Page 55 of Nicoli

“You’ll always be my hummingbird.” There’s a promise that rings in his words, and I soak it up, let it penetrate my chest so it engraves in my heart. “I need to know.”

“Know what?”

He pulls out of me, and I wince, instantly mourning the loss. But he slips his hand between my legs, dragging his fingers through my slit, then forces it into my mouth, spreading the taste of his cum mixed with mine on my tongue. I enclose my lips around his fingers, lapping and sucking every last drop of it. The two of us mixed together tastes like sin.

“A name,” he orders with a heavy breath along my ear.

“What?” I blurt while my body still shakes with tremors of pleasure.

“Who is it?” he bites out with a low tenor. “Who touched you?”

“Oh, my God. Are you serious?”

“Give me a fucking name, Mira.”

“Just one?” I didn't know his eyebrows could go that high, and it was a dick move on my part, but anger has been the most emotion I’ve ever been able to get out of him. So, I’ll take it.

Angry fingers wrap around my throat. “Don’t fuck with me, Mirabella. Who is it?”

“You just fucked me against your car out in the damn street, and that’s the first thing you say to me? What the hell is wrong with you?’ I try to push myself away, but Nicoli is a brick wall that makes it impossible.

“Rather, ask me what’s not wrong with me. The list is shorter.”

“Get your hands off me, Nicoli.”

“I need his fucking name.” He punches his fist into the roof of his car, and I no longer find his shock amusing. He’s angry. He’s furious, and he’s scaring me.

“Get off me!” I push him away and quickly yank my dress over my thighs. I’m flustered and out of breath when I turn to face him, his mouth a taunting sneer and the veins in his neck bulging with the strain of restraint he’s trying to hold on to.

My heart thumps violently. “I told you, you don’t know him.”

“I need a name.”

“Why?”

“So I can slit his throat.” Nothing in his expression says he’s not serious, a murderous rage flashing in his eyes.

“You’re an asshole.”

“That’s not a name, Mirabella.”

“No!” I slap my palm hard against his chest. “No! You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be jealous.”

He steps back, wiping the back of his hand across his nose, fuming. “Who in this motherfucking city had the balls to touch you?”

“No one! And you made sure of that, didn’t you?”

“Because no one has the right to touch what’s—”

“Yours?” I snap. “Newsflash, I’m not yours. I’m not fucking yours. You don’t own me.”

“Believe me. I know that.”

“Then why are you acting this way?”

“Because if I can’t have you, no one can!” His voice slams against the asphalt, his words like metal with sharp edges.

“What did you expect? That I’d spend my life alone, waiting for the day you’d hopefully love me back while you fucked every woman in this entire goddamn city? You selfish asshole.”

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