Page 34 of Nicoli

“As always.”

“Good. Just as long as we’re on the same page.”

“Tell me.” She saunters in, swaying her curvy hips. “Why me when you have practically every woman in this city pining over you?”

I slip my hands into my pockets and square my gaze on her. “As I said, I was feeling nostalgic. Thought a trip down memory lane would be exciting.”

“Hmm-mm.” She stills in front of me, and lust is practically seeping from her pores. I can see the hunger swirl in her willow-green eyes, and I know she’s willing to do whatever I ask. She’s always been this insatiable goddamn bunny who would fuck all day long. But the real appeal? She’s not clingy. There’s no need for post-sex spooning or syrupy-sweet texts first thing in the morning. All she needs is to get her pussy wrecked.

“Why now?” Her voice is low, husky, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips.

I reach out, touch her chin, and she lifts her face to mine. “I’m in the mood to indulge with someone who already knows how I like it.”

“You mean someone who doesn’t linger for pillow talk.”

“Exactly.”

She eases her fingers around my wrist, guiding my hand to her throat. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

I tighten my fingers around her delicate neck, squeezing just enough to cut off her air supply. Her glistening lips part, her eyes already hooded, and we’ve barely begun.

With a snarl, I let go of her throat, and she gasps for breath while smiling wickedly. Biting her lip, she cups my cock in her palm. I’m nowhere near hard, and she notices, and excitement flashes in her irises as she accepts the challenge. “Close the door, champ. I don’t want to waste a single second.”

I glance at the door, and Paula pulls her lips together.

“Expecting someone? Which brother will be joining us this time?”

“No. It’s just us.” I grab her waist and pull her close. “But the door stays open.”

“Oh.” Her face lights up. “Going for some exhibitionism, are we? As far as I recall, that’s never been on the top of your kink list.” She reaches for the hem of her dress, winding the fabric up between her fingers. “But leaving a mark is.”

There’s a dark pull inside me as I peer down at the whitened scar on the outside of her thigh. I remember that night, how the blade of my Espada pocketknife seamlessly slit her skin, tears of scarlet leisurely trailing down her leg. That was the night I realized I had a brutal taste for the dark. The sight of blood mixed with primitive pleasure.

I slant my head to the side, studying the scar I left all those years ago. “I can still hear you whisper my name as the blade left its mark. You loved it.”

“We ruined your mother’s flowerbeds that night. Hydrangeas, was it?”

“To this day, she still thinks it was Caelian and Isaia.”

Paula snickers, then instead of pulling the skirt of the dress back down, she eases it up and over her head, letting it dangle off two fingers before she drops it to the floor with dramatic effect.

I raise a brow. “I see someone had some work done.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I distinctly remember your tits being less than a handful.” I reach out, cupping her breast, its round weight solid in my palm and larger in size. “Now it’s almost two hands.”

“A girl’s gotta keep up with the times. Now, are we doing this, or are you going to talk me to death?”

There’s this nagging voice in the back of my head screaming at me to stop. But Alexius was right. The connection between Mira and me is strong, and I have no choice but to sever it. It’s the only way I know how to protect her from me. Her hate would be the wall between us, a division that would keep her safe.

This needs to happen.

I slide my hand from Paula’s tit, up her shoulders, and behind her neck, winding her long, sleek ponytail around my fist. I yank hard, and her lips part as she cranes her throat. Leaning in, I brush my lips against her earlobe. “Be a good slut and get on your knees. I need my cock wet before I fuck you.”

She shudders, a soft gasp escaping her. “Yes, sir.”

I’m sick to my stomach as I watch Paula go on her knees. Reluctance smears a film of bitterness in my mouth. Regret is already gnawing at my spine, and the worst part isn’t even over yet. My soul is sickened, and my heart grows heavy as she unzips my pants, pulling out my cock. My insides are coiled tight, and I close my eyes when she takes me in her mouth, starting gently. A moan vibrates behind my pressed lips as my cock hardens slowly the farther she sucks me to the back of her throat. But it’s not a delighted moan. It’s more of a tormented whimper.

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