Chapter Twelve
Emma hummed. For the past several minutes, she’d cuddled in his arms, on top of him, not moving an inch. She registered him removing the tiny dildo, or whatever it was called, from her bottom, but that’d been it.
He massaged her back, which only confirmed she’d never ever move again. “Emma?”
“Carry me to the bed. I don’t want to leave this cocoon of warmth,” she said, not caring about how cheesy she sounded. She’d expected for ass play to hurt at first, at least, but with Nico she felt so freaking amazing. She’d never been this close to anyone in her life.
His chuckle rumbled through her. “I was thinking the same thing,” he said softly.
He hooked his arms under her legs and stood, taking her with him as if she weighed nothing, easing her on the mattress. His seed still ran down her thighs, but she didn’t care to clean up. She sort of liked it. Dirty.
He lay on the mattress then rolled her on top of him, their limbs entangled, and he finger combed her messy wavy hair. “Are you really keeping the dog?” he asked, breaking the silence.
She propped on her elbows and smiled at him. “I don’t go back on my word.”
“Yes, but that’s a big commitment. I’m sure he’d understand.”
She played with his chest, making a pattern on his washboard abs. “Yes, but Nicky needs a mom.”
“Won’t that get in the way of your chocolate Lab dream?”
“New dreams replace old ones. The important thing is to keep dreaming.”
She knew better than asking about his dreams—unless she wanted to ruin the conversation. Besides acquiring his childhood vacation home, he probably wanted more of the same: health, dating beautiful, independent women, and money. Not that those were bad goals.
She just thought—don’t, she told herself. Otherwise she’d end up no different than Linda, all heartbroken and bitter. Well, she probably was fine now, but damn it, the man left a mark on people. She’d come so far to get all she wanted and couldn’t back down now. Why am I so hung up on marriage and kids anyway? Or was Nico’s cynical attitude about family rubbing off on her?
He touched her cheek, making her look at him. “He’ll be the most spoiled puppy in L.A.”
She nipped at his finger. “I’ll probably let him sleep in my bed, so, yes,” she said, and the image of little Nicky on her bed or sofa warmed her heart. Yes, she was pathetic, and losing her father and brother might have made her need affection, commitment, more. But was she capable of change? Did she want to?
He flipped her on the mattress and kissed her neck. “The luckiest dog, too.”
Sizzling awareness heated her skin from her scalp to her toes, and she linked her arms around his head. “You’re the lucky dog right now.”
His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. “I am.”
He smashed his lips on hers, his tongue stroking hers, exploring her mouth, claiming her. Swiftly, arousal reignited inside her, roaring like the engine of some fancy car. She kissed him back, addicted to his strong hold of her. Addicted to how he took her again and again, and each time it only made her more anxious for the next time.
He broke the kiss only to lick along her neck and find her taut breasts. She clutched the linens, mewling, her legs restless. How did he expect her to keep still when he placed French kisses between her tits, in the valley leading to them, then nipped the areolae? “Emma, this time, I want to take you from behind,” he said, then shot a devilish look her way.
She knew what he meant—screwing her with the probe hadn’t been enough for him, and if she was being honest, not enough for her. She couldn’t wait to have his cock fill her every hole, for him to claim her in the most animalistic way.
“Me too,” she said, staring at him so he wouldn’t have any doubts.
The color of his green eyes shifted to a dark, dark shade, but golden flecks still sparkled in the depths of his irises. He nudged her thighs apart and slid his hand down while sucking her nipple without relenting. Oh, yes.
She undulated her hips, wanted to give herself to him so badly. Again and again.
When he flicked her clit, she nearly busted, right there and then. “You’re so wet already, baby. God, Emma. You’re amazing.”
He thrust three fingers inside her, while teasing her clit with his thumb, and she moaned, each time a strand of pleasure sending her little electric shocks—a warning of the building orgasm. “You’re close, aren’t you?”
He removed his fingers from her and sat back on the bed, and she understood the cue. With her juices dripping from her thighs, she moved around and got on her hands and knees.
She heard him hustling out of the bed and imagined he had to grab the lube. The sound of him opening it sent a thrill of excitement through her. She tossed him a glance over her shoulder, finding him positioning himself behind her. When her gaze collided with his, her belly contracted, heat coiling low at the pit of her stomach.
Raw lust gleamed in his eyes. He inserted one finger into her tight channel, the same way he’d done earlier. She parted her lips, oxygen lacking from her lungs, unable to yank the gaze away. He manipulated her hole, stretching it, and she fought the need to move, to sway her hips, to tilt her body one way or another. If she moved, she’d break the stare.
Her nipples tightened to an almost painful level. A fresh coat of arousal slicked her already drenched folds, from their fuck earlier and now. She felt it trickling down her thighs and legs, and a primal pride struck her.
Without saying a word, he added another finger, stretching her more. She darted out her tongue, licking her upper lip to entice him. Sweat poured down his face and chest, and he’d never been sexier. His face contracted, and his hard cock rubbed against her butt.
“Take me, Nico,” she said, with the intent of a female in heat.
He nudged her thighs open a bit farther and rubbed his thick head at her back entrance. Not thrusting, but teasing her, showing her how ready he was. She drew in a breath. He placed his hand on her back, prompting her to lower her back and head.
At last she broke the stare, the side of her face falling into the pillow. He lifted her ass in the air and pressed his cock into her hole. He began filling her, and an ache seared around the outer channel. It had been one thing when he’d used a probe, but now… She bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood.
“Relax, Emma.”
Nico massaged her cheeks, not moving for a moment. The feel of his strong hands rubbing her, squeezing, kneading, clutching, created fire in her belly. Her shoulders loosened, and he resumed entering her, simultaneously stimulating her ass.
A moan of pleasure flew from her mouth, and he moved inside her. She responded by gyrating her hips, to intensify his claim of her. When he began to retreat his cock only to plunge it in again, she groaned.
“You’re perfect, Emma. Your ass is mine now,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Yes. She wanted to be his—for as long as he’d have her. The thought added another notch of excitement, and he continued to fuck her, in and out, each time harder, until he found an insane slamming rhythm. She clutched her pillow, shifting her head from side to side. The friction.
The friction of his cock tunneling in and out of her caused a blazing reaction, and soon she rocked her ass into him, wanting, no, needing more. Needing him.
“Touch yourself for me, baby. Play with your naughty clit so we come together.”
She slid her hand down her body and mimicked the movements he’d made earlier, working her clit. A crazy amount of pressure built in her bundle of nerves, fast-tracking her cells. He smashed her back hole, his balls slapping against her, the scent of tangy sex and sweat mixing in the air.
Too much. It was too much. He placed his hands at her waist, his fingers digging into her and powering up his claim on her. She flicked her clit, harder, until her body contracted for one moment, and she jerked backward. After a beat or two, she shook, letting the waves of pleasure ride her. Her heart slammed against her rib cage, her breathing labored.
Soon, he followed her, and with one last plunge, filled her with a warm load. She waited until he finished, and fell on the mattress, completely spent, her eyelids heavy.
He dropped next to her, panting, and she didn’t need to see him to feel his exhaustion. “Mine,” he whispered, and she sighed—sated, happy, and unbelievably foolish.
…
“Mama.” Nico saw the silhouette of his mother strolling on the beach, and he followed her, speeding to keep up. No matter how fast he ran, he was always a few steps behind, yet she didn’t seem in a hurry. She didn’t glance back, not even once. She didn’t call his name.
She entered a lush forest, and he sped up but tripped on a fallen tree trunk. His vision blurred, and the trees moved, closing in on him. A dark smoke covered the area, and when he looked down at his feet, instead of dirt or grass, his toes touched the edge of a slimy black pool. He fell inside, the gooey liquid surrounding him. When he tried to reach for the edge, he didn’t make it in time. His mother kept walking, and someone handed him a stick. All he needed to do was hold on to it and get out of there. His six-year-old brother Marco gave him a sad smile. “Why didn’t you tell me, Nico? Why did you lie?”
His brother yanked the stick from him, and Nico drowned, the thick liquid weighing him down, his lungs giving up on him. He moved his head from side to side, desperate for a way out but—
“Nico. Nico,” a female voice called him.
His eyes opened with a start, and he jerked himself upright to a sitting position. He took a big gulp of air, his heart throbbing in his ears. Am I still alive?
“It’s me, Emma,” she said, and quickly he focused on her pretty face. A look of concern washed over her, and she held his arm, like she wanted to ground him.
He rubbed his eyes, assessing the area around him. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead. He hadn’t had a dream like that in a long time. Must have been the trip, and how much he’d been made to think of the past.
“Are you okay?” she asked in a gentle voice. She sat across from him, legs crossed.
“Yes, I’m sorry if I woke you. I haven’t had this kind of nightmare in a while.”
“What happened? You were shouting and asking for forgiveness.”
Shit. He rubbed his temples, wishing so hard the throbbing would stop. Wishing this were a dream inside a dream, and it didn’t really happen. “It’s nothing, Emma. Don’t worry about it. I’m good now,” he said, reaching for her face to touch it, but she scooted back and shook her head.
“I understand you don’t want to tell me anything about you. But now you must. At least about what caused this dream.” She folded her arms and stared at him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. If he owed her anything, it had to be the truth. She lived in L.A. and didn’t even know his brother—or anyone else from his family. Besides, she wouldn’t tell anyone. His gut clenched, and he popped his knuckles. Still wasn’t easy to talk about a subject he’d never told a soul about. “My mother’s mental health really deteriorated after my brother’s birth. She had a complicated pregnancy, and it triggered her illness. My father began acting all distant from him and blamed him for Mama’s downfall. When she killed herself, he wasted no time blaming Marco.”
She folded her arms. “He blamed…a child?”
“Yes. Not like he loved me, but he treated me better than Marco. One day I overheard him talking to a lawyer about Marco not being his real son.”
She slid closer to him, unfolding her arms and touching his knee. No sexual response arose from her hand on him, and he appreciated her support. “You mean—”
He ran his fingers through his hair. Why lie now? “My mother had an affair, and Marco wasn’t his,” he said, enunciating every word. Frustration expanded in his chest, but he wouldn’t change the subject now. Hell, he…trusted her.
A flicker of kindness sparkled in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I never told Marco about it. When I was a child, I didn’t know what to say, or how that’d impact his life. Then as adults, it didn’t make sense to cause all that pain,” he said, resolved to protect his brother from the truth. He hadn’t been able to guard Marco from his father’s verbal abuse as a child—that guilt he’d carry forever.
“Of course.”
Anger welled up in his throat, and tears prickled behind his eyelids. He blinked them back, desperate to keep going. “The truth is…I wasn’t able to protect my brother. Not against my father’s evil treatment or anything else.”
She squeezed his shoulder, then kissed it. “You were a kid yourself. I think you’re being hard on yourself, Nico.”
“Nah, I’m being realistic,” he said avoiding having to look in her eyes.
She let her hand slide down his arm until it fell on the mattress. Poor Emma didn’t deserve to be in the middle of this mess. She’d insisted, though. “You carry this guilt with you, and you never talked about it with Marco?”
“With Marco? I haven’t talked about it with anyone.” Not even Linda, whom he’d thought he trusted for a while.
“See? You care for him—you’re trying to protect him now.”
He gave a humorless laughter. “No. Now I’m trying to save face.”
“Why do you always want to believe the worst? You’re this uber-successful, loaded guy, good-looking, have it all. But you don’t share your emotions because you think by sharing them you’ll be vulnerable. Weak.”
“Yes.”
She touched his chin, forcing him to stare into her eyes. “When it’s the other way round, Nico. Expressing your feelings only makes you stronger.”
“I don’t want people to see me in that light.”
“Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it isn’t easy for you. And you know what? Guilt is worth feeding only when you’ve done something wrong. You haven’t… You were a kid, and your father failed you and your brother. He probably failed your mother too, which might explain why she had an affair.”
He swallowed. He’d never thought about it that way—or questioned why his mother had cheated on his father when their marriage had seemed perfect until her disease took over.
“You don’t have to fail just because he did. You’re much better than him,” she said, threading her fingers with his. She lifted his hand to her lips and planted a kiss on the back of it. A quick, sweet smooch that carried a promise. A promise of support. He swallowed. A promise of love.