Chapter Three #4
Nico moved fast then, but not rough. He pushed me back on the bed, covered me with all that warm, heavy strength, and kissed me like he needed to taste himself on my mouth.
I wrapped my legs around his hips and felt him against me, thick and hot, the blunt head of his cock sliding through the wetness he’d put there.
I dug my nails into his shoulders. “Now.”
He held himself at my entrance. “Tell me again.”
“I want you inside me.”
His forehead dropped to mine.
Then he pushed in.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
I felt every inch.
I stopped breathing halfway through, and Nico stopped moving the second my body tightened.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“I’m deciding whether to thank you or yell at you.”
His lips brushed mine. “Both sound like you.”
“Move, Nico.”
He did.
The rest of him slid into me with a stretch that stole the room out from under me. My fingers dug into his back. His breath hit my cheek, rough and controlled, while my body clenched around him.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then I lifted my hips.
His control slipped just enough to make the bed creak.
Very good.
Nico fucked me like he’d listened to every argument I’d ever made and decided to answer with his body.
Deep, steady, careful until I told him not to be.
I met him every time, my nails on his back, my ankles locked behind him, my mouth finding his shoulder, his jaw, the place where his pulse jumped under my lips.
His chain slid between us, cool against my breasts. His hips drove mine into the mattress. The apartment filled with the sound of skin, breath, and Nico’s voice rough against my mouth.
“Fuck, Nella,” he said. “You feel too good. You know that?”
“I’m aware I bring value.”
His laugh broke into a groan when I tightened around him.
“You like making this difficult,” he said.
“I like making you work.”
“Then keep taking me like that.”
My nails dug into his back.
“That sounded like an instruction,” I said.
“That was a request.”
“You’re learning.”
His hand slid between us, thumb finding my clit. “I’m motivated.”
My back arched. “That’s cheating.”
“That’s service.”
“You’re not staff.”
“No.” Nico kissed the corner of my mouth. “I’m worse.”
I should’ve had a comeback.
Then his thumb circled again, and all I had was his name.
Pleasure gathered faster this time, fed by his body inside mine, his hand between us, and the rough scrape of stubble against my jaw.
The little red chili pepper tattoo on my wrist flashed against his shoulder when I braced myself there, and Nico lowered his head as my pulse kicked harder under my skin.
His mouth moved to my neck.
He stopped there, breathing hard.
His teeth grazed my skin.
Every muscle in him locked.
“Nella,” he said.
I knew what he was asking before the rest of the sentence came.
I turned my head, giving him more of my throat. “Say it.”
His voice was rough. “I want to bite you.”
Heat flashed so hard I clenched around him.
He groaned.
“Hard enough to mark?” I asked.
“Only if you tell me to.”
I owned a bar called Bite Me, had a tiny red chili pepper tattooed on my wrist as a warning label, and was currently being fucked by an actual shark man who had enough manners to ask before putting teeth in my neck.
Life was ridiculous.
I loved that part of it.
“Do it,” I said. “Bite me.”
His teeth closed on the side of my neck.
Not too deep. Not pain exactly. Sharp pressure, hot sting, a claiming little shock that snapped through my whole body and lit me up from the inside.
I came hard.
My thighs clamped around him. My fingers dug into his back. The sound that tore out of me was not polite, not quiet, and not remotely available for staff discussion.
Nico followed me over with my name against my skin and his body locked deep in mine. His cock pulsed inside me, hot and heavy, while his hand braced beside my head and his lips softened around the mark he’d made.
For a while, the only things in the room were breath, sweat, ocean air, and the distant thump of bass from somewhere down the boardwalk.
Then Nico lifted his head.
His eyes found mine.
I refused to look away first.
He touched the skin beside my neck, not the bite itself. “I didn’t break skin.”
“I know.”
“You’re okay?”
I swallowed, then smiled before I could stop myself. “You ask that like I didn’t just try to crack your spine with my thighs.”
A smile almost made it through, but his eyes stayed serious. “I’m asking anyway.”
My fingers tightened in the sheet.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Better than okay. Don’t get emotional about it.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Try harder.”
He kissed me, slow this time, and I let him because my skin was still humming and because I wanted to.
Afterward, he brought me water without being asked.
That was rude.
He also found the other half of my roasted pepper and provolone sandwich, put it on a napkin beside the bed, and looked far too pleased with himself.
I sat up with the sheet tucked under my arms. “Did you just bring me after-sex deli meat?”
“It seemed on-brand.”
“It is. That’s not the issue.”
“What’s the issue?”
“I’m worried you’re learning.”
He handed me the water. “You’re a good teacher.”
I drank because my throat was dry and because refusing hydration after shark sex seemed like how women in horror movies got a sequel.
Nico sat on the edge of the bed, still naked, broad back marked faintly where my nails had dragged. The black shark-tooth compass on his hip shifted with his breath.
My gaze dropped to my wrist, where the tiny red chili pepper tattoo curved bright against my skin.
He followed my look. “Warning label?”
“Family crest.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely. The DeLucas have been emotionally over-seasoning every room since the dawn of time.”
He caught my wrist and kissed the little pepper.
I went quiet.
Then I pulled my hand back and stood before he could make another move that felt like it belonged too close to my heart. The room tilted for one second, and Nico reached for me before stopping himself halfway.
I pointed at him. “Don’t say anything.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were thinking supportive things. I could hear it.”
“I’ll think them quieter.”
I went into the tiny bathroom and flipped on the light.
The woman in the mirror looked wild. Hair tangled around her shoulders. Lips swollen. Skin flushed. A red mark bloomed high on the side of her neck, a clean crescent with the faintest shadow of teeth.
I touched the edge once.
It should’ve scared me.
It didn’t.
It looked hot. Ridiculous. Mine.
I leaned closer and grinned at my reflection. “This beats a hickey any day.”
“What was that?” Nico called.
“Nothing.”
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
“Then your hearing is too good.”
His laugh came through the half-open door.
I rinsed my face, fixed what could be fixed, and left my hair down because I wasn’t ready to explain the mark to my staff, my mother, or possibly my own common sense.
When I came back out, Nico had put on his trunks and was buttoning the lower half of his shirt. The top stayed open because apparently he was committed to being a problem.
I tossed him a towel from the rack. “Wipe down anything you dripped on.”
“I already did.”
“Of course you did.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “You sound suspicious.”
“I’m suspicious. Competence in men is how disasters begin.”
“I’ll try to become less useful.”
“Don’t you dare.”
I changed into soft shorts and a loose teal tank from the rolling rack, then twisted my hair over one shoulder. The mark still showed if I turned too far. Fine. I owned mirrors. I understood evidence.
Nico watched me but didn’t look smug.
That gave him points.