Page 11 of Nero: Shattered Wings

“This is sexy.” He runs a calloused fingertip over the butterfly tattoo on my inner thigh before playfully grazing it with his teeth. My readiness smears his cheek. That’s how hidden my tattoo is. You have to splay my thighs wide open to see it. No man has ever bothered to get that close and personal with me. “I think you need one here as well.”

He bites at the delicate skin on my opposite thigh, sending another yelp bouncing around the room before he looks up at me.

He stares while pushing a finger inside me to the first knuckle, gauging my response.

I whimper.

It isn’t in fear.

It is in desperation.

We suck in a combined breath when he slides his finger out before he increases its burn by giving the solo traveler a girthy counterpart.

He pushes two fingers in deep, loving the desperate search of my hands to claw something. They scratch the bedding before bunching it into firm balls. My moans are nowhere near as controllable. They barrel out of me like waves crashing to shore.

I moan, cuss, and grunt as Nero continues to unravel me with his fingers. He pumps them in and out of me for several long minutes before he rolls his thumb over my clit.

That’s my undoing.

I come with a hoarse cry, shuddering and shaking through my first climax in over three years.

And then his mouth is on me.

“No,” is the first thought to leave my head, and then, “More. Please. Oh god.”

My hand flies up to clamp my mouth when Nero eats me with an expertise I’ve never experienced. He curls his tongue around my clit and grazes it with his teeth while finger fucking me at a leisured yet mind-spiraling pace.

I groan and rock my hips upward, mashing my pussy with his mouth. All quests for revenge are lost, my focus now solely on the present. I’m not Miranda, a soon-to-be divorcee. I am sexy and wanted and being eaten by the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Every muscle clenches as I come again.

I bite on the palm of my hand, silencing the franticness of my screams when Nero doesn’t stop.

His tongue doesn’t stop slithering.

His fingers don’t still.

He continues fucking me with his mouth and hand until not even the most painful bite will stop my moans from bellowing down the hotel’s hallway.

Nero’s tongue finally leaves my clit half a second before he looms above me. I feel the pulse of his cock when he braces it at the opening of my pussy. His groan when he feels the results of my multiple climaxes tightens my core.

I’m drenched front to back and barely coherent, but not even a near-comatose state would have me missing how far his cock stretches.

It braces against my pussy and halfway up my stomach.

I veer my eyes from his impressive cock when he says, “Can you bury the urge to hide from me if I take you like this, or do I need to change positions?”

Embarrassment that he knows my neurosis barely graces my cheeks; however, Nero acts as if they are on fire.

Without a single struggle, he switches our position until I’m hovering above him and he’s sprawled beneath me. He licks his lips as his eyes travel down my body. When he tastes me on his mouth, it reminds him of his early offer for me to ride his face.

He shimmies down like it isn’t a tight squeeze for a man of his size to fit between my thighs before he bands his arms around my legs and arrows his head toward my drenched slit.

“It’s okay. I don’t need?—”

Holy mother of god.

One flick of my clit with his nose and I come.

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