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“I know you can,” Nero sighs. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“What, then?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt!”
My heart does a little backflip inside my chest. Not at the idea of grievous bodily injury—at the look on Nero’s face. His white-hot fury at the idea that anyone might lay a hand on me.
“Look,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his knife. It’s the one he keeps on him at all times, sometimes doing tricks with it when he’s lost in thought, or bored.
He tries to hand it to me.
I shake my head. “I’m not stabbing anybody.”
“You might,” he says, grabbing my hand and forcibly closing my fingers around the handle. “You never know what might happen, Camille. Promise me you’ll keep this with you, everywhere you go.”
I hesitate, then slowly nod.
“Fine,” I say.
I don’t have to actually use it. Just carry it around.
Nero shows me how to open the blade and close it again. He shows me how to hold it, how to swing the knife upward, or switch grips for a downward stroke.
I try not to get distracted by the scent of his skin, and his warm fingers closed over mine.
“Remember, there’s no fair fight,” he tells me, his gray eyes as cold as steel. “You’re always going to be the smaller opponent. You have to take any chance you can get. Go for the vulnerable spots—the eyes, nose, throat, groin, knee, instep. You’ve got to be ruthless, and dirty. Or you don’t have a hope of winning.”
I swallow hard.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” I tell him.
“Good, I hope not. We’re still gonna practice,” he says.
Nero folds up the knife and slips it in my pocket, his hand lingering against my thigh.
Impulsively, I pull him into my room and shut the door behind us.
“I thought you had to go take care of your dad?” he teases me.
“I’ve got five minutes more.”
I push him down on my mattress, unbuttoning his jeans.
His cock springs out, already hard. I’ve never seen it in any other state—he seems to get aroused as soon as we’re within five feet of each other.
I don’t have much to compare it with, but Nero’s cock is gorgeous, just like the rest of him: long, thick, with an upward curve. Just a little darker than the rest of his skin.
And here’s the part I’d never admit: it tastes incredible.
I slide my tongue up the length of it, from base to tip. By the time I get to the head, a little droplet of clear precum is waiting for me. I close my mouth over the head of his cock, lapping it up with the flat of my tongue.
He tastes like salt and spice.
Nero groans, and I say, “Shh! My dad will hear you.”
I take as much of his cock as I can fit into my mouth. My mouth is watering from the taste of his skin, which makes his cock slide easily in and out.
I use my lips and tongue and both hands, sliding, squeezing, licking, and sucking all at once. Nero is rolling his hips, breathing deeply and trying hard not to make any more sound. He can’t help it, though. As I speed up my pace, he puts my pillow over his head and moans into that instead, pressing it into his face with both hands.
