye level with the bulge in his pants, and his eyes grew heavy-lidded.
Slowly, with the anticipation of unwrapping the present she’d saved for last, she undid his belt, the button on his fly, his zipper, sliding her hand into his shorts, both of them inhaling sharply when she was met with smooth, hard, hot skin.
He lifted his hips, helping her push his jeans and boxer briefs down to his thighs.
She gave him an experimental stroke, his foreskin easing the movement, and he jerked, letting out a desperate moan, gripping the comforter.
His reactions only got louder as she ran her tongue across the sensitive head, then closed her lips around it and sucked.
She fucking loved a man who was vocal in bed, who wasn’t too self-conscious to let her know exactly how she was making him feel.
“If you keep doing that,” he groaned, “I’m not going to last very long.”
“Good,” she said, shooting a feverish glance back at him, “because we don’t have very long.”
She returned her attention to his cock, squeezing the base as she took him deeper, making him swear.
She felt his hands at her hips, finally tearing her underwear all the way off, pulling her toward him until they were both on their sides, facing each other, his head sandwiched between her thighs again.
This had never been one of her favorite positions—it reminded her too much of being in high school, trying to get everyone off as fast as possible in a way that almost felt mechanical rather than enjoyable. She wasn’t much of a multitasker.
With Niko, though, it was sensory overload in the best way possible.
His eager mouth, accompanied now by his fingers, bringing her to the brink again almost immediately.
His salty, earthy taste, her own mouth full of him.
His groans from every lick and stroke, vibrating through her entire body in turn.
He came first, with a helpless noise, spilling into her mouth, his whole body tensing like he couldn’t hold out any longer—but she’d barely swallowed before he had her crying out, too, pumping his fingers inside her, sucking on her clit, her orgasm crashing over her so hard she felt like she was on the verge of tears.
She rolled onto her back, dazed, and they both lay there silently for a moment, breathing heavily, heads pointed in opposite directions, his hand lazily stroking her thigh.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way about someone—so fucking infatuated that everything they did felt like they were the first people to ever discover it.
I want to ruin him for everyone else.
The thought flashed across her mind before she could stop it, chilling her to the bone.
She pushed it away and craned her head to look at him. Without breaking eye contact, he kissed the inside of her thigh.
“You don’t have to leave yet, do you?” he said, his mouth still pressed against her, breath warm on her skin.
The answer was definitely yes, but she felt herself shaking her head as the two of them slowly made their way upright, readjusting their clothes, pausing to meet in the middle, leaning in for a slow, tender kiss.
When Merritt reached for her underwear, Niko already had his hand closed around it.
“Mind if I keep this?”
She couldn’t conceal her own grin. From someone she was even slightly less into, it might’ve made her cringe, but instead, her heartbeat pulsed between her legs. “Sure. You’re going to have my whole wardrobe soon, though. You never gave me back my shirt.”
“Oh, sorry,” Niko said, tucking the piece of fabric casually into his pocket before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and going to his dresser. “I keep meaning to.”
“Sure.”
He pulled open a drawer, where she saw it folded close to the top, and stretched his arm out to hand it to her. “Here you go, kávoura.”
She closed her fingers around the shirt, taking it from him. It smelled like his laundry detergent, and she wondered how many times she could wear it before it faded. “What does that mean?”
“Crab.” He settled next to her on the bed, both of them leaning against the headboard, shoulder to shoulder, and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.
She laughed. “I’ve been called worse.”
“It’s not an insult. I always thought they were pretty cute. Once you get past the claws.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, sinking against him. “There’s this Greek children’s song, ‘Ta Kavourakia.’ My grandmother used to sing it to help me fall asleep.”
“How does it go?”
He shook his head.
“Come on,” she pleaded. “I sang for you. Under very similar circumstances, if you recall.”
“You already used that to get me to show you my sketchbook,” he reminded her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You can’t cash in on that one forever.”
“Maybe it could be your talent for the pageant.”
He threw his head back and groaned. “God. I already forgot about that. I’d rather get up there and do what we just did than sing in front of a crowd.”
She laughed. “I mean, I would definitely call that a talent. If that’s on the table, they might as well embroider the sash for you right now.”
He glanced at her in sudden alarm. “Wait. If you’re a judge, isn’t that, like…I don’t know. Cheating?”
“It’s a small-town fundraiser, not Mr. America. I don’t think there are any fully objective judges on that panel. Susan’s judging, and her literal husband is competing. When you win, it’ll be fair and square.”
He was quiet for a long moment, long enough that she tilted her head up to look at him and saw that strong brow knitted in thought. “If I do the pageant,” he said, “would you think about going to LA? Recording with…what did you say her name was?”
Merritt blinked, stunned, sure she’d misheard. She’d brought it up in passing to him during their picnic the day before, the invitation never far from her mind, but they’d moved on from it quickly.
“What?”
He shrugged with the shoulder her head wasn’t resting on. “I dunno. Since I’m about to do something that scares the shit out of me, maybe…maybe we could be in it together.” He glanced at her. “You said she’s young, right? Like you were when you started?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“You could probably really help her. With everything you’ve been through. Not a lot of other people out there who know what that’s like.”
Merritt looked down at her hand, rubbing absently over his bare chest.
He was right, obviously, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t been haunted by the same thing. That was part of the reason she hadn’t outright turned it down yet.
“Wait, what do you mean if you do the pageant? You already agreed!”
He raised his eyebrows. “I can un-agree.”
Merritt laughed. “You would never.”
“I’m leaving, remember? I don’t care about my reputation anymore. I’ll let everyone down. Just watch me.”
She stretched her arm all the way across his chest, pulling him close, until they were nose to nose. “I think that’s the only thing you’d rather do less than sing onstage.”
He cupped her jaw in his hand, nudging her lips to his, but when he pulled away, he was still looking at her expectantly. Clearly, he wasn’t going to let this go.
She considered brushing it off with an “I’ll think about it,” and she knew he wouldn’t push it further if she did—but to her surprise, there was a strange release in her chest. Gratitude, maybe, that someone had finally given her permission to say yes, after a decade of no.
Someone she knew cared deeply for her, someone she could trust wasn’t just motivated by their own self-interest.
She’d felt a similar sensation when she’d picked up her guitar again at his coaxing: a tendril of green breaking through ground that had long seemed parched and barren.
“Okay,” she said, reaching out her hand. “Deal.”
His eyes went wide with surprise, but for only a moment before he wrapped his hand around hers to shake.
She pressed their joined hands to his chest, pushing herself upright. “Well, if you’re not going to let me hear your little crab song, I should probably go.”
He caught her wrist and pulled her back against him, burying his face in her hair. Softly, he began to sing to her in Greek, a lilting folk tune at a brisk tempo.
She closed her eyes, letting the song wash over her as he stroked her hair.
She felt suddenly connected across time and space with tiny Niko, parentless and terrified in an unfamiliar country, soothed to sleep by this same melody.
Unexpectedly, tears sprang to her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away.
“What does it mean?” she asked quietly, when he was done. His hand moved from her hair, and she heard him scratch his jaw.
“It’s something like…two baby crabs are crying on the beach. They’re crying because their mother’s gone. She abandoned them to go party with a fish in another town.”
“Naturally.”
“Then the father crab comes home, and the house is a mess, and he’s really worried because he can’t find his family. So he sets sail after her, leaving the baby crabs still crying there alone.”
“Wow,” Merritt said. “That’s pretty upsetting. You said this is a children’s song?”
“Well, what about the one about the baby falling off the treetop?” Niko said, a little defensively. “That’s upsetting, too, you’re just used to it.”
She laughed, pulling him in for a final kiss, then a final final kiss, dragging herself reluctantly out of his arms a few minutes later.
This time, she had a text from him waiting for her before she even got home.