Chapter 25: Too Sweet: Chapter 25

IT’S HALF PAST SEVEN when Nico comes home with a tall stack of takeout food. I sit at his piano, playing everything that springs to mind, tears gone from my cheeks. It’s just hair, and not the first time I lost it.

As bad as it sounds, I got used to the bullying. It hurts, but after years of suffering, I know what to expect. I cry and move on because what else am I supposed to do? Standing up for myself ends with hugging the toilet and more hurt coming my way, so it’s easier to rinse and repeat.

“Hey,” I say when Nico leans over me, pressing his hot lips to the crown of my head. “Do you always work so late?”

“Why did you cut your hair?” he counters, forcing me to scoot forward as he sits behind me, legs boxing my thighs, one hand around my middle.

“Stop starting conversations with why and what.”

“Hey, baby. Why did you cut your hair?”

I lean back, pressing myself closer to his warm body. “You can’t ignore my questions and expect I’ll answer yours.”

His muscles bunch, his chest suddenly brittle. “You’re asking for trouble, Mia. Don’t think I won’t put you over my knee for acting out.” He places his hand on the keys, adding a few notes to the melody I’m playing. “I never leave the office before six. Once I’m done there, I stop by the restaurant, Q, and all the cocktail bars I own. I’m usually home around nine.”

“Short day today?”

“I couldn’t get home fast enough. Your turn. Why did you cut your hair?”

“It caught fire,” I admit, adamant about keeping the lies to a minimum. “Candles,” I add quietly so he doesn’t hear my voice breaking. “I wanted to take a candlelit bath… I lit the candles, leaned over the tub, and puff… my hair went up in flames. You have no idea how fast it burns. It’s a miracle I saved as much as I did.”

He moves my hair to the front, looking down my blouse. “Fuck… you burned your back. Did you go to the hospital? Why are you wearing a bra? You’re making it worse.”

The song ends abruptly when I straddle him. “I’m fine. It’s just surface burn. It’s tender but doesn’t hurt, and the cream helps.” I press my finger to his lips when he goes to speak. “I’m fine, okay? It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

“I know, but you should’ve called me.”

Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against his, basking in the comfort of his undivided attention. I’ve never felt this safe.

“I missed you.”

He grips the nape of my neck, catching my lips with his. He’s a ten already. No need for pointers, but I’m not about to tell him. I wouldn’t mind if he kept practicing until the end of time. His tongue teases mine, tasting, tangling, and rekindling the ache he extinguished this morning.

Pushing his big hands under my skirt, he sinks his fingers in my hips, hard enough that an aroused thrill tingles my thighs but not hard enough to bruise. I grind into him, my panties soaked, desire like hot honey coursing through my veins.

“Good girl,” he growls in my ear, nipping the soft skin. “Do that again. Use me. Make yourself feel good.”

I circle my hips, loving the friction his zipper offers. “I want you in,” I whisper, tilting my head back as he kisses my neck.

“Cough, cough… is that what we should expect to walk into all the time?” Cody snaps us out of our lustful haze. “Get a room.”

“Get a house,” Nico fires back, but he sounds amused as he drags his hands down my thighs, looking over his shoulder. “Food’s here. Thalia sent your favorite.”

“Hell yes!” Conor cheers, rubbing his hands together. “I’m fucking starving.”

“When aren’t you?” Colt mutters, opening the boxes.

“Before we eat…” I say, and making sure the triplets aren’t watching, I discreetly grind into Nico again. “How would you feel about going away with me?”

“Do that a few more times, and I’ll let you take me wherever you want.”

“Europe,” I supply, circling my hips a little more. “My dad called earlier. Now that I jumped out of a plane, he’s bugging me to fly to Monaco. I always wanted to see the Grand Prix there, and I have a better chance of surviving the flight if you’re with me. I know you can’t leave work for long, but…” I press into him harder, his eyes hooding over. “Maybe a week?”

He grips my thighs, holding me in place. “I’ll see if I can find someone to keep an eye on everything while we’re gone.” He kisses my head, patting my hip so I’ll get off him, then disappears into the kitchen to fetch plates.

A sudden headrush hits me when I cross the room to sit on the sofa. “Figures…” I sigh, watching the first drop of blood plip into my hand.

I pinch the soft part of my nose with two fingers, making a small bowl with the other hand to catch the blood before it stains Nico’s white rug. After the eventful, stress-filled day, the nosebleed doesn’t come as a surprise. I half expected it to happen when the triplets brought me home.

Cody glances up, his brows meeting in the middle. “Shit. Another one? Hold on, I’ll grab a towel.”

Nico comes back, his step faltering when he looks at me. “What happened?” The plates clatter as he drops them on the table, rips his white t-shirt off his back, and wipes my hands. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I’m okay,” I mumble through the fabric he presses to my nose.

“Tilt your head back, baby.”

I look at Colt, hoping he’ll explain because right now, I need to breathe through my mouth, not talk, or blood will trickle down my throat.

“It’s actually the wrong way to do it. Trust me, bro. She’s doing this right. She gets nosebleeds a lot.”

“Two, sometimes three times a month,” Cody adds, returning with a roll of paper towels. “Time it,” he tells Conor.

“Way ahead of you.” He taps his watch, stuffing his mouth with chicken skewers.

“Why are you timing it?” Nico asks, stroking my thighs repetitively. “Are the nosebleeds because of the disease she has? I can’t remember the name of it.”

“Von Willebrand. We’ll have to take her to the emergency room if it doesn’t stop in half an hour.”

“Half an hour?!”

I want to weave my fingers through his hair, soothe him somehow because he’s clearly worried, but my hands are occupied. “It hardly ever happens,” I say on an exhale. “If you plan on spending more time with me, get used to nosebleeds.”

◆◆◆

My eyes pop open, my body shuddering softly under the influence of the dream. My cheeks burn as hot as the unfulfilled ache swelling within me. Muscles contract in my abdomen, my thighs tingle, the orgasm right there, so close, but so far away at the same time. I bite the pillow, unsatisfied desire driving me livid.

“What’s wrong?” Nico asks, reminding me I’m in his house and in his bed. “Bad dream?” He sets aside the laptop he’s apparently been working on while I slept. “No… good dream, wasn’t it?” He pushes his hand further under the comforter, gripping my hip to pull me under him. “You better tell me I was in it.”

I hide my face in the crook of his neck and catch his wrist to stop him touching me because every stroke of his fingers sends a new wave of desire rippling through my body.

“I woke up too soon, so not that good,” I breathe against his warm skin. “And yes, you were in it.”

I’m turning into my sister.

We had sex right before I fell asleep to Nico quietly reading Alice in Wonderland. According to the clock on the nightstand, not even an hour has passed since, but here I am, soaking wet and needing him again.

He frees his hand from my grip, moving higher, his thumb toying with my nipple. “No way I’m letting my girl fall asleep so needy. Was that the first dream about me you had?”

“No. I’ve been waking up like this for weeks.”

He smiles against me, and the embarrassment fades away, kicked to the background by overwhelming need and the words he spoke not long ago.

Don’t ever hide how I make you feel. Don’t pretend you’re not aroused when I touch you. Own it. Show me. I want to see it.

He yanks my night dress off, leaning back on his calves. I love how he looks at me. As if he can’t get enough. He traces his hands up my thighs, his touch gentle but confident.

“Touch yourself,” he says, smirking when my eyes grow wider. “I told you I’ll push you out of your comfort zone, Mia. Show me how you made yourself come thinking about me when you woke up wet.”

“It’s nothing special,” I mutter, toying with my rings. “I’d rather have you touch me.”

“I decide if it’s special.” He guides my hand until my fingers brush my clit. “You can close your eyes this once. Next time, I’ll expect those emeralds on me. Start slow, baby.” He dips his head, nosing a line between my breasts before settling back beside me, head propped on his elbow. “Don’t make me take over. Touch yourself.”

I close my eyes, circling the bundle of nerves. I’m wet, ready, and not far off an orgasm, but knowing Nico’s watching makes the road to release that much longer.

“There you go,” he says in my ear, kneading my breast. “That’s it, don’t stop. Remember the dream.” He skims his hand lower, spreading his fingers on my stomach, just high enough not to interrupt me. “Good girl. Faster.”

I up the tempo, fueled by his possessive tone. By the urgent touch of his hands. A soft moan slips past my lips, but my cheeks don’t warm. I feel powerful, beautiful—

“My girl,” Nico grunts. “Tell me when you’re close.” He nips the skin on my neck right above my pulse. “I want to feel you come around my fingers.”

“Mm-hmm,” is all I manage while my mind and body plunge faster toward a release.

The shame fades. There’s just the need to come and please him. Even though I’m the one on the brink of orgasm, he’s getting a bigger kick out of this. He wanted nothing more since day one than to have me give in to his dominance. I may have surrendered control in every aspect of our life, but touching myself while he watches is a different ball game.

“Now,” I pant, and within half a second, Nico slips two fingers inside, stroking my G spot and tipping me over as if he can’t help himself.

“Ride it,” he growls when the orgasm blooms. “Let loose, Mia. I’ve got you.”

I spasm, bucking on the bed, the orgasm hitting faster than an arrow from a bow. I don’t see stars. I see entire constellations flicker on the backs of my eyelids.

“In,” I moan, reaching for him. “Please, I want you in.”

He smiles against my neck, sucking a bit of flesh to leave a hickey. “Mine. Marked.”