Page 47 of Isle of Pain

Then, it recedes and I’m left exhausted. I look down to where Nico waits patiently for me, hands resting on his knees, the same droopy smile I’m sure I’m giving him as well.

“That was incredible. Thank you.”

I’m unsure how to end the scene or what to do, unease creeping into me but Nico picks up my panty from the side of the sofa and helps me get it back on. I wince at the wetness of them but I don’t have another set here. Nico hands me the rest of my clothes next, taking back over. His measured actions help me release the anxiety of not knowing what to do.

He stands and gets his own clothing on, the black jeans and tee fitting him perfectly. He looks like a dark prince of the night and if I didn’t experience the best orgasm of my life thanks to his submission, I wouldn’t believe that he is real.

He goes to a small fridge I hadn’t noticed and retrieves two bottles of water, giving me one and signalling to drink it with a tilt of his chin.

My mind is still high with oxytocin, my brain frazzled and not ready to get back to reality so I remain silent. But I’m curious. I want to know more about how it was for him. Is it always like this? Did he enjoy himself? Before I can overthink, Nico speaks.

“Thankyou, Marie. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I think my soul left my body at some point.”

“I think mine did, too,” I tell him truthfully. “What happens now?”

“Now, we decide what we do for aftercare. We should have talked about this before but I was so eager I kind of forgot,” he says sheepishly and I find myself falling harder for him. Because I can be honest with myself. I’m falling for Nico Capaldi. And not just because of the sex. “I usually don’t require a lot of aftercare but Damian likes to put ointment on my skin after a harsh session.” I crinkle my nose at the mention of his business partner.

“You let him touch you?” I ask, sounding insecure. I don’t know why the knowledge that someone else can touch him when he keeps saying that I’m the only one makes me irrationally sad and mad all at once. He’s a grown man and he doesn’t owe me anything.

“Only during aftercare,” Nico says matter-of-factly. “And it’s more forhisaftercare than mine. I allow it because it’s important for the dominant party to also tend to their needs. Damian’s caretaker personality requires that he makes sure I’m not gonnabe in pain the next day and to show me that he isn’t a violent person.”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense. What do you require?”

“Mostly, to be left alone to process. But with you, I want to know everything that went through your mind. And that’s new. That will be an adjustment. What do you want?”

I ponder the question, looking around me. Now that the high is slowing, the room almost seems sterile and lifeless. The sofa underneath me creaks and I don’t like the sound, the jazzy music irritates my ears and I don’t like the colours of the rug under my feet. I also miss my daughter.

“I want to go home and maybe watch a movie? After, we talk?” I ask with a hint of insecurity. Nico takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it. “Then, let’s go,luna mia.”

26

NICO

AFTERCARE

As we ride back to my house in the middle of the forest, my head has quieted down to an unusual level. The only element still present there are the vivid memories of Marie’s taste on my tongue. I’ve never even considered going down on someone before but when she opened herself up for me and told me to lick her leaking pussy, it was like a trance. I couldn’t control my body or my body’s response if I wanted to. I had to do what she told me, be her good boy, bring her pleasure, just as much as she gave me. That’s the least I can do for her.

Already, I’m planning a repeat.

I understand how she could become addicted to alcohol if it gave her even a fraction of what her sweet commands do to me. It’s addictive.Sheis addictive. I don’t care to put a label on what I feel as long as I get to experience it over and over until the day I die.

I park my bike in front of the house and help her off. My fingers tap a staccato of rhythm on my legs as we approach the front door. Marie regards me curiously and decides to bebrave, asking what’s on her mind. Watching her bloom is such a privilege. “You do that a lot.”

“What?”

“Tapping your fingers. Always in a set of three. And always when you have something on your mind. Do you want to tell me?”

“I thought you wanted to watch a movie first, then talk.” She shrugs, but it’s a small disruption in the plan. It’s all part of the after care she asks for and as long as we get to do all the steps she laid out, I think I’ll be okay. Even if it’s not in the order she expressed at first. It makes me uneasy, but her eyes are still set on me, waiting for my answer.

“It calms me down. Ever since I was a kid, there were always three people I cared about: my father, my mother and Andrea. Then, my father died because of me and I was down one person but the number stayed. It’s like an anchor.”

She nods to herself in my periphery. Now that I’ve started, it seems the words have decided to come out, with or without my permission. “I also like it when we’re in a scene.”

“I know. I tried to keep count of three tonight.”

“I noticed. Thank you.”

She dips her head down, her hair falling like a curtain around her. I tuck it back behind her ear so I can fully watch the expressions going through her face. “If I don’t see your face, I’m not sure what you feel. And it’s important for me to know. I’ve learned non-verbal clues but I can read faces better.”

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