Page 56 of Locked in Wonderland

I probably should have objected to that endearment.

Not now, though.

Later.

After he’d fucked me.

I hissed as he pushed inside. My eyes slipped closed as I savored the slight sting, the discomfort only making everything feel better given how turned on I was.

At least face down, I could ignore the mirrors. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than a hand tangled in my hair and turned my head sideways.

“Open your eyes,” Nico instructed. “Watch.”

I obeyed.

In the mirror, Nico made a show of it as he pushed deeper. His biceps flexed as he braced himself above me, and watching his swollen cock disappear into my arse somehow made everything even hotter.

Too hot.

So hot that I came in under a minute without ever touching myself.

It only made Nico fuck harder until every thrust landed with enough force to drive me forward.

“How many times do you think you can come from me fucking you?” he asked, slightly breathless with exertion.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

He slid a hand beneath me and wrapped it around my cock. “Still hard,” he announced.

“Yeah,” I agreed, already pushing back against him.

“On your hands and knees,” Nico demanded.

We started on the sofa, but eventually migrated to the floor, where Nico could fuck me the way he wanted to.

The way he wanted turned out to be hard and fast, with absolutely nothing held back. This time, I didn’t need prompting to watch our reflections. I drank in the sight of Nico’s sweat-slick muscles, admiring the power and beauty of his body as he drove me relentlessly toward yet another climax.

Our gazes met in the mirror. Nico looked infuriatingly smug as I begged, pleaded, and moaned my way through what was, drugs or no drugs, undoubtedly the best sex of my life.

The next orgasm nearly wiped me out.

My mind and body became so disconnected from reality that when I found myself on my back with my knees pushed up around my ears, I had no recollection whatsoever of when or how I’d gotten there.

All I knew was that I was floating somewhere beyond coherent thought, suspended in a transcendental state that defied description.

Everything had become sensation.

It felt as though someone had stripped away my skin and exposed every nerve ending beneath it.

Every touch amplified the feeling.

Every kiss.

Every pant—and Nico was doing a lot of those as he neared his own climax—had become the only sounds that existed in the world, the only ones I needed to hear.

When I finally managed to open my eyes, I laughed. How had I not noticed the ceiling?

It was mirrored, too.