Page 28 of Nicoli

Mira’s laughter fills the air—light and melodic, and it has the power to make even me smile.

I right my backpack on my shoulder. “Now, go play with your dolls or something. I’ll see you later.”

“Remember, you’re buying me a pony,” she calls after me as I shut the door, stepping out on the porch.

I grin and shake my head. “Hummingbird.”

* * *

I’ve never been moreconvinced that the universe has a hard-on for me. I just happened to walk down the hall at the same time Mira just happened to stroll around with nothing but a towel. And that towel just happened to drop to the floor, my jaw following suit. You can’t make this shit up.

Whacking my own dick isn’t something I like to do. I prefer to feel a pussy clench my cock rather than my fist. But the second my bedroom door slams closed behind me, I unzip my pants and pull out my dick. It’s impossibly hard. I don’t think it’s ever been this hard. Give me a concrete wall, and I’ll fuck a hole in it with this jackhammer throbbing in my palm.

Her perfect-sized tits—just a little more than a handful—begging to be touched, rosy nipples pleading to get sucked, and that temptingly tight cleft inviting me to slide my shaft between her breasts.Fuck. Her smooth skin wakes every nerve ending in me. I’m convinced she bathes in silk every night and showers in honey every morning. How else can one explain how goddamn perfect she is?

Mira’s hourglass curves and rounded hips with an ass worth starting an apocalypse over had precum pearling on my dick the instant that towel dropped. I had to lock my jaw and clench my fists just to keep myself from pouncing on her like a wild, rabid animal. I would’ve settled for humping her leg like a dog if given half a chance.Jesus.

I grip my dick tight, feeling the thick vein throbbing, pumping it up and down, imagining it’s her pussy. Landing strip. I knew it. I knew her pussy would have a plush little streak of neatly groomed hair. The perfect fucking rectangle for just enough tickle to let me open my mouth wider and eat her cunt like she’s a five-course meal for a man who has been starved his entire life. That’s how I feel right now. Starved. Famished. Ravenous.

I grab hold of the bedpost, gripping it tight, and moan softly as my balls start to draw up close to my body. With every stroke, I see her more clearly, how she spreads her legs wider, her pussy lips glistening with arousal. I can smell it. Ididsmell it. I couldn’t stop myself from drawing in a deep, slow inhale with her sex so damn close, all I had to do was stick out my tongue, and I would have tasted her. Sweet mother of God. If she tastes as sweet as she smells, I would never come up for air. It was agony not to lick up her crease and sink a finger into her hole, to make her come and swallow her pleasure.

My hips rock as I pump my cock, harder, faster, imaging my palm as her velvet-softness gripping me tight. I slide my thumb over the head, running circles around it, then slip my hand back down, pulling back all the way to the base. In my head, Mira and I are on the bed, her ivory skin a deep contrast against my navy-blue sheets. I’m sliding in and out of her, her heels digging into my ass. The deeper she takes me, the faster I thrust into her with only one goal…to wreck her cunt.

My breathing gets heavier, weaved with short, raspy moans. And as I imagine kissing her for the first time, feeling her lips against mine, having her exquisite tongue brushing mine, I give myself one final stroke as pleasure rips through my balls and up my spine. My cum jets onto the sheets as I continue to pump, milking my own cock for every last drop.

But it’s still there. The fire. The need. The hunger. It’s still buried deep in the pit of my stomach, and other than the ribbons of cum staining my sheets, there’s no proof that I just jerked off and came. There’s zero relief. No trace of satisfaction. And I’m still one hundred percent fucked.

I tuck my dick back in pants then stomp to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. It’s like hell just opened its asshole and my veins are on fire. But as the water runs from the faucet, and I look at my reflection in the mirror, my mind comes to a screeching halt.

Landing strip.

A beautifully groomed pussy.

Ready to be taken whenever.

By whom?

Jesus. Fuck.I grab hold of the basin’s edge, my knuckles pure white. She’s a virgin. I know she is because there’s not a man alive who has the balls to touch her. It’s one of those very simple ‘I can’t have her, so no one can’ scenarios. It’s selfish, but I don’t give a rat's ass.

I let go of the basin and breathe in deep. Yeah…Mirabella’s definitely still a virgin.

ChapterTen

MIRABELLA

“I’m not a virgin.”

Leandra gasps, her mouth gaped open as I just nonchalantly drop this information bomb on her. “You’re not a virgin?”

“Shhh.” I quickly glance around the restaurant, hoping no one else heard Leandra blurt out my confession—especially the muscle Alexius placed on protection duty. Luckily, the two of them are sitting across the restaurant at the bar, pretending they don’t even know we exist. But they know. They’ve been trained to have eyes in the back of their head when it comes to Leandra and me.

Leaning in closer, I respond quietly, “No, I’m not.”

“Why haven’t you told me?”

I shrug. “It never came up.”

“Bullshit. We’ve spoken about my sex life with Alexius numerous times, and in detail, I might add. So you had plenty of opportunity to share this little tidbit of information.”

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