Chapter 15
Despite the many, many times I daydreamed being intimate with this man, doing it in my kitchen with the lights on was not exactly how I pictured it.
“Nicola,” I began quietly. “Why don’t we go to the bedroom? That way–”
“Aubergine.” Nicola wasn’t smiling or teasing. “Open your legs. Brace your hands on the counter.”
I held back a grunt. Why was he doing this, anyway? Mafia dons were supposed to be takers, not givers. When I still didn’t move, the impatience on Nicola’s face faded.
He straightened and hovered over me. Hazel eyes searched mine.
Damnit, those eyes were pretty.
“...No one’s ever done this for you, have they?”
The disappointment in his voice wasn’t directed at me, I knew that. But somehow it still hurt.
“No.”
“Well, why not?”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t I pull out my phone and call them to find out?”
“They’re dipshits.” He said tightly. “Which I already knew. But now I’ve got proof.”
Whatever irritation had been simmering beneath the surface was gone. Nicola looked resolved and his hands settled gently against my knees.
“Lean back,” he ordered again, firmer. “Spread your legs.”
“We...” I cleared my throat. “We literally just got here. You don’t even know where I keep the vacuum.”
His eyes closed briefly. “Aubergine, if you mention that or any vacuum one more time instead of doing what I asked–”
“Okay.” I shifted nervously on the counter. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Shyly, my knees drifted apart.
Heat flooded my face as I made myself vulnerable beneath his steady gaze. Nicola had me naked and perched on my kitchen counter, in a room that was annoyingly well lit. I might as well have had a fucking theater spotlight on my head.
If it had been anyone else in this world, I would have chickened out.
Nicola’s hand passed over his stubble as he stared. Then, he bent down. His tongue grazed over my inner thigh, catching some of the slick there, then glanced up at me to make sure I was paying attention.
My brain didn’t even know how to deal with this. It abandoned me.
“Are you always dripping like this for me?” he teased darkly.
Nnghn.
“Shut up, Nicky,” I breathed. His lips curved, and he nipped the flesh there.
“You want this, don’t you?”
I nodded with a tight mouth.
“Say it, Aubergine.”
“I want you to do this,” I whispered.
His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “To do what? Change a car tire?”
We both knew he didn’t know how to do that. I bit back a scowl.
“No.” I took in a calming breath through my nostrils, knowing what he wanted to actually hear me say: “I want you to lick my pussy, Nicola.”
A deep sound rumbled from his chest. “Good girl.”
One hand guided my thigh farther apart while the other lifted my leg over his shoulder. His warm fingers spread me apart. Slowly, he licked over me, top to bottom. It felt… warm, wet. Strange.
Without warning, his tongue darted inside me, lapping up and tasting. When his mouth left, his middle finger slid inside my pussy and I jolted. His tongue made his way back up to my clit. With slow, confident steady licks, he began to explore.
And my sanity frayed.
He licked, and prodded and teased until he found a spot that made my entire body buck and I bit back a moan.
“There it is,” he whispered with a smirk. “Your pussy is tight. But it sucked me right in.” He sank a long, thick second finger in and the stretch was glorious, my head dropped back.
Horrified, embarrassed, excited– my legs began to tremble as he licked and then sucked and had somehow found my sensitive spots without me having to say a single fucking word. I whined, a high-pitched moan that sounded foreign to me.
One of my hands slid into his hair, another curled around the lip of the counter. My hips began to rock against his mouth when we found our rhythm. His fingers were thrusting in me, timed with the circling licks of his tongue.
My nails dug into his scalp as I pulled him in exactly where I wanted him, the pace turned urgent.
“Nicola–” I gasped. “God-- fuck, I’m close. I’m so close.”
Relentless, Nicola fucked me with his fingers and while that clever tongue kept stroking, stroking, stroking…
My voice broke on his name, my hips rose off of the counter as I came. The pleasure was unlike anything else, catapulting me into another dimension of pure ecstasy.
White noise filled my ears. My pussy was tightening and spasming over his fingers that kept thrusting in me, slowing as the sensations began to fade.
My body deflated back onto the counter. I felt boneless. While panting, I stared at the ceiling in a daze.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I whispered
Nicola rose and cleaned his fingers with his mouth before leaning over me. His hand braced the counter and I could feel his hardened cock press against my thigh.
“I deserve credit where credit is due, Abs. Jesus had nothing to do with that.”
I laughed breathlessly and then wrapped an arm around his bare shoulder, lifting up to kiss him. I could taste myself on his tongue and shuddered with an odd delight.
Nicola Moretti just made me come with his mouth. In a couple measly minutes. I didn’t even think my vibrator could boast that.
Still riding my dazed high, I hooked a leg around his waist. “Get inside me.”
Nicola hesitated. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Turn guilty. Like you have to reciprocate–”
“Nicky, that’s not it,” I insisted softly. “I told you, I’ve wanted this. For a really…”
My face heated, realizing how pitiful it sounded. “Um, a long time.”
“I want to do it right. Not just a quick fuck.”
“But… I don’t need all–”
“You can wait a little longer.” His hands slowly slid over my thighs and he smiled at me. “I promise it’s worth the hype.”
Ready for a snide comeback, my mouth opened. The oven beeped.
Both of us glanced toward it.
Nicola looked back at me, his eyes widening with theatrical delight. “Aw, honey. You made me dinner?”
He tried pinching my cheek and I swatted his hand away. I sat up and grabbed my camisole, pulling it over my head and tugged it down.
“Hand me my shorts, please. I put on a thong for absolutely no reason.”
He bent, picked up my underwear and shorts. Nicola frowned as he held up the thong in the light.
“I wouldn’t say it’s for no reason. Keep wearing it. I’ll appreciate it later. Many, many times.”
I swiped them from him and smiled like a lovesick fool. “Okay.”
By the time the casserole came out of the oven, the countertop had been thoroughly disinfected.
Twice.
I wasn’t convinced I would ever look at that stretch of white stone the same way ever again.
Nicola reappeared a few minutes later wearing a plain black T-shirt and a pair of lounge pants. He settled onto the barstool while I divided the casserole between our plates.
“Parmesan on top?” I asked.
“Always,” he replied absently while he typed on his phone.
I slid his plate in front of him, and the wine glass.
He lifted his gaze from the screen and smiled at me. “Thank you, Abs.”
“You’re welcome.” I settled beside him and picked up my fork. “So, about that vacuum…”
Nicola stood when I carried our plates to the sink afterward. I clutched a dish to my chest as he approached me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, alarmed.
“Dishes.”
I blinked. “Nicky, do you really know how to do that? Have you washed something before?”
Offended, his mouth opened, then slowly shut while he tried to think. “I…” He perked up and snapped at me. “I washed one of my Dad’s cars once.”
“Punishment?” I guessed.
“Yeah. I must’ve been nine or ten.” He huffed a soft laugh through his nose. “Alright. You wash. And I’ll dry.”
We worked in an easy rhythm. Nicola continued telling me about negotiations with the Ferraros while I listened over the running water.
For a split moment, I was struck by how normal and easy it all felt. Like we’d done this a hundred times before instead of never.
The Moretti estate had more bedrooms than my entire apartment building.
He had security. Staff. Privacy. Space.
Yet every night since we’d been reunited, he came here.
Was it really me?
Or… was this little apartment simply quieter than the unending, chaotic life waiting for him across town?
When the final fork was placed into the drying rack, Nicola held his arms up like he’d just scored in the World Cup and was absorbing the crowd’s applause.
“There is no task I cannot conquer. That was fucking flawless drying, start to finish.”
“I’ve got goosebumps over here.” I pretended to fan myself.
Nicola traded out his pillowcase for a dark charcoal silk one.
“You really weren’t joking about that,” I mused.
Without looking up, he smoothed another wrinkle from the fabric. “It’s a game changer for my hair. And my skin.”
After one last pat, Nicola climbed into my bed like he’d lived there for years. His long legs stretched out in front of him. With his back against the headboard, he began quietly looking around the room with his fingers threaded together over his abdomen.
“You okay?” I asked, moving around to the other side of the bed. “Want to finish that Italian movie?”
He didn’t answer right away, because his attention settled on the small paper figures lined neatly along my bookshelf. Heat crept into my cheeks.
“I...” I cleared my throat. “I couldn’t throw them away.”
His eyes stayed fixed on them as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
I studied him from the corner of my eye, noticing his smile fade. “Aubergine.”
“Yeah?"
His gaze remained on the ceiling. “Let my lawyers help you with the alimony agreement."
I sighed softly. “Nicky...”
“You’re too proud to let me help with the money.” His voice stayed calm. “Fine.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “But you shouldn’t be working two jobs. You shouldn’t be worrying about bills. You shouldn’t be carrying your dad’s expenses alone.”
“This is how most people live,” I said gently. “It’s temporary. Dad just needs a little more time to get back on his feet.” So did Pierce. I just didn’t know how to say that.
“He shouldn’t have to worry about that either.”
“I know.”
“Then let me—”
“No.” The word came out softer than I intended. “It’s not your concern, Nicola.”
He had been careful not to put labels on this, even though my fucking closet was full of Armani suits. We weren't actually dating. And he knew it. He had no claim over me, or my problems.
He held up a palm in surrender, clearly not in the mood for a fight, either.
After a few moments, we clicked the bedside lamps off. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, across the room, over the bed.
I curled against Nicola, and rested my cheek over his heart. His fingers drifted slowly up and down my arm, that same soothing rhythm I’d done for him.
“You live in my territory. You work with my people.” His voice was quieter this time. “So… you are my concern.”
There was a hidden layer there I could coax out of him if I was feeling adventurous enough. 'Concern' meant care. He wanted to take care of me and my Dad, because he saw us as family.
“But I’m not a Moretti, Nicky. So, unless you’re planning on proposing marriage, let me figure out my own problems. Okay?”
He studied me for another long moment before giving the tiniest nod. I nestled back against his chest.
“I'm appreciative of the fact you want to help me. I really am. But I don’t want your money or your lawyers.”
His hand resumed its lazy, slow path over my arm. I breathed in the now-familiar scent of his soap, letting my eyes drift closed.
“I just want this.”