Page 26 of Owning Nicci

“What do you want,principessa?” I murmur, and her eyes darken, suspicion filling them as if she’s wondering if this is a trap.

“You know what I want. The remaining Crows dead. My father dead. My brother dead. For me to be a part of it.”

“Is that all?”

Nicci’s eyes narrow. “It’s what I can have. As long as I give you whatyouwant.”

“You’ve done very well with that, so far. Well enough, in fact, that I think you deserve a reward. But only if you do as I ask.”

She presses her lips together. “Of course, sir,” she murmurs, only the barest hint of resentment bleeding through her tone.

“Tell me where he touched you.” I try to keep my voice flat, to not let her hear the jealousy rippling through it. “From the time we were at the party until I put that gun to his head.”

I see a spark of surprise in Nicci’s eyes. She hesitates for a moment, as if thinking, and I’m gratified to know that she doesn’t immediately remember. That his touch isn’t burned into her mind. “On my arm,” she says finally. “When I said hello.”

“Which arm?”

“The…right one. Upper,” she whispers, and I reach down, grazing my fingers against the soft skin on her upper right arm.

“Here?”

She nods. “Yes, sir.”

My cock twitches, swelling until I’m almost completely hard. I graze the spot again, overwriting his touch, leaving the brush of my fingers there instead. “Where next?”

“My waist. And then my hip. My lower back. The right side, too.” She swallows hard, and I reach down, gliding my fingers down the slight curve of her waist, over her slender hip. I hear her soft intake of breath as my hand traces that path, and I feel her thighs twitch against the inside of my legs, where I have them trapped.

She might want to pretend that my touch does nothing to her, that she feels nothing, but she’s lying. I can feel her body tensing, and I could chalk it up to fear, to revulsion at my touch, but her skin is flushing pink, her breaths coming more quickly now. I know arousal when I see it, and I see it in her.

I slide my hand down, curving it against her lower back, between her and the bed. Nicci arches slightly, and I drag my fingers down her spine. “Where else?”

“Nowhere, until we were back at his house,” she murmurs. “And then—the back of my neck. My hair. He kissed me.”

I won’t kiss her. I can’t. There’s an intimacy to kissing, a tenderness to it, that has no place between us. Instead, I reach up, my fingers gliding over the line of her neck, long and delicate as a swan’s. I thread my fingers up into her hair, tangling them there slightly, tugging lightly, and watching as her lips part before I bring my other hand up to her lips, tracing the shape of them with one fingertip.

Nicci’s lips part. I push my fingers forward, over her tongue, into her mouth, as if wiping away the mark of his tongue there,tangled with hers. Her lips graze against my fingers, warm and wet, and my cock strains against the front of my pants.

“Where else did he touch you?” I murmur, sliding my fingers out of her mouth.

“My breasts.” Her voice is thicker now. “All…all over.”

I drop my hands to the sides of her breasts, trailing my fingers up the small curve. Up, over, around, avoiding her nipples until I see her lips part, hear her gasping softly, feel her back arch as if she wants to press herself into my hands. My arousal is nearly painful now, but the satisfaction that bleeds through my veins gives me something else to focus on.

I wanted to reclaim her, but I’m getting something more, too. This,thisis submission. Surrender. Her body wanting mine, even if she’d rather see me dead. I feel victorious, powerful. And when I reach her nipples, trailing my fingers around the stiffening peaks before I pinch them tightly, her moan is the most perfect fucking thing I’ve ever heard.

Mine. It’s mine now, just like she is.

“Did he touch you anywhere else?”

“He…he slid his hand up under my skirt. Before I grabbed it and stopped him. So he wouldn’t find…” she sucks in another breath. “The weapons.”

I reach down, my hand hovering over her ribs, her belly, the soft bare skin of her tight abdomen, before I dip my hand between her thighs. She’s shaved bare, her skin smooth and perfect, and I find her dripping wet.

I bite back a groan as my fingers slip between her folds. She’s soaked, slick and hot, and she lets out another gasping moan as I drag my fingers up, circling her swollen clit with one quick, brief motion before I pull back.

“Oh, god,” she gasps, swallowing hard as her hips arch, and I chuckle roughly, the sound dark as I hover over her.

“There’s no god here,principessa,” I murmur. “Only me. And I think you’ve been a good enough girl to earn an orgasm. But you’ll take it the way I want to give it to you.”

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