Page 24 of Stricken

As I lay there panting, trying to regain my bearings, Nico crawls back up my body. His cock is rigid, leaking pre-cum onto my stomach, his boxers are lowered just enough for me to see him taking himself in hand, stroking furiously.

"Don't close your eyes, Hot Shot," he rasps out between his labored breaths, "I want you to watch me come all over your pretty face."

"Whatever you say, Romeo."

Seconds later, he's shooting his load, painting my chest with ribbons of white. The sight is obscenely erotic, and I feel a renewed stirring of interest despite having just climaxed. His cock is a masterpiece and for a second I pretend he's my personal sex toy. Hard and sweaty and willing.

He falls forward but props himself on both elbows just in time, right before our bodies collide. Then he lands a quick kiss on my lips and rolls over to lie on his back next to me.

We remain still and quiet, both catching our breaths.

"I can get addicted to that," Nico eventually mutters and though I can't see him, I can sense the smile on his face. There's a change in his voice when he's smiling and I'm hearing it now—that satisfaction of accomplishment.

"All dangerous things are addictive," I reply.

For several minutes we say nothing else, just try to get our bearings. Then Nico rises from the bed and disappears into the bathroom. He returns a little later with a wet towel and sits next to me, gently cleaning us both off. The tender gesture feels oddly intimate, more so than what we've just done.

I look at him as he runs the towel over my neck, wiping the rest of his cum. His hair is mussed, cheeks flushed—he looks thoroughly debauched and utterly gorgeous.

"So," I begin, voice rough from the sudden tightness in my throat, "I guess we need to talk about...this."

Nico's expression grows somewhat serious, but the hint of the smirk never truly goes away. "Yeah, I suppose we do."

"You are deleting the footage of me ever being at Palazzo or the hotel."

"Oh, bossy."

I reach up to seize his jaw with my palm. "I'm serious."

He stares down at me with his impossible eyes as if challenging my request. "I promised I'd do it. I always keep my promise,caro."

Sensing that my grip loosens, he tilts his head and wriggles out of my grasp, and bites my thumb playfully.

My stomach clenches and not from desire, but from something else—affection I hardly ever allow myself.

"Don't be so serious all the time," Nico says with a chuckle, then he reaches into his discarded pants, retrieving his phone. His fingers dance across the screen before he holds it out to me. "Put your number in," he says. "This is my direct line."

I don't move for a heartbeat or two, assessing the offer and what it entails. "What for?" I ask.

"Text me anytime you need to... blow off some steam." His lips quirk in a suggestive smirk. "Or if you just want to talk."

I take the device, my fingers brushing his. A jolt of electricity passes between us. "Are you a therapist?"

"I can be."

"You are so full of it, Romeo." Still, I input my details into his phone, thinking to myself that I won't do it. I will not text him. I will not let this insanity go on any longer. It's dangerous.

Nico's voice drops to a whisper when I return the phone. "By the way, I had fun."

"So did I."

"Speaking of fun," Nico says, rising to his feet. "You still owe me that Ferrari ride."

"Bullshit," I retort, but there's no heat in it. "I won that car fair and square. It's mine. I don't owe you anything."

"Keep telling yourself that, Hot Shot." He smiles at me from the vantage point of his height. His entire pose is a tease. He's a picture of athleticism and his cock looks impressive even when it's soft and spent. And I realize I want to taste it, take him into my mouth and suck him.

Fuck.

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