Page 106 of Crowned in Sin
"Don't stop," I breathe. "Oh God, don't stop. Don't you ever fucking stop."
"As my wife commands." He angles deeper, and I collapse forward, one hand fisting the damp sheets while the other reaches back to grip his heavy balls.
"Yes..." I whimper. "Yes! YES! YES!"
"Open your eyes,piccola." His voice is rough as he yanks my hair. "Look yourself in the eyes when you come for me."
I do as he commands, and see my face turning pink and red from arousal. But I don't look away. Behind me, Nico thrusts with a possessive ruthlessness that I've come to crave. A whimper bubbles up in my throat, and it turns into a long ragged cry by the time it leaves my lips.
But I don't look away. Not once.
He kisses the mole at the back of my neck when the first tremor rushes through my body underneath him, and I shudder under his mouth and pull him by his balls closer into me. My breath catches every time he goes deep, and my body starts moving against his harder, faster, chasing it now instead of just feeling it.
"Harder." I beg.
"You want it harder,piccola?"
"Yes. God, yes."
He gives it to me, harder, deeper, his hips slamming into mine now with nothing careful left in the motion, and I meet everythrust like I'm trying to pull him all the way inside me and keep him there.
"You're mine," he tells me, low and rough against my ear. "Every fucking inch of you. Say it."
"I'm yours." My voice breaks on it. "Yours. All yours, Nico. Take it. Take what belongs to you."
And he does. He takes it like a gift.
When I come apart under him this time it's louder than the shower, a long broken cry into the sheets, my whole body clenching around him hard enough to drag him down behind me. He follows me with my name on his mouth and my hands fisted in my hair, emptying into me in long, shuddering pulses that leave both of us emptied and filled at the same time. Afterward he doesn't move off me right away. He stays there with his forehead against my shoulder, both of us still damp and breathing hard while my fingers slowly unclench from the balled-up sheets.
"I need to say something," he tells me, once his heart slows enough to trust his voice.
I go still under him. His breath catches, something in his face going unsteady.
"I told you that this was never about love," he says, recalling what he told me all those weeks ago. "But that was a lie too. I love you, Lydia. And I know for a fact that I've loved you from the moment I met you, and I'll love you until the day I die."
He presses his mouth to mine.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, and there's a wetness in his eyes I've only seen once before, the night his father's namecame up and broke something open in him he couldn't close again.
"Do you remember," he says, "that night at dinner. After the first time Frank tried to scare you off from me."
"I remember."
"I told you he'd never win. Because I already had." His thumb brushes my cheekbone. "Because I had you, and he didn't."
"Yes."
"For a while I didn't think it was true anymore." His voice roughens. "After everything. After what I did to your father, after I let you find out from him instead of from me, I thought I'd lost the thing that made it true."
"But you didn't."
"No," he says. "Frank's dead. And you're still here, and you're here because you chose it, not because I forced you to stay here behind a locked door." He kisses my forehead. "I love you, Lydia."
"I love you too, Nico." I close my eyes and let that settle into me, warm and solid. My heart starts up again, faster this time, for a different reason. "And there's something I have to tell you."
He tenses, reading my face, bracing himself for inevitable bad news.
"It's good," I tell him quickly. "I promise."
