His Queen: Chapter 12

Nicoli knocks once and doesn’t wait for an answer before he opens the door and walks in, his eyes sweeping over the room before finally resting on me. My heart hammers against my ribs, my pulse racing as his energy fills the room. His presence is unmistakable, thick and consuming, while uncertainty sings in my blood, wondering what he’ll do because of my lie. It thrills me.

“Your office is a mess,” he says as he struts inside.

“I prefer to call it organized chaos.”

“What is all this?”

I breathe and take in his expression. Now that Leandra has somehow peeled the thick layer of denial off my eyes, I can see it. “You know,” I say, not taking my eyes off him. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?”

He doesn’t even try to hide it. “I did.” He sits opposite me, straightening his tie while his blue eyes pierce through me. “I knew you’d be too stubborn to do as I said.” A smile tugs at the edges of his lips. “It’s one of the reasons I love you, Hummingbird. You make my life…interesting.” His voice is calm, but the warmth of his words settles in my chest like honey.

“I wouldn’t dare to make your life boring.”

“Of course not.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugs. “Just like I knew you’d be too stubborn to do as I say, I also knew fighting about it with you would have done me no good.”

“So, you decided just to let me do it even though you don’t approve because you tried to avoid a fight?”

The way he watches me, his gaze set on mine, eyes unblinking, a thought pops into my head. And his silence confirms it.

“Oh, my God,” I huff, falling back in my chair. “It’s you. The roses. You’re behind it, aren’t you?”

He simply smiles, and I can’t help but break into a wide grin myself, even though I should be furious. “You sneaky bastard.”

“You want an apology?”

“Oh, please. I know better than to expect an apology.”

“Good.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Let me think.” He settles back, placing one leg on top of the other. “There’s the bridesmaid dresses.”

“What about them?”

“There’s a slight chance they might all be the wrong sizes. Oh, and then there’s the traces of salmonella in the tiramisu.”

I smirk. “Tiramisu isn’t on the menu.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not. I would know because I did the menu…Oh, my God, you’re sabotaging the dessert.”

The mischievous grin on his face is both sexy and arrogant.

“Salmonella?” I blurt in disbelief. “Don’t you think that’s taking shit a bit too far?”

“Not when it comes to you, no.”

“You can kill someone.”

He licks his lips, not a trace of concern on his too-damn beautiful face.

I get up and walk to stand before him, settling back against my desk, gripping the edge. “So, your plan was to sabotage the entire wedding, and what? Get me fired?”

“Exactly.” He nods, visibly chuffed with himself.

“Do you care that you’ll be ruining the most important day in a bride’s life?”

“I do not,” he replies with zero remorse.

“And I guess while you’re planning on getting me fired, you don’t care about crushing my dreams in the process? Break my confidence and destroy my reputation?”

He bites his bottom lip, the first sign of emotion he’s shown since he walked in here.

I slant my head to the side. “Don’t tell me that never crossed your mind.”

“I told you not to accept the project.”

“Yet you failed to say why.”

“It’s too dangerous?”

“How?” I throw my hands in the air. “How is planning a wedding too dangerous?”

“The Carrington-Winslow wedding isn’t just any wedding.”

“What do you mean?”

Silence settles heavily between us, and I watch as he vigorously rubs his fingers along the rough growth of his five o’clock shadow. “They aren’t normal people,” he finally says, eyes locked on to mine. “That guest list you’re working on has names of notorious criminals who have their heads right up Satan’s asshole, and you think I’ll let you be anywhere near there? The Winslow family, they have connections to some very dangerous individuals.”

“Sounds like another family I know.”

“All I want to do is protect you, Mira.” His tone’s a sense of earnestness, almost a tenor of desperation that constricts my heart.

He stands, eyes glaring with fiery intensity, his size a menacing shadow that towers over me. I’d shiver in fear if I were anyone else, but the authority that seeps from his pores doesn’t scare me. It excites me. Turns me on.

With a shallow breath, I keep my gaze locked on his as he steps closer, leaning down and placing his hands on either side of me. “I’m going to say this as simply as possible.” He licks his lips as if he’s an animal with a taste for blood. “I do not care about ruining the dream weddings of a thousand blushing brides. I do not give a fuck if two hundred guests die of food poisoning as long as I. Protect. You.”

My breath hitches, and he leans even closer, his eyes boring into mine with a heat that spreads from my throat to the back of my neck. His hands cage me in, leaving no room for escape even if I wanted to. All I can do is stare up at him as the intensity of his gaze burns through to my soul.

“I made you a promise before, to love you with all that I am, every day for the rest of my life,” he whispers fiercely, his lips grazing against mine. “Here’s another promise I can make you.” He brings his hand up to my throat, easing his fingers around it, fingertips brushing across my skin. “I promise you that I’m going to piss you off over and over again, make you angry, and I might even make you cry because you aren’t always going to like the lengths I will go to in order to protect you. But even if you beg me, plead to me with a thousand glimmering tears in your eyes to stop, I won’t. You know why?”

I swallow hard, barely able to take a shallow breath as he presses his thumb against my jaw.

“Because you’re too important to me.”

My heart thunders against its confines as I take in the sheer force of his will and determination aimed squarely at protecting me always. It invokes a jolt of fear through my veins that simmer with a threat to burn. But it’s not just any kind of fear; it’s a deep and primal terror that excited every nerve ending in my body. There’s no way of understanding it, the pleasure behind the adrenaline rush coursing through me as I stare into the blue depths of my husband’s soul. The way his fingers tighten around my throat only heightens the excitement, intensifying every sensation threefold, desire pooling between my thighs.

“You understand that, Hummingbird? You’re too important to me to let anything bad happen to you,” he growls. And as if he can sense the swirl of darkness stirring within me, he tightens his fingers until I’m barely able to take a shallow breath.

“Do you. Understand that?”

“Yes,” I choke out in a whisper.

“Good girl. Now, how about you get on your knees?” he rasps, but instead of allowing me to obey, he makes me yield by forcing me down in front of him as he keeps his grip tight on my throat. Fear and pleasure blur together as they become one and the same, slicking my arousal between my legs. It’s a force much too powerful to be denied.

“Take out my cock, baby,” he commands, his words vibrating through my core as I obey without a second thought. I reach out and pull down the zipper of his pants, fumbling with shaking hands until I finally free his length. The sight of glistening precum sends an insatiable need through my core.

“That’s it,” he groans as he lets go of my throat and watches me intently as I wrap my fingers around his length. “Look at me,” he demands, and I flick my gaze up to his, gasping when he lightly presses the blade’s tip against the side of my face, slanting his head as he stares down while biting his bottom lip. I didn’t even realize he had it in his hand.

With a slow, subtle drag of the sharp tip downward, I know he’s tracing the scar hidden beneath my make-up—a scar we both know is there. The cold steel makes me hyperaware of the cruelty that lays thick on its smooth edge, its violent intentions branding my skin with its blade. It’s a shivering excitement I can’t describe, something I’m powerless against.

He slides the knife gently down my jaw, then applies the slightest pressure as he nudges the tip deeper into my skin, forcing my chin upward. “Pull your pants down to your knees. I want to see you touch that pretty pussy of yours.”

Unzipping my jeans, I hook my fingers into the sides, sliding them down while his hard cock is inches away from my face.

He leans back slightly, gazing down between my legs and licking his lips, all the while keeping the blade in place. “Good girl. Now take me in your mouth.”

I do as told, but the blade digs deeper into my flesh as I inch forward, causing me to hiss. But he doesn’t pull it away. Instead, his eyes search mine, silently looking for a sign that I’m not okay with this. But I am. I am disturbingly yet utterly okay with whatever the fuck this is.

The moment I wrap my lips around his cock, he sucks air through his teeth and moans when I take him in fully. It’s electric and intense, tasting him on my tongue, licking his tip and sucking his shaft.

“Touch yourself,” he demands gruffly. “Play with your pussy while you suck my cock.”

I hiss when my fingers brush my clit, the bundle of nerves swollen and sensitive. I’m barely able to touch myself, already halfway to orgasm. My own desire to come urges me to suck him harder, faster.

“You better take it easy, Hummingbird,” he growls. “We don’t want this knife to slip because you were too eager to make me come.”

A long sigh escapes me when he grasps tightly onto strands of my hair to help guide me at an even pace. Slow, steady, deep. That’s the rhythm he wants from me. I can feel how taut he is, tension radiating off him as he struggles to keep control, and that fuels me to give him more pleasure because I want to see him unravel. I want to see his controlled tether snap and know it’s because of me—because of what I do to him. A sense of power courses through me even though I’m the one on my knees with a knife against my throat.

“Finger yourself.”

I push my shoulder downward, reaching my entrance and slipping a finger inside. My thighs quiver, my core at the edge of exploding into waves of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he growls, forcing himself so deep he hits the back of my throat and has me gagging around his cock, tears stinging my eyes. He pulls the blade away, and I find myself needing it back—needing its constant reminder of fear to keep this feverish moment alive. But I’m gasping for air, choking on his cock, his heavy pants and primal groans setting fire to my insides.

“I’m going to come in your mouth, but you better not swallow. Understood?”

I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek, and Nicoli now has both hands in my hair, hips pistoning as he fucks my mouth.

Cum shoots to the back of my throat, and I can hardly stop myself from swallowing. It’s too much, bursting out the corners of my lips when he abruptly pulls out and sinks to his knees in front of me, slamming his mouth against mine while forcing his hand between my legs, fingers clamping down my clit.

I’m moaning, trembling, his tongue sweeping against mine, kissing me while his cum is still in my mouth, licking and lapping around every corner, and my arousal reaches a new kind of intensity that’s threatening to tear me in half.

Cum spills from our kiss, and Nicoli rams two fingers inside my weeping cunt, as deep as he can, scissoring while fucking me, the sound of my drenched pussy being wrecked by his hand thrumming through my office. My hips rock, slamming against his palm as sensations build into a climax.

He breaks our kiss, ribbons of cum threaded between his lips and mine. “Come for me, Hummingbird,” he orders, thrusting those fingers deeper until I scream out my release, my body shaking into oblivion. Nicoli doesn’t stop finger fucking me until he’s satisfied he’s milked every last ounce of pleasure out of me.

I wince as he pulls his fingers from my pussy, then brushes hair from my face with his soaked fingers as I try to catch my breath.

I look up at him, reaching out and wiping at the cum smeared below his bottom lip. “I knew the two of us would be magic together,” I whimper. “But I never could have imagined it being this powerful.”

“We’ve loved each other all our lives, Mira. It was bound to be a force neither of us can withstand.” Nicoli pulls up my jeans, deftly fastening them with minimal effort, my chest swelling as my love for him consumes me.

“I love you,” he says, cupping my cheek. “But I need you to understand this. You’re going to withdraw from the Carrington-Winslow wedding.” His thumb brushes my lips. “Tell me you understand.”

My heart pounds. It’s in my nature to want to challenge him, but my instincts flare with warning, urging me not to. “I understand.”

“That’s my good girl.”