17. Nico
Nico
She will be the fucking death of me.
It’s a good thing my son was in her arms when I stumbled upon Matilde tonight because I wanted to make her mine, vows or no vows, when I found her in the nursery looking too enchanting to be true.
The poor girl was attempting to make innocent small talk while it took every ounce of restraint on my part not to carry her into the hallway, press her against the wall, kiss her senseless, and bury my cock in her tight pussy.
I should’ve opted for a cold shower but, after waking from a fitful sleep at my desk, my muscles demanded heat. And my body demanded something more. I need to get the nanny out of my system for a little bit. Until she’s my wife anyway.
While working my cock with my soapy hand, I fantasize about it being her hand or, even better, her mouth. I haven’t had sex in well over a year, but I’ve never felt this desperate for it. Until now. Until her.
I exhale slowly, preparing to shut the water off after my cum has been carried down the drain.
And that's when I see her.
I would think I'm in a waking dream, but Matilde is really standing in the doorway… with her hand down her pink cotton panties. Fucking hell. She's touching herself. My mouth hangs open, and my cock is already twitching back to life. Is it me she imagines? No, probably a handsome boy like Primo.
Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to be enjoying the experience.
I could offer to help. I would love to help.
But she is also unaware of my plans for us.
I can't be angry over her peeping. She is curious and innocent.
If anyone's to blame for her behavior tonight, it's me.
I told her to come get a new shirt and failed to close the door completely.
I pride myself on my control and cunning.
Both disappear like a puff of smoke around her.
Once she knows she's caught, she's mortified. She flees from me like I'm a bloody ghoul when I give her the chance, just as I knew she would. She called me hateful, and I can't argue the point.
In the bedroom, I can smell her fragrance in the air. Peaches. Sweet and juicy, both soft and firm. She's like a fucking peach. Always teasing me, making my mouth water, and always just out of reach.
Grabbing my phone, I pull up the security feed, going back several minutes to see when she came in.
“Oh fuck.”
She changed in here, quickly but not quick enough for me to avoid seeing her bare back, those pink cotton panties and that raven hair. She was turned the wrong way for me to see more. I stifle an impatient huff. Soon.
Then, she went to my bureau and used my cologne.
She smells like me. She wanted to smell like me.
Her wrists, her throat, her hips. Fuck. My cock is already rock hard again.
She’s just down the hall. I could knock on her door and say…
what exactly? That I want my shirt back and let me help you take it off?
That I want to fuck her? That I’m going to make her my wife?
I do none of those things because I’m still watching Matilde on the security footage, creeping toward the bathroom door.
My heart speeds up, wanting to see more, knowing she was watching me before touching herself.
Curious and innocent. I’m going to love teaching her everything there is to know about pleasure. Just not yet.
Frustrated, I climb into bed, wondering how many more nights I'll be fucking my hand and if she could ever truly want me half as much as I want her.
***
Hours later, I wake up in a cold sweat and grab my knife, hearing sounds of distress.
The children? No. I roll out of bed to investigate, creeping down the hallway until I'm standing outside Matilde's bedroom.
It's her. I can hear her mumbling faintly through the door.
What is going on? I knock, but she doesn't reply. Is she hurt? Slowly, I open the door.
The light from the hallway spills over her bed where she's thrashing and whimpering. A nightmare. "No, no, no…" Her soft pleas tear at me.
At first, I fear she's reliving what happened earlier, that the monster in her dream is me. But jumbled phrases escape, telling me this is about her abduction and captivity. Does she have anyone to talk to about that? About any of the shit this poor girl has endured?
Logically, I know a bad dream can't physically hurt her, but seeing her hurting hurts me. It cuts me to the bone. "Matilde, wake up. You're dreaming." No response. "Please, tesoro…"
She gasps, crying out, "No!" while still locked inside her mind. I rush to the bed, pulling her into my arms. "NO!" she screams, beating at my bare chest. Her fingernails scrape my flesh until she draws blood, but it's less than a mosquito bite. I have to help her.
I rub her back, make shushing sounds, do what I can think of to comfort her.
I don't know if I'm getting through. "It's a dream, Matilde.
No one is hurting you now. Wake up. Please, wake up.
" A pitiful sob is the only response I get.
"They'll never touch you again. I swear it.
I will kill them all for you. Do you hear me? "
Suddenly, she grows still and her hands stop clawing at me.
She tilts her head up, eyes open, but she's not fully awake yet.
After forcing her to move in with me, I've invaded her room.
I'm holding her on her bed. It looks… it could look very bad.
The last thing I want is to become her new nightmare.
Her lips start to form a word, but I cut her off. "You were having a bad dream." I stand, gingerly pushing her back toward her pillow and dragging the blanket up to her chin. "You're safe. Sleep." Her eyelids are already looking heavy again when I turn to leave.