Nico grunts on every plunge down and I cry out on every slippery stroke upward as we find our rhythm together. Instinctively, I try to move to reach out and touch him, but his grip holding my hands above my head tightens, keeping me in place. I feel possessed, completely and totally possessed by this man. And it’s that feeling that sends me over the edge.
I moan through my orgasm, unashamed by what I feel. What he makes me feel. Nico’s body tightens in response to my orgasm and the heat of his semen pouring into me extends my own release. Together we furiously give ourselves over to the pleasures of our bodies; loud, obscene sounds coming from both of us as we both realize we are climaxing together.
***
I wake in the morning to a warm hand tracing the curve of my spine up my back slowly as I lie naked on my stomach. I wiggle a bit as he reaches the top of my ass, his thick fingers halting only for a second before they continue their assault downward, gently pushing their way in between my ass cheeks, tracing the outline of my most private areas. A little giggle comes out when he continues his tracing underneath me, finding my still swollen clit.
“Shh.” Nico’s voice is gentle now. So different from the demanding man who came to me in the middle of the night to stake his claim. He leans over my back and gently kisses the back of my neck, leaving a sweet trail of wet from the nape of my neck up to my ear. “I want you.” His voice is low and throaty in my ear and it sounds incredibly erotic.
“So take me.” I whisper on a small moan as his teeth sink into my ear.
“No. I want you to give yourself to me. I want you, Elle. All of you.”
I turn over to face him and it’s like the first time I’ve ever seen him, even though we only fell asleep a few hours ago. His hair is disheveled and he has the start of a five o’clock shadow on his masculine jaw. The vision steals my breath away. I reach up and cup his jaw in my hand, my thumb stroking his cheek where I know a dimple hides just beneath the surface.
Our eyes meet and I realize he’s serious. He’s not being playful. He wants me to give myself to him and not just in the bed right now. “I want to… but I’m not sure I can.” I respond with honesty.
Nico shuts his eyes and I think I’ve hurt him again. I can’t stand to hurt this man anymore. But then he opens them and surprises me. “We’ll work on it. Together.”
A lone tear escapes my eye and Nico brushes it away before I give myself to him, in the only way I can at the moment. And he takes what I give him, making love to me sweetly when I need it most.
***
We don’t get out of bed all day, making up for lost time. I missed these quiet moments when we just lay in bed, my head tucked into the crook of his broad shoulder, him stroking my hair with his big hand so gently. I run my finger up and down his breastbone, mindlessly feeling the bumps and curves of the walls of his thick muscles along the way. I’m happy, but there’s a gnawing feeling lurking just beneath my contentment. I know there are things we have to talk about, things that will ruin everything. But I just want to stay in the here and now for a little while longer. I love the way he looks at me, selfishly I don’t want it to change. But I know it will when he finds out.
Sensing my distance, Nico lifts my chin upward to look at him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Babe. I know we still need to talk.”
I panic, desperate to just be us a while longer. “You need to feed me first.” I give him a wry grin. As if on cue, Nico’s stomach growls, and just like that I get a reprieve. At least for a little while.
***
As usual, Nico lifts me and seats me on the counter while he cooks. I’m wearing his shirt and watching the sinfully sexy man walk around my kitchen in only his jeans, the top button of which is still open. He’s a walking paradox with the ripped muscles of his chest exposed as he moves around the kitchen barefoot, almost gracefully, tossing eggs into a bowl to whip with some other stuff I didn’t even know I had in my fridge. He passes me on his way to the stove and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. Delicious.
We both devour everything on our plates. I hadn’t really even realized how hungry I was until the food was right in front of me. Everything Nico has cooked me has been better than a restaurant would serve. I’m really not quite sure if my opinion is just that biased about anything related to Nico Hunter, or if he’s that great of a cook. But I don’t really care. I’d take the sight of him cooking with no shirt on in my kitchen every day, even if the food tasted putrid.
I tell Nico to relax and begin to clear our plates and load the dishwasher, but he helps me anyway. “You cooked, you don’t have to help me clean up.” I smile at him. “Besides, it’s the only thing I’m good at in the kitchen.”
Nico comes behind me as I load our plates into the dishwasher and bends down to kiss the back of my neck softly. “But the sooner we get cleaned up.” His words trail off as he runs kisses down my neck and over to my left shoulder. I let my eyes drift closed and enjoy the moment. When he finally continues his thought his voice is lower and velvety. “The sooner we can get our talk over with and get back into bed.”
My eyes flash back open and reality comes crashing in as my stomach drops. There have been days, even months, filled with regret over the sins of my past, but I’ve never hated the man that ruined my life more than I do right at this moment. I don’t blame myself anymore. I blame him. Blame him for everything that happened before and the years he took from me as I struggled to get my life back after. But I’ve never hated him more than I hate him right now, because he is about to take yet another part of my life away. The way that Nico looks at me.
I can’t stall any longer. I think of what my therapist would tell me to do if she was sitting right next to me, watching me act like a coward. She’d say rip the Band-Aid off. Allow the wound to breathe...to heal itself. The worst part is the anticipation of the tear, not the tear itself.
So I take a deep breath and quietly lead Nico to the couch. He sits and pulls me on top of him, one leg on each side of his thighs, straddling him on his lap. I can’t have this conversation while I’m this close. I need distance. I begin to lift onto one leg, attempting to reposition myself off of him, but Nico firms his grip on my hips.
I look up at him confused. “I…I’m just moving…”
“I know what you’re doing.”
My face must show my confusion, because Nico doesn’t wait for me to respond.
“I want to talk right here.”
“Why?” Truly, I’m confused by his action…refusing to allow me to put space between us.
“Because it’s harder for you to avoid me when I’m right in your face.”
And I thought I was doing such a good job of ducking our conversation.
I shut my eyes and take a long deep breath in. When I open them, Nico’s watching me intently and it makes it that much harder. But I need to do it. I rip the Band-Aid off and show him my wounds. The horrific wounds I’ve been carrying around, alone, for more than half of my life.
“My father was abusive.” My words are low, but I’m steady. I can do this. I look down at Nico’s bare chest as I speak and find a tiny dot of a freckle just to the right of his belly button. It’s so small I hadn’t noticed it before. But now it’s all I can focus on. My eyes are glued to it. Nico’s hands on my hips grow tighter. I’m not sure if he thinks I’m going to bolt or if he unconsciously does it in response to the start of my story, but either way somehow it helps me. Just knowing he is holding me tight gives me the strength to continue.
“Not me. Just my mother. It went on for years. Sometimes we would leave, but he would find us and everything would be okay for a little while. But then it would start again.” I rub my pointer finger over the little freckle, the slow back and forth motion soothes me. When I was a kid and my father would start in on my mother, I would sit on my bed and rock. Rock back and forth. Somehow it calmed me.
Nico doesn’t say anything, he just keeps his strong hold on me and sits quietly. Waiting and listening. “It got bad. On
e night he beat her so bad that she didn’t get out of bed for more than three weeks. Her nose was broken and both eyes were so swollen shut that she would flinch when I would come into her bedroom, because she couldn’t be sure if it was me or if it was him.” My voice cracks, but I don’t cry. I just wish I could tell the story without reliving the picture in my head. The few times I’ve told the story out loud, it’s always the same. I’m back there and I’m narrating what I see in my head, giving the play-by-play, as if the little girl isn’t even me.
“On the twenty-third day, she got out of bed. The bruises were starting to heal and her face was mostly grey and yellow. The swelling had gone down too. She stood in the kitchen and made me a can of soup. It was Campbell’s. Chicken and Rice. She put it in the brown and white striped croc bowl that I loved to eat out of. I remember thinking it was the best thing I ever ate.”
I quiet for a minute as I watch my mother and I sit at the table and eat soup together. It plays out in my head as if it was really right in front of me. She smiled at me and I smiled back. It didn’t make things all better, but I remember thinking we were going to be okay. I had a strange feeling of relief as we sat there and ate in silence. For three weeks I must have been walking around with my shoulders feeling tense, but I didn’t realize it until I felt them ease as we finished our soup.
My shoulders relax a little. Then I take a deep breath, knowing what would come next. “Then he came home. We were still sitting at the table, our soup bowls still in front of us when he stumbled in. Drunk. He was always drunk. And angry.”
I close my eyes and fight back my tears. I know what comes next, I’ve seen it in my head a thousand times, but each time it’s as hard to watch as the first. It never gets any easier. I’m not sure how long I sit there in silence, willing my tears away. I don’t even realize I’ve stopped speaking and gone somewhere else until I hear Nico’s voice.
“You don’t have to, Elle. Just let me hold you and forget the past.” His voice is gentle and kind and caring and it takes every ounce of strength in my body not to give in and just let him hold me. Take care of me and make it all go away. But I can’t. I need to rip the Band-Aid off.
My mind back in the present, I find the freckle and reclaim it as my focus, continuing with what I have to say. What I need to say. “He almost killed her that night. He lifted her by her throat and crushed her windpipe. She couldn’t breathe. But that wasn’t good enough. He wouldn’t stop.” The tears start to flow from my eyes, but I won’t let them keep me from what I need to do. “He wouldn’t stop. He just hit her over and over again. And she made this noise. This horrible noise because she couldn’t breathe. She was gasping for air, fighting with what little she had left.” The tears turn into sobs and I feel my body trembling.
“Come here, Baby.” Nico tries to pull me to him, but I won’t allow it. I need to get it all out.
For the first time since I started speaking, I look up at Nico. His eyes are pained and filled with unshed tears of his own as he watches me cry and listens to my story. I take one more deep breath and look into his eyes when I speak, my words coming out quiet, but their meaning unmistakably clear. “I killed him. I knew where his gun was hidden and I shot him.” Nico’s eyes widen, he wasn’t expecting what I told him. “That’s why I know.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I know what you feel like.”
***
I cry until there are no more tears left. I don’t know how much time passes, but Nico holds me tight until my body is wrenched of every last sob and tear. And I let him. For the first time in my life, I let someone else hold it, even if it’s just for a little while. He holds the pain and the guilt and the burden, all of it. And with the weight lifted from me, I fall asleep. Sound asleep.
Chapter 41
Nico
Elle shifts in her sleep and I tighten my grip. She hasn’t budged in hours, not since she fell asleep in my arms. I eased my back down onto the couch and laid her out on top of me while I held her. My arms are numb from holding her so tight, but there is no way I’m letting go. Not ever.
I thought I understood what it meant to feel pain, but I had no god damn clue until I saw her face. Seeing her pain made anything I’ve went through pale in comparison. Worse than a blow to the chest, the pain is physical and emotional. The urge to hit something is almost unbearable. How could any human being do that to a woman, no less in front of a little girl? Forcing a twelve-year-old to defend her own mother at the cost of taking her own father’s life. No, not her father’s life. She took the life of a monster, who deserved it. I only wish it was me. Wish I could take it all away and let it be me who went through it, not Elle.
She looks so peaceful when she sleeps. I’m pissed off at myself for not being there for her when it happened. Deep down I know it’s irrational to hate myself for not protecting her when I hadn’t even met her yet…but it doesn’t make the feeling go away just because common sense tells me it’s impossible.
When I froze in the cage and beat myself up over it, this little angel reaches out to help me, knowing that it will only bring bad shit to the surface again for her. And what do I do when she puts herself out there for me? I basically turn my back on her. I’m so fucking self-centered…so worried about myself that I make her retreat. It must have taken everything she had to reach out and try to help me with what she bears herself. I’m a total asshole.
Chapter 42
Elle
I’m confused when I wake up. I don’t even remember falling asleep. But I’m lying on top of Nico and he’s holding me so tight that for a minute I forget what happened last night. I told him. And now he’ll never look at me the same. Even my therapist and friends I met in group change when they hear my story. Everyone except Regina. She understands me because she has her own cross to bear. Some look at me with pity, others think I’m a monster…that there is no justification for taking another life. I know what they think.
I have no idea what time it is, but the sun isn’t peaking in through the window yet, so it must not be morning. I try to close my eyes and force myself back to sleep, but my bladder has other plans for us. I attempt to gently slip out of Nico’s arms as he sleeps, but his arms tighten around me and pull me back into place.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice takes me by surprise, I thought he was sleeping.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” I respond to his chest, I’m not ready to see his beautiful green eyes. The ones that used to look at me like I was special, like he wanted to devour me.
Nico’s grip loosens and I quietly get up without another word and make my way to the bathroom. I’m horrified when I look in the mirror. My face is all puffy, blotchy, and red and there are black streaks of makeup dried on both cheeks. My hair is a tangled mess on one side and the other side looks as if it was glued to my face. Wonderful.
I wash up and do my best to look presentable, but there’s not much to help a swollen face except time…and maybe some ice. I make my way back to the couch in the dark where I expect to find Nico, but he isn’t there. For a second I panic and think he’s already left me, but then I hear him walking behind me.
“Bath or bed? I feel like I’m gonna break that little girly couch you have every time I move an inch.” He wraps his arms around my waist from behind as he speaks and it takes me a minute to realize what he’s asking.
“Bed.”
I’m thankful that we manage to make it to the bedroom without turning on any lights, I’m not ready to see his eyes. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, but I’m being selfish and just want to pretend nothing’s changed a little while longer. Nico waits until after I’m in bed before climbing in and then he climbs in next to me. Lying on his side, he wraps his arm around my waist as I lie on my back and he pulls me so I’m lying next to him. His big hand reaches up and pushes the hair that’s already fallen out of the hair tie I had just secured out of my face. He rubs his thumb up and down the side of my cheek and my eyes close, relaxing at his touch, s
o gentle and soothing.
“You okay?”
I think before I speak. “Not really.”
I can’t really see his face, but I feel him nod once, accepting my response.
A long moment of silence passes before Nico speaks again. “What are you most afraid of right now?”
I know the answer right away, but I think about how to respond to the question anyway. I don’t try to catch the few tears that roll down my face, hoping he won’t notice in the dark. But Nico’s thumb catches my tears.
I still haven’t summoned the courage to answer his question, when he speaks again. “I’m afraid I’m not good enough for you. That I’ll drag you down into the hell that I belong in with me.”
The few tears that had escaped become the eye of the storm and suddenly the torrential downpour hits and I can’t stop them. But I force myself to answer through them. “I’m afraid to see the way that you’ll look at me…now that you know who I really am.”
Nico pulls me to him and wraps me tightly in his arms. I cry…really cry, feeling years of pent-up tears flow from my body. It’s exhausting and strangely freeing at the same time. He doesn’t loosen his grip on me until I have nothing left.
Eventually my breathing calms and the tears are all gone. I begin to drift off to sleep, but then suddenly it’s light and I have to force my eyes closed to ward out the stream of brightness. Nico turned on the light.
“What are you doing?” My eyelids are still pressed tightly closed as I speak.
“Open your eyes.” Nico’s voice is soft, but his words are a command, not a question.
I don’t respond, and I also don’t open my eyes.
“Elle, baby, open your eyes.”
His tone is so sweet, I’d find it hard to deny him anything when he talks to me like that. So I do it. I open my eyes a little and look up at him. His beautiful green eyes are right there, so close to me. And they’re waiting. Waiting for me to look back at him fully. I allow it, allow my eyes to fully open and look into Nico’s. At first I’m just looking at the eyes themselves. The beautiful color, the dark pupil in the sea of soft green, the thick dark eyelashes that frame the beauty God has given the man. But then I find myself looking past the surface and I’m searching. Searching for what I expect to find there. Then I realize. It’s not there. No pity, no shame, no doubt. And my eyes widen when it hits me.