38. Nero
NERO
The moment Anastasia shuts her door, I have her pinned to it, my mouth fused on hers while reaching for the little string that’ll undo this entire debacle she’s wearing.
It’s sexy as hell, but I’m sick of seeing her in it.
Seeing other men see her in it. One little tug of that string, and the dress will be a useless sea of red around her feet.
I rub my hands over her hips, feeling her.
Feeling what so many of the assholes downstairs fantasized about.
I watched her enough to know I wasn’t the only one.
I was prepared to slaughter any man she looked twice at, not that I believed she would.
Anastasia is a tightly sealed lock with a very specific combination code to reveal what’s beneath the surface.
She doesn’t give away the code, but makes a person work for it.
I’m lucky enough that she’s allowed me to figure that code out.
Hell, they should be grateful they weren’t given the opportunity to try, or else that possessiveness she claims to be uncomfortable over would rear its bloody head and start taking them out.
It’s good she can’t see inside my head and what she’s making me feel.
I move my mouth from hers, tracing a line down her cheek to her jaw where I whisper in her ear, “Yes or no?” I won’t survive if she says a two-letter word rather than the three, but I’ll respect it.
“Yes.”
My teeth scrape over her pulse, and she releases a low noise. I yank that string until the dress comes undone. A quick jerk until it’s pooled around her feet. I trace a finger over her hip, over the line of her panties and around her hip, but go no further—yet.
“Yes,” she whispers to my unspoken question. “Yes to all of it. Yes, I want you. Every way, all way.”
The power behind one little word is better than every drop of liquor in the world. She’s better than any bender or high. One little word is all it took to unleash what I’ve been concealing since the beginning.
I drop to my knees and peer up at her as my hands rub up the back of her legs until reaching her thighs, then her hips, where I hook my fingers into her panties.
“The sight of you makes me dizzy. The feel of you makes me intoxicated. But the taste of you…” A groan slips from my lips.
“The taste of you will make me drunk on a new kind of substance.”
“Nero…”
“Keep saying my name like that, and this won’t last long. I’ll take you right here on the floor and make you moan loud enough that everyone downstairs will hear.” I pause, tilting my head as the thought becomes quite pleasing. “On second thought, maybe I should so they understand.”
That you’re mine now. An inside thought only so I don’t wreck what I’ve earned.
When she remains quiet, I finish tugging her panties down. My eyes flit right to the space between her legs—her lips and the small, trimmed strip of hair—and my mouth waters.
“You’re pretty enough to drive a man wild, Petrov, but this…” I rub the back of my fingers up her leg, over her knee, and continue up her thigh until reaching the dip between her thighs. “This might destroy me. If I wasn’t on my knees already, you’d certainly put me there.”
Her hand drops into my hair, nails scraping lines over my scalp that bring a moan to my throat. She loops her fingers suddenly and grips with enough intensity that my cock hardens.
If a woman were to make me accept her control, of course, Anastasia would be the one. She’ll win for now, because I have means to break down all the ways she truly trusts me.
“That mouth is moving a lot when it could be doing so many other things.”
“Such as?” Eyes on hers, I caress until my thumb slides between her pussy lips to her clit, and she twitches. Her legs inch apart, slowly at first, like she’s resistant. “You think I need to use my mouth in order to make you come? I’ll have you drenching my hand soon enough.”
“Is that a dare?” Her brow ticks up as I circle my thumb harder to encourage those legs to keep opening.
“Depends. Want it to be?”
She won’t back down from a challenge. She’s Anastasia Petrov, and it’d go against her whole personality. My finger slides through her, gathering the wetness that’s pooling between her legs to bring back up to her clit for lubrication.
When her grip in my hair falters, her breath stutters, and I know I’m well on my way to shattering this woman. Lucky for her, being by her feet means quickly gathering the pieces up and putting them back together in a design ideal for myself.
In other words, recreating the exact same Petrov. Because the woman she is presently is the woman for me. The one I want. The one I think about all the fucking time, and as her legs part farther for me, she’s officially sealed this image of her into my head permanently.
Gripping her left thigh, I toss it over my shoulder and open her to my view. Wet and pink, she’s a dream come to life. Saliva builds with the craving to use my mouth on her. A need that supersedes every hankering for liquor.
But I’ll be winning this bet.
“Prettiest fucking pussy on the prettiest girl. Still think I need my mouth to make you come?” I press into her clit, twist my hand, and sink a finger inside her heat.
Darkness consumes her eyes right before they flutter shut. Her grip slides from my head again until she’s cupping my cheek. And then nothing, limp by her side.
“You don’t,” I continue in a low voice. “You won’t say anything because you know I’m right. You’ve done it before, so I don’t know why you think this time would be different. You came so beautifully then, drenching my hand. You can do it again for me.”
I tug my finger from her, rub it against another, and sink both back inside. She stretches to accommodate me and her hips jerk, taking me even deeper. I curl them, spread them, alternate speeds until learning what exactly earns a response.
“Now who’s quiet?” Well, sort of quiet. If we’re not counting her breathy intakes and low moans as she bites her bottom lip.
My eyes shift from her core—only for a moment—to study the rest of her. Darkening skin flushed with heat. Nipples that stand poised for my mouth later. Eyes shut and pouty lips parted.
Just when I think she’s ready for more, I add another finger.
She sniffs sharply, stiffens as her core stretches, then immediately relaxes with a low noise that I duplicate.
The fucking sight of her will never hold competition.
There’s nothing in this world—no drug, landmark, or item—that competes with Anastasia’s pussy stretching around my fingers and dripping juices I’m certain are a new flavour of liquor down my hand.
“Nero…I-I… This isn’t fair.”
“Fair?” I repeat, amused and considering.
“Was it fair when you came into my life and destroyed me? Made me unable to do or think of anything but you. Tell me, Ana, is that fair?” She clenches and rocks into me.
Hell, I’m not certain she even heard me.
“You’re dripping all over my hand. Is that fair? Who’s gonna clean up all this mess?”
“You. When you realize I won’t come like this.”
The dare darkens. She’ll come. She’ll come screaming when she does. She’s lying to both of us if her breathing and core clamped around me is any indication.
Gripping the space beneath her knee, I push her leg into the wall to force her wider, and then stand. It changes the angle of my fingers inside her, and still, testing how much she can take, I push in harder until she gasps.
And grows even wetter.
“That’s it. There she is. All that resolve, broken by a few fingers…” Backing up my words, I curl them. Twist. Thrust, and then thrust even harder until she lets out a cry. “Make a mess for me. Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.”
Her eyes scrunch, expression twists. Hips push into my hand, her cum sliding down the back of it.
Her core tightens, but right when she’s on the precipice—when she’s about to scream the level of sound I’ve been longing for—I slash my mouth against hers and swallow it.
My free hand collars her neck, pinning her to the wall.
Breathless, messy, and panting, my mouth muffles her cry. I swallow up her screams.
And become a motherfucking victor in the ongoing war.
She breaks apart from the kiss and molten-filled eyes skim up my face. Fuck, she mouths before her cheeks pinken in the gentlest most adorable and natural way I’ve seen of her.
“Look who’s the victor.” My thumb slides over her thrumming pulse as my other hand slides from her. I hold my hand up, fingers glistening with her juices, twisting and turning for the low light to catch on them. “You drenched my hand, cara mia.”
I brush them along her bottom lip until she parts her mouth, then take advantage of the opening by sliding them inside. Her tongue glides against the sweetness before sucking deeply. Lashes lay low on her cheeks before flicking up to me. She grins, then bites down on my fingertips.
“My turn.” I drop back to my knees, grab her leg again, and this time toss it over my shoulder.
I part her with two fingers and stroke my tongue over her, front to back until her ragged breath confirms she’s about to be mine in yet another way.
“God, you taste so sweet.” I lick over her thigh, skirting back to her centre, and over her core.
“You’re what I’ll bottle up and drink. I’ve always wondered what your attitude truly tastes like.
How it’d be to make that smart mouth of yours give me something other than insults. ”
“Nero…” Her hand returns to my head, loosely gripping the strands.
There it is.
I massage her inner leg as my licks cover every inch of her. I tug her clit between my teeth, dip my tongue inside her, lick her like a dog laying claim to his property. Her moans grow, and she’s twitching like crazy.
I maintain the rotation until her movements get sloppy, her grip loosening. She’s repeating my name like a song that’ll play in my dreams. Muscles twitch beneath my hands, and when my tongue flicks faster, it sends her careening straight into my arms.
Her legs weaken as she drops in my hold, but her scream echoes off her bedroom walls, reminding me there’s more surfaces to take her in, on, and against. If she trusts me enough to sleep with me, I vow to make memories atop every inch of this room. Memories she won’t go a moment without reliving.
I’ll infect her mind as surely as she does mine.
“Pretty noises for a pretty girl.” I wipe the back of my hand along my cheek, not to discard but to lick the rest of her off me. “While tasting like sugar and sweetness. Guess it’s true how the saying goes then.”
Anastasia’s cheeks darken in a manner so reminiscent of who she pretends not to be. I grab her face between both my palms and kiss her before turning us towards her bed. Once I’m between her and the door, I bend my knees and hook an arm beneath her ass to lift her.
Her room is all dark colours, mainly red and burgundy, but my attention only takes in the space for the briefest second before returning to her. Her phone is plugged into her nightstand and charging.
It’s the source of so much information.
I lay her down on the bed and step between her legs, propping my elbows beside her head to peer down. Instead of meeting my gaze, she twists her head until staring behind me at the door we were against.
“I don’t allow men to do that. You’re the first in a long time.”
I still, mentally relaying what she said. What she’s giving me.
“Why me?”
“You know why.” She blinks, but doesn’t reopen her eyes. Not right away, anyway When she does, it’s with a fresh vulnerability.
I bend my head to kiss her, thanking her, except when I go to pull away, she wraps her arms around my neck to lock me in position. She still ends the kiss, though, to whisper what might be my undoing.
“I also control all my sexual encounters—always. I’ll never give a man that level of power over me. I never let them be on top.” Her nails dig into my skin, guaranteeing I can’t get off her now. “I’ve really come to trust you, Nero. Please don’t make me regret that.”
“I won’t. I promise I won’t. I’ll prove it to you.”
I’ve taken many vows over the years. To Papa, to help him. To Zeno and the Cosa Nostra to serve with loyalty. To Serafina to protect her.
Not only does my vow to Anastasia join the others, but it’s one that stitches itself into the fabric of my soul. I feel my words deep down.
My lips trail down her cheek, over the column of her neck, and across her shoulder blade.
I lick until reaching between her breasts, tracing the curve of them until taking her nipples one at a time between my teeth.
After a moment, I kiss down her stomach.
Her skin is silk, a testament to her self-care regimen, and smells like my ever-growing craving.
“That feels good,” she whispers, and rolls her hips into me.
“You feel good,” I correct, kissing over her hips and down to her centre again. I pause, inhaling deeply. My cock strains against my pants, wanting to be released—but needing the feel and taste of her more.
I hoist her leg, opening her wide to my gaze. She’s pink and drenched, while her chest heaves with her deep breaths. “I could stare at you like this all day. You’re my every dream come true, Anastasia.”