Until Nico

“George always takes forever to get here. Are you sure you can’t come over and have a quick look?” she pouts.

“Desperate much?” I mumble to myself while tying my hair up into a ponytail. I look up at Nico, who is watching me closely with a small smirk on his face.

“I’ll see you tonight for dinner, baby. Just come here when you get off,” he says, leaning his body into my car.

“Okay,” I whisper, mesmerized by the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way he’s looking at me, and the way my chest feels every time he calls me baby in that sexy, deep voice of his.

He leans in more, his mouth touching mine. When he goes to pull away, I capture his head with my hands in his hair, holding him to me and taking the kiss I wanted earlier. He growls into my mouth, his hand on the door going to my knee then up my thigh under my skirt. My skin tingles where he touches. I feel one finger slide across the seam of my panties, causing me to gasp and pull my mouth from his. Our eyes meet, and his finger travels over the seam again, this time with a little more pressure.

“This is going to be mine, sweet Sophie.” I lick my bottom lip, and his mouth comes back down on mine in a soft, teasing touch before pulling away. He looks at me before standing to his full height. “See you later, baby.” He smiles and taps the door of my car before taking a step back.

“Have a good day. Bye, Deb,” I say cheerfully and smile. He shakes his head and grins bigger.

I back out of the driveway before putting my car in drive and taking off, watching in the rearview mirror as he says something to Deb, who looks like she’s begging him. I shake my head. I can’t blame her; I would beg him too.

I turn my gaze in the mirror to myself and smile. Luckily for me, I don’t need to beg. Then I think about everything I have been through and how much help I need, and I decide that today is the day. I can’t put it off any longer. If I want to be with Nico—and I definitely want to be with Nico¬—I need to try to fix myself.

I push Nico to his back and climb on top of him, my mouth going to his neck and my hands going up his shirt. I love everything he’s been showing me about making out. I feel the smoothness of his skin under my palms and want more, so I tug his shirt over his head before pressing my hips down, feeling his erection hit perfectly every time I move my hips. He groans, and his hands slide up my sides under my shirt, dragging it up and over my head. I sit back so he can unhook my bra. His mouth moves to my neck, nipping and licking as his hand unclasps my bra.

“You have the most beautiful tits.”

His words cause a moan to climb up my throat as his lips lock around one nipple, his free hand pulling on the other one. My head drops forward to watch him. His hand travels down my back and into my jeans, grabbing my ass and pressing me harder into him, causing me to whimper again.

“Please,” I moan, tossing my head back.

He rolls us over so I’m under him. His hand moves to the front of my jeans. The sound of my zipper being lowered fills my ears. Then his fingers press into me, causing me to lift my head and latch on to his bottom lip with my teeth.

“You’re so wet—so f**king wet. I can’t wait to sink into your tight little pu**y and have you dripping around me, gripping me tight while I f**k you hard.” This is something else I’ve learned about myself—the dirtier he talks, the hotter I get. “I want you to come for me, Sophie. I want to feel your tight, hot little pu**y pull my fingers deep inside of you.”

“Nico! Oh…God...” I whimper, my fingers digging into his arm.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” his lips whisper across my ear.

My hips lift higher; my heels dig into the bed as I shatter, my orgasm taking me into another world before sending me back to earth. When I come back to myself, I’m wrapped tight in his arms with my head pressed into his chest.

“You okay?”

I nod, listening to his heart beat rapidly against my ear. “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” he tells me sincerely.

“But you—” I start to tell him that he hasn’t gotten off. Actually, since he started introducing me to sex, he has never even taken off his pants.

“We will get to that, baby. But for now, it’s about you.”

“I want to make you feel good too,” I tell him, burying my face into his chest.

“Watching you get off makes me feel good,” he says while stroking my hair.

“I want to touch you. You never let me touch you,” I whine.

“You will one day, but right now, I need to keep my boy away from you. It’s important I take my time with you. I want you to be ready when we finally go there. If you touch me, all my good intensions will go out the window,” he explains.

“Fine,” I pout. I am happy he is giving me time to get used to foreplay and building up to sex, but I still want to touch him like he touches me.

“You’re adorable when you pout.” He smiles before kissing me. “So how was your day? Did you go to your meeting?” he asks, running his hand along my back.

“Yes.” I hold my breath.

He doesn’t know the kind of meetings I am going to. I never told him what happened to me; I don’t want him to think I’m tainted or something, even though I know it’s stupid to feel that way. I just told him that I’m going to meetings to help with the loss of my mom. I feel bad about lying, but I don’t know how to tell him what the meetings are really for.

I started going to meetings two months ago, gathering all the information that first day he called me his girlfriend, and have gone once a week since then. I like having a group of women to talk to who understand what I’m feeling, even though I kind of feel like an imposter sitting with them. The things most of them have been through make me feel weak.

“You know, if you ever want to talk to me about how you’re dealing with the loss of your mom, I’m here for you.” He hugs me closer, the ball of guilt in my stomach getting heavier by the second.

“I know. Thank you,” I choke out. “I’m so sleepy,” I whisper, wanting to get away from talking. “I’m gonna head home.”

“Stay with me.” He hugs me again, making me feel sick. “You don’t work at the school tomorrow. We can sleep in.”

I want that. I want to sleep next to him, to have him hold me and make me feel better, but I just can’t. “I think I should go home,” I repeat more softly this time.