novelxo Nicoli: Chapter 12
My phone rings. It’s security, and I already know why they’re calling.
I swipe across the screen, my cigar locked between my lips, and the smoke caked around my fingers. The ice in my glass clinks as I swirl the bourbon around its crystal confinement. “Yes? She’s with me. You can let her in.” I pause, inhaling deeply for courage. “Tell Mira I must talk to her when she gets home.” I hang up, throwing my head back and praying the end of the world will happen within the next sixty seconds. But, of course, I’m not that lucky.
With a heavy sigh, I put out my cigar and empty my glass. The sting of the alcohol tingles my lips and burns as it slides down my throat. I’m painfully aware that the spike in courage and the slight reprieve the alcohol offers is only temporary. But tonight, I’ll settle for temporary. The bourbon numbs me, and that’s what I need right now. To be numb. Emotions brought me to this point where I have to take such drastic measures. It’s feelings that had me thinking leaving this house and skipping town is my only option. But since Alexius declined my request, and the mere fact that I won’t be able to protect her when I’m halfway across the world, I’m left with no other choice. There is no other option.
I open my bedside drawer and reach all the way to the back for the tiny red box I know is there. It’s been a long time since I opened it. I don’t like wandering around in the past because it always results in a fuckton of what-ifs.
What if that night never happened?
What if I had been more careful?
What if she never overheard that conversation?
What if I didn’t attend her eighteenth birthday party only to notice that the little girl in the yellow dress had become a woman?
The list goes on. There are too many what-ifs, and allowing my mind to wander too deep will surely drive me mad.
I lift the red lid from the box that’s hardly big enough to hold a bracelet. There’s a sharp pang in my chest as I remove the white ribbon with a cherished memory attached to it. Its shape and feel of silk are still familiar to me. It was such a long time ago, but I remember it so clearly.
“Hello, Nicoli.”
I fold my fingers around the ribbon and slip it into my pants pocket. I let out a breath, closing my eyes for a second, draining my glass and steeling my balls to do what needs to be fucking done.
“Hello, Paula,” I say, turning to face her. Her sleek black hair is pulled back in a high ponytail that highlights her sharp jawline and perfect cheekbones. Her legs seem to go on for days underneath her short navy-blue dress that clings to her body’s curves like a second skin.
‘I don’t like girls who wear short dresses. And her dress was way too short.’
“It’s been a while.” She leans against the doorframe, her cherry lip gloss glistening under the light of my bedroom. “I must admit, I was quite surprised when you called me last night.”
“One could say I’ve been feeling a little…nostalgic.”
Her leering gaze slithers down my body, and she bites her lip when she stares right at my crotch. “It’s been too long.”
“No strings, Paula,” I warn, and she shoots me a coy smile.
“As always.”
“Good. Just as long as we’re on the same page.”
“Tell me.” She saunters in, swaying her curvy hips. “Why me when you have practically every woman in this city pining over you?”
I slip my hands into my pockets and square my gaze on her. “As I said, I was feeling nostalgic. Thought a trip down memory lane would be exciting.”
“Hmm-mm.” She stills in front of me, and lust is practically seeping from her pores. I can see the hunger swirl in her willow-green eyes, and I know she’s willing to do whatever I ask. She’s always been this insatiable goddamn bunny who would fuck all day long. But the real appeal? She’s not clingy. There’s no need for post-sex spooning or syrupy-sweet texts first thing in the morning. All she needs is to get her pussy wrecked.
“Why now?” Her voice is low, husky, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips.
I reach out, touch her chin, and she lifts her face to mine. “I’m in the mood to indulge with someone who already knows how I like it.”
“You mean someone who doesn’t linger for pillow talk.”
“Exactly.”
She eases her fingers around my wrist, guiding my hand to her throat. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”
I tighten my fingers around her delicate neck, squeezing just enough to cut off her air supply. Her glistening lips part, her eyes already hooded, and we’ve barely begun.
With a snarl, I let go of her throat, and she gasps for breath while smiling wickedly. Biting her lip, she cups my cock in her palm. I’m nowhere near hard, and she notices, and excitement flashes in her irises as she accepts the challenge. “Close the door, champ. I don’t want to waste a single second.”
I glance at the door, and Paula pulls her lips together.
“Expecting someone? Which brother will be joining us this time?”
“No. It’s just us.” I grab her waist and pull her close. “But the door stays open.”
“Oh.” Her face lights up. “Going for some exhibitionism, are we? As far as I recall, that’s never been on the top of your kink list.” She reaches for the hem of her dress, winding the fabric up between her fingers. “But leaving a mark is.”
There’s a dark pull inside me as I peer down at the whitened scar on the outside of her thigh. I remember that night, how the blade of my Espada pocketknife seamlessly slit her skin, tears of scarlet leisurely trailing down her leg. That was the night I realized I had a brutal taste for the dark. The sight of blood mixed with primitive pleasure.
I slant my head to the side, studying the scar I left all those years ago. “I can still hear you whisper my name as the blade left its mark. You loved it.”
“We ruined your mother’s flowerbeds that night. Hydrangeas, was it?”
“To this day, she still thinks it was Caelian and Isaia.”
Paula snickers, then instead of pulling the skirt of the dress back down, she eases it up and over her head, letting it dangle off two fingers before she drops it to the floor with dramatic effect.
I raise a brow. “I see someone had some work done.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I distinctly remember your tits being less than a handful.” I reach out, cupping her breast, its round weight solid in my palm and larger in size. “Now it’s almost two hands.”
“A girl’s gotta keep up with the times. Now, are we doing this, or are you going to talk me to death?”
There’s this nagging voice in the back of my head screaming at me to stop. But Alexius was right. The connection between Mira and me is strong, and I have no choice but to sever it. It’s the only way I know how to protect her from me. Her hate would be the wall between us, a division that would keep her safe.
This needs to happen.
I slide my hand from Paula’s tit, up her shoulders, and behind her neck, winding her long, sleek ponytail around my fist. I yank hard, and her lips part as she cranes her throat. Leaning in, I brush my lips against her earlobe. “Be a good slut and get on your knees. I need my cock wet before I fuck you.”
She shudders, a soft gasp escaping her. “Yes, sir.”
I’m sick to my stomach as I watch Paula go on her knees. Reluctance smears a film of bitterness in my mouth. Regret is already gnawing at my spine, and the worst part isn’t even over yet. My soul is sickened, and my heart grows heavy as she unzips my pants, pulling out my cock. My insides are coiled tight, and I close my eyes when she takes me in her mouth, starting gently. A moan vibrates behind my pressed lips as my cock hardens slowly the farther she sucks me to the back of her throat. But it’s not a delighted moan. It’s more of a tormented whimper.
I hate this. I hate myself. But it is what it is.
Tonight…everything changes.
Mira
My heart is beating impossibly fast. I’ve had too much champagne, spent too long walking down memory lane, and am way too optimistic after getting Nicoli’s message. He wants to speak to me, requesting that I meet him in his bedroom.
There are tiny flutters of nerves in my stomach, and then there’s my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth because I’m fucking parched. That might be from the lingering effects of drinking too much champagne. Or that might be because I have no idea what Nicoli could possibly want to speak to me about.
Nicoli spends ninety-nine percent of his day ignoring me, so hearing he wants to see me in his bedroom is both shocking and nerve-wracking.
After our encounter in the hallway, when my towel decided to betray me, letting me drop into an ice-cold bucket of embarrassment, I have no idea what to expect from him. I’m not blind. I’m not naive. I’m not dense. I felt the connection between us crackle with electricity, how the air around us became palpable and laden with sexually charged energy. And when he crouched in front of me, the sound of him inhaling deep, the tip of his nose brushing against my sex…God. I reach the top of the stairs and grab hold of the rail, steadying myself, forcing oxygen into my lungs. Just thinking about it is enough to make me drench my panties.
I glance down the corridor, knowing Nicoli’s bedroom is just around the far-end corner. What if…what if he’s finally ready to talk about…us?
The question hangs in the air as I take a tentative step forward, but my nerves are jangling, and I find it hard to get myself to move quicker. My palms are clammy, and the air seems to thicken the closer I get to his room. Am I even ready for this? Whatever this is?
Good God, Mira. Pull your shit together.
I reach the corner and inhale deeply as I close my eyes, imagining the air filling my lungs in elegantly flowing circles. It’s all I need to grab hold of the calm demeanor I’ve mastered so well, even though my insides are utter mayhem.
“You can do this,” I mutter to myself, then lift my chin and square my shoulders, taking those few steps around the corner and up to his bedroom door.
I come to an abrupt stop, the ground beneath my feet suddenly falling to pieces. For a moment, everything is hazy, surreal, until the scene in front of me comes into focus.
A strained gasp moves past my lips, and he looks up, his ocean-blue eyes staring straight into mine…right before my gaze falls to her.