Page 43 of Kept in the Dark (Hitmen of Ulysses #2)

Dimitri

I refuse to be alone in this.

The door shuts behind me with a soft click, and I head right for the refrigerator. The house is mostly silent, but the light was on in James and Eleanor’s apartment at the top, so I must be quick to avoid them.

As always, the shelves are filled with neat stacks of Tupperware, but as I examine the labels, I frown. An entire row seems to be only for Nicole. Eleanor does not usually dictate who eats what, so it surprises me. Perhaps Nicole made a special request.

Armed with a few meals for Nicole and a few from one of the unclaimed rows, two water bottles, and a fresh cup of coffee, I head out to the pool house. I pause before entering, and curse under my breath when I hear the shower.

I suppose I will wake her with my head between her legs another day.

It is all right. We have plenty of time, and now we have enough food and water, so we will not have to leave this room today. I will need to rest at some point so I am ready to relieve James’s watch tonight, but other than that, my plans are to keep Nicole naked and satisfied all day.

Last night I held back. I was not as demanding as I wanted to be, as it was our first time.

I will not hold back today.

Today, she will take me as many times as her body can withstand, wherever I want her.

She will know what it feels like to have my hand on her throat, covering her mouth, squeezing a breast to the point of pleasure-pain, or buried in her cunt while I lick her to soothe and tease.

I am going to explore her golden-brown skin with fingers and tongue and teeth, and I hope she fights me, just a little, because it makes the giving in that much sweeter.

When I told her I would take everything from her, it was because anything less is unacceptable.

I could not let her believe that the way I want her is casual or anything less than all-consuming.

I am not here to borrow her; I am here to have her.

She must be mine, because I am hers, completely, and I refuse to be alone in this.

She may not realize it, but last night she claimed me just as fiercely in her own way as I claimed her. My shoulders bear the fingernail scratches, and my lips are bitten and swollen. I am not complaining; I want more.

I place the contents of my arms on the coffee table, remove my clothes, and approach the bathroom.

As I walk, my dick begins to swell. Even the thought of her in there, nude, possibly still dripping with my cum…

the skin around the head of my cock tightens, throbbing with pinprick pulses of need synced to each beat of my heart.

She left the door open—a clear invitation. The sound of her humming—a light tune I do not recognize—spills out through the doorway and wraps around me as I step into the steam.

Due to the design of the walk-in walls, I cannot see her until I am nearly inside the shower with her. I lean against the marble tile, just beyond the perimeter, and grip my dick in a calloused palm, resenting my hand for its size and roughness because it is not hers.

I watch, mesmerized as the water hits and bounces off her shoulders, sending small rivers down her smooth skin. Her back is to me, and every small movement as she rinses her hair makes her ass jiggle. Knowing how her flesh gives way under my touch makes me want to reach out and squeeze it.

My hand tightens, and I move it faster. There is a distinct flesh-on-flesh sound that it makes, and I know she hears it because her humming falters.

She throws me a look over her shoulder, eyes falling first on my cock before dragging up to my face.

The way her eyelids lower is sultry, as is her curved smile of feminine satisfaction.

“I had a fantasy about this,” she says, letting her eyes drop back down to what I am doing. She licks her lips.

My cock jerks and I nearly fall back against the wall at the unexpected shot of desire. “Of what?” I croak.

“Of you watching me. Wanting. Just out of reach,” she half-turns, and I get the profile view of her breast. The tawny nipple pokes outward, begging to be in my mouth.

“Your fantasy is that I want you?” I nearly laugh as the muscles contract in my lower back and I have to restrain myself from pumping my hips. “I have excellent news for you, Nicole.”

She does laugh. The happy noise fills the air. “I guess it’s an easy one, huh?”

This talk of fantasies will be my undoing—I will spill myself onto the floor or wall, and I refuse to waste it anywhere but inside of or on her body ever again. “Wanting you is constant. As easy as being awake, or breathing.”

Her eyes flash, and she spins to face me fully as I cross over the lip of the shower. She takes a half-step back, moving just outside the spray from the showerhead. “My God, Dimitri. The things you say…”

I reach for her, but she shifts back again.

“Not here, not in the shower. The water washes away fluids, and it doesn’t feel good for me. You and I…” she trails off, eyeing my cock with some apprehension twisting in the corners of her eyes, “we need the lubrication,” she finishes, and my dick jumps like she was talking directly to it.

Maybe she was.

“Then go get on the bed,” I order impatiently.

“On your knees, facing the pillows, bent forward with your legs spread. Stay like that until I come for you.” The thought of watching her waiting, ready, spread and open, quivering with need and anticipation of when I will finally touch her…

my dick pounds painfully now, in time with my heartbeat, swelling with thick desire.

She licks her lips, and I watch as her nipples harden her breasts into rounded peaks. She likes that. And I like very much that she likes that.

“Oh my God,” she chokes. “That’s… oh my God.

I will, I promise you I will, but… You have to give me more than eight hours, Dimitri.

Maybe not after the next time or the time after, but last night was the first time, and our bodies need to get used to each other.

I’m… I need a minute. And some Advil. And maybe a pad,” she adds with a slight wince.

All I heard was her making plans to fuck me again and again.

“Ah,” I say, understanding. I should have anticipated her discomfort, but I do not really care.

If she will not take my cock, she will take my tongue and fingers.

And I watched her closely last night—it hurt her at times, but she did not care then, either.

She liked it. She enjoys some pain with her pleasure.

She is strong, my med , like iron and silk.

The smile on my lips shifts. “I will kiss it to make it better. That is the saying, da ?”

She laughs again, a throaty noise that echoes among the water spray, bouncing off the glass and stone.

Tilting her head up so she can catch my eye, she slowly walks towards me and shakes her head from side to side just as her hand closes around my cock.

My body tenses in her grip, and my eyes lose focus for an instant.

“That’s the saying, but I think I want to go first.”

My cock pulses, ready for whatever she wants.

I planned to take her mouth at some point. If this blowjob is a consolation, meant to soften her refusal, I do not care. I will gladly accept any reason to have her mouth on me .

At the end of the shower near the entrance, there is a tile bench that I usually avoid because it is so cold against my balls—that does not matter much to me now.

I sit facing her, and she reaches for the shelf to steady herself as she lowers to her knees.

I halt her with a finger held up, reaching out of the shower to the towel rack.

I jerk one down and lay it on the hard floor for her knees.

She smiles shyly at the gesture in a way that swells my chest with pride.

It is such a small thing, but her gratitude makes me feel like a better man than I am.

I sit back, extending my long legs and making room for her between them. She settles, tucking her feet under her round ass, and slides her hands along the tops of my thighs.

The way she looks at me makes me feel so powerful and desired that I want to honor her like a queen. She is on her knees, but somehow, I am the one fully at her mercy; I would do anything she asked, give her whatever she wanted.

How lucky I am, then, that what she wants is to wrap those plush lips around the head of my cock.

Just before she makes contact, I wind my hand in her wet hair and use my grip on it to tilt her head back.

Her fingernails dig into my thighs, and she gasps, pressing her legs tighter together.

I make her stay like that for a few seconds, still and waiting, and watch as the water drips down her skin, sparkling in the low light.

From this angle, my cock looks monstrous next to her, sticking up straight so it appears nearly the length of her head. I wonder idly how she will fare—how much of it she will manage to swallow. Does she know how to relax her throat?

After a few seconds under my admiring scrutiny, she squirms.

“Dimitri,” she breathes, her chest rising and falling. A single droplet of water beads on the very tip of her nipple, and I press the tip of my finger against it and bring it to my mouth. Her eyes round, watching me, then close on a hissed exhale .

“Yes, Nicole?” I ask. I can be patient. I want to hear her say it.

“Please, I… I want…”

“What do you want?” I challenge. I know now that she struggles to vocalize her desires, but there is no cause for shyness here.

She may keep nothing from me, have no barriers to hide behind—not even ones built from language.

She will speak to me with the honesty of her body, and she will ask for what she wants without fear of how I will react.

“I want to… um…”

“Suck my cock?”

She nods, as much movement as my hand in her hair will allow. “Yes.”