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“Hello?” the girl answers, the feed providing some much-needed context to the conversation I was subjected to the other night. I watch as she realizes the phone she answered isn’t hers—a fact she shares with JP before he encourages her to hang up so she can resume her demonstration on how she lacks a gag reflex.
“It wasn’t you,” I whisper in relief as the revelation washes over me.
“It wasn’t me,” he echoes before tossing his phone aside. It hits the floor, the resulting thud echoing around the open space as his lips descend upon me once more. The kiss this time isn’t controlled or measured as he slams his mouth to mine, a clash of moans, teeth, and tongues.
Nicky’s steadily hardening cock springs to life, suddenly standing at full attention as he grinds against my pussy, causing my quivering thighs to clench around his waist. He cradles my face, pulling back a fraction of an inch to peer down at me.
“You’re gonna ruin me all over again, aren’t you?” My question slips free a breathless whisper, the words barely audible over the pounding of my traitorous heart. Nicky stares at me for several beats, as if contemplating his response. Loosening his hold, his hands migrate down to my waist where he supports my weight as my feet lower to the floor.
I prepare for him to come to his senses. To storm out just as quickly as he forced his way in. Yet, he stands in silence, his eyes continuing to flicker over my form.
“You ruined me first, demon. Call it even.”
His hands fist at the hem of my oversized sleep shirt, discarding it up and over my head with a swift tug, leaving me bare before him. I allow my eyes to slip closed as Nicky traces along the delicate curve of my collarbone, bewitching my body with nothing more than a gentle touch.
“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers almost reverently, like he’s speaking to himself.
I glance up to find him fixated on the path his fingertips travel, his hungry eyes slowly mapping the lines of my body as if refamiliarizing himself with each outline and curve. Feelings of desire and lust swell within me in anticipation, though they are tainted with the familiar sting of shame.
Because though I know what’s to come, I’m still going to give myself over to him. I see each and every red flag, every warning sign clearly highlighting all the ways this will inevitably go wrong like all the times before, and yet I submit.
I don’t bother asking what this means. I have no desire to hear the words he’s uttered a million times before explaining how we will never be anything more than this. Instead, I hook my thumbs into the sides of my sleep shorts and shove them down, allowing the thin fabric to pool at my feet.
Standing naked before him, my steadied resolve meets his gaze head on. “I still hate you,” I state, issuing the words as though they’re a condition of some twisted truce. They are, in many ways. Whether tonight leads to the latest recent round in our toxic saga, or simply proves to be an isolated incident in a long list of fuck-ups, I cling to them, reciting the four little words repetitively in my head. They’re the best chance I have at remaining sane when this too comes to an end.
Nicky nods in response, a silent acceptance of my terms. “I know, demon.” He slowly begins to back away, loosening his tie as he goes. Pulling the long strip of fabric free from his collar, he moves to undo the buttons of his shirt, the expensive cloth parting at the center, exposing the hard planes of his abs. Nicky pulls the hem of his shirt from the waist of his pants, allowing the sides to fall open entirely before discarding both it and his suit jacket onto the arm of the couch as he drops down. “But we both know you’re still gonna crawl to me like my good little girl.”
I want to be a smartass. I want to tell him to fuck off and send his ass packing right back the way he came. Neither of those things are possible, though.
Because while his declaration may be arrogant and degrading, it’s also one hundred percent true.
CHAPTER 33
NOW
NICKY
I’m slow to undo my belt, eyes transfixed on the floor before me as Daph seductively crawls along on her hands and knees. She crosses over onto the carpet—that ugly overpriced sheepskin rug I jokingly added to her registry—and yet, somehow her naked body makes it look like a stunning piece of art.
She glides through the soft fur, her golden skin shimmering in the candlelight as she continues in her approach. At long last, she reaches me, rising up to her knees as she grips hold of my belt buckle, pulling the leather free from the loops of my pants.
Desperate to feel her, I reach out, my hand stroking the side of her face before tucking several of her deep auburn curls behind her ear. Though she shivers from my touch, it doesn’t seem to distract her from her mission to free me from my slacks. With nimble fingers, she undoes my zipper before reaching in to pull my painfully hard cock free from the confines of my boxer briefs.
The sensation of her gripping my dick elicits an involuntary moan from the back of my throat. I drop my head back, inhaling deep greedy breaths as she begins to stroke my shaft. My hips flex up, the shallow but eager thrusts working in tandem with her hand.
Daph smiles, her smirk sly and seductive as she begins twisting her hand on the downstroke, and the prolonged low groan that slips free from the pleasure a simple hand job is bringing me is fucking embarrassing.
“You okay, soldier?” She chuckles, her eyes appreciatively assessing my awestruck face.
“Yeah.” I pant, eyes slipping closed as I allow the sensation to envelop me. “It’s just been a minute.”
She snorts, shaking her head as though dismissing what I’ve said. “I would love to hear what your definition of ‘a minute’ is.”
“January.”
That gives her pause. Daph goes rigid, her naked body still kneeling between my legs, hand wrapped around my shaft mid-stroke as she seemingly struggles to process my confession.
“You’re telling me you haven’t had sex since January?” My eyes remain fixated on where she’s still gripping my cock, desperate to have her resume.
