Page 136 of Stricken

"Let go," Nico urges. "Wanna feel you come apart."

His words shatter my last shred of control. I cry out, spilling over his hand and against the headboard as pleasure crashes through me. Nico follows moments later, his release pulsing deep inside me, filling my asshole with his thick, hot cum.

Fuck, that feels so good. So filthy, so depraved, but heavenly good.

I wanna do it all over again, have Nicola Morelli own me for the rest of my days.

CHAPTER44

NICO

The aroma of fresh ciabatta and sharp espresso blend with the lingering scent of Vlad's cologne while we're seated on the terrace of his home the following morning. Sunlight–first in days–dances over the polished table set before us. Its surface is a canvas of indulgence prepared by some chef he hired—far superior than any hotel could offer, he claimed.

Frankly speaking, I didn't want to eat at the hotel either for security reasons. With the Morelli family in a bind, all the vermin will start to crawl out of their hiding places, trying to grab a piece. And who's to say I can't be that piece?

"I've always wanted to expand Uncle's business into Atlantic City," I muse, spreading a thick layer of fig jam on my toast and smiling under my nose like a lovesick idiot. "The market's ripe. And I have a buddy there." I let the idea dangle in the air, waiting to hear what Vlad says.

We haven't really discussed what happens next. All that's clear at the moment is that I'm a free agent and I'm his man and he's mine.

When no answer follows, I lift my gaze from my food and look at him, wondering if I allowed my imagination to run wild. Vlad's a picture of composure, seated in his chair, sipping on his espresso, his eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond my shoulder.

"Vlad?"

He nods absentmindedly. "Mm."

I pause, thrown off by his lack of enthusiasm. "Are you listening?"

"Yes. Legitimate ventures. Diversification of portfolio," he repeats some of my earlier sentiments.

"Any interest in going to Atlantic City with me?"

Another nod, another noncommittal grunt. Just then his phone buzzes and he grabs it immediately, checking the message with a tight frown.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yes," he replies without looking at me.

No, he's not okay.

"Hey,caro," I say softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. "How about taking a trip together? Just the two of us, somewhere far away from all this? Even for a few days."

Vlad's gaze finally meets mine as he rests the phone–screen down–next to his plate. There's a distance there that makes my chest ache. "That's not practical right now, Nico."

"Why not?" I press, desperate to break through his icy facade I can't explain. Last night he was the very opposite. But something changed between then and now. "We've earned a break, haven't we? Besides, now that I'm no longer part of the family, I need to make my own way. I'll be very busy. I want to spend some time with you before things get crazy."

Vlad sighs, pushing his barely-touched plate away. "There's too much work to be done."

I study his face, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the tight set of his jaw. Realization dawns, bitter on my tongue.

"What's wrong?" I ask, though I already know the answer. "What's wrong, really?"

He shakes his head, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Just thinking. Everything's fine."

Liar, I want to say, but I bite my tongue. Of course, he's not fine. Shtyk is still out there, the bastard haunting Vlad's every waking moment. The man who killed his mother. He's still breathing, still free. And I haven't heard an update from Costa, which worries me too.

Just wait a little longer, my love, I think, watching as Vlad rises abruptly to his feet.I'll get him for you. I'll do whatever it takes to bring you peace.

"We should leave," Vlad says, his voice cold, authoritative. "Let's get this over with."

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