I grind into him, riding out every last drop of my orgasm. I shake and whimper a few times, the sensitivity sending shockwaves through me. I instantly feel drained and can't stay upright, and fall forward, my arms landing on each side of him.
I stare at him and smile, almost laugh from the delicious sensation he's caused to run havoc on my body.
He leans up and kisses me, and then in one swift motion, he spins me, and now I'm on my back, rose petals sticking to my skin and he's on top of me.
He smiles and kisses me and slowly starts thrusting into me again. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him forward, driving him as deep into me as I can. He wraps both his arms around me and moves his hips, hitting a spot that I'm sure is going to make me melt.
He places his forehead against mine, our breathing ragged as he picks up his pace. Slamming into me. Filling me. Stretching me, like I crave so bad.
I hold onto him as he continues his relentless motion in and out of me. My arms squeeze around him as I feel another orgasm approaching. This one is less build and more fluid, like my gateshave already broken and my erotic lust is just gushing in, taking hold of me, flooding me completely.
Every thrust is deep. Possessive. And despite my body almost breaking from the pleasure, I want it to never end.
I feel him go rigid and his breathing get faster. He's close. I clamp my walls around him, and a few seconds later, I'm coming again. As my body spasms, he shouts, his hips grinding against mine as he empties himself inside me.
I feel his warm seed filling me as my eyes roll back, his name crossing my lips three or four times before he slows and I feel his weight on me.
He straightens his arms to hover above me slightly, as we both breathe hard.
He smiles, and I laugh, always feeling giddy and spent after orgasming with him.
He slides out, and I feel it, then he collapses next to me. He pulls me close to him, and I rest my head on his chest, his heart racing against my ear.
I lift up and kiss his chest, then place my head back down.
"That made up for the two weeks," he says.
"Yes it did," I say, gently rubbing his side.
"I'll never stop wanting you like this," he says against my hair. "Just so you know."
I brush the hair out of my face and smile. It feels like I've finally let someone in, not just with my body, but somewhere deeper, somewhere I've kept guarded my entire life. And instead of fear,which is exactly what I should be feeling given the situation with my family, all I feel is relief.
I look over at a candle on the nightstand, watching the flame dance as it melts the wax around it.
"I keep waiting for the guilt to hit," I confess. "For the fear. Regret."
"And?" Niko asks, rubbing my back.
"It never comes."
His hand stills on my back. "And why would you feel guilty anyway?"
I trace a circle around his nipple, not wanting to look up. "Because of who we are. Who our families are. Because my brothers would..." I can't even finish the thought.
I look up at him now, my chin resting on his chest.
"I told Keira on the way over, this is the first thing I've done in a long time that felt like mine. Like it didn't belong to anyone but me."
"Your brothers," he sighs, "they don't get to own your story, Calli."
"No," I say. "But sometimes it feels like they wrote it before I even had a pen."
"Oh, very poetic of you."
I scrunch my nose and smile. "I have my moments."
"I know being a mafia princess," he says sarcastically, "is a life of bodyguards, family obligations, nods, smiles, this and that.But with me, you'll never have to do anything you don't want to. You'll have a voice."