Page 10 of Madness & Mercy (Deadly Sins #1)

NICO

Fuck…

He’s trembling, and I’ve barely laid a hand on him.

You’d think he didn’t just straddle me in the middle of the night like he couldn’t help himself. Like his cock wasn’t already pressing hot and hard through those tight jeans when I pulled him down against me.

And now? That hesitation in his eyes, that flicker of fear beneath the defiance?

It only makes me want him more.

He tries to act like this doesn’t affect him. Like he’s not grinding down against me right now, even without meaning to. But his body’s already given him away. Goddamn, I fucking love the way his breathing stutters every time I move beneath him.

I drag my hands slowly up his sides, nails grazing the ridges of his ribs. He shivers.

“Funny,” I murmur. “You climb on top of me, wake me up with that needy little look in your eyes, and now you act like you didn’t want this.”

“I didn’t,” he snaps.

But I feel the twitch in his thighs. The way his cock jumps when I press my hips up just a little harder into him.

“You’re a terrible liar,” I growl, sliding my hands up his chest and over his throat, thumb brushing his pulse. It’s racing.

I tilt his chin up with two fingers, forcing him to meet my gaze.

“You want to be in control so bad, don’t you, piccolino?” I whisper. “But your body knows who it belongs to.”

He swallows hard, and that’s all the permission I need.

I flip us in one motion, slamming him onto his back and pinning his wrists above his head. His breath punches out of him in a harsh gasp, but he doesn’t fight it.

He’s hard. So fucking hard. And I haven’t even stripped him yet.

Leaning down, I mouth along the sharp line of his jaw, lips dragging to his ear.

“I’m going to ruin you, Julian,” I whisper. “You came on my fingers like a fucking virgin last time. Let’s see how loud you get when it’s my mouth.”

His eyes widen, just a little. But he doesn’t tell me no.

I’ve never gone down on a man before.

Hell, I’ve never even thought about it.

But Julian Cross? Strung out beneath me, chest heaving, cock straining against the front of his jeans?

I want him so fucking bad my brain can’t keep up with my body.

I want to ruin him.

Make him squirm. Make him beg. Make him need it so badly, he forgets his own name.

His breath hitches as I sink lower, my mouth tracing a line down the center of his chest, tongue flicking over his nipple. His back arches, and I laugh against his skin.

So men can be sensitive here, too...

“So sensitive,” I murmur, dragging my tongue lower, letting my teeth scrape just enough to make him tense again. “You gonna fall apart already, cucciolo?”

“Fuck you,” he grits out, trembling.

I grin. “Oh, I plan to.”

I hook my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and yank them down with no ceremony. His cock springs free, flushed and leaking. Desperate. Just like him.

He makes a strangled noise and tries to close his legs, but I press my forearm over his hips, keeping him wide open.

“Goddamn,” I mutter. “Look at you.”

I run my tongue slowly along the underside of his shaft, just to feel him twitch. Then again, slower this time. Like I’m savoring him. His hands fist the sheets. His breathing turns ragged.

“You ever had a man’s mouth on you before?” I ask, glancing up.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw is locked, like he’s trying to pretend this isn’t happening. Like he isn’t seconds from unraveling.

I chuckle darkly.

“That’s what I thought.”

Then I take him in.

All the way.

He gasps—loud, broken, beautiful—and I feel him lose it for a second, hips jerking until I press him down harder.

“Stay still,” I growl against his length. “You wanna come? You take it my way.”

He moans, teeth gritted, trying to hold on. I hollow my cheeks and drag back slow, letting my tongue swirl around the head before diving back down.

He’s falling apart. I can feel it in every tremble, every strained breath.

“You’re mine like this,” I murmur, pulling off with a wet pop. “Don’t care what you tell yourself in daylight. In this bed, under my mouth, you’re fucking mine.”

Then I swallow him down again, bobbing slow, building the pressure like a goddamn symphony. His thighs tremble. His hips twitch.

“God—Nico—don’t—” His voice cracks, high and wrecked.

I hum around him and reach down with one hand to massage the spot behind his balls. His back arches, and I know he’s about to break.

“Please—fuck—I can’t—”

I pull off just before he explodes, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

He lets out a shattered sound, somewhere between a sob and a curse.

“Not yet,” I whisper, kissing the inside of his thigh. “You only come when I say.”

He’s panting beneath me now, flushed and twitching, cock slick and aching.

So fucking close.

And I took it from him.

That little sound he made when I pulled away might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking heard.

I drag my tongue along his inner thigh, slow and teasing, then bite down just hard enough to make him jolt.

“Still think you’re in charge?” I murmur against his skin.

He doesn’t answer.

So I slap the inside of his thigh, not hard enough to bruise, just enough to remind him who he belongs to tonight.

“I asked you a question.”

He lets out a breathless growl. “Fuck you.”

“Wrong answer.”

I climb up his body until I’m straddling his hips. His wrists are already loose from where I held them earlier, so I grab one and press it back down, pinning it above his head.

“God, you’re a stubborn little bastard,” I say, lips brushing his jaw. “But I like a challenge.”

I grind down against him, my cock rubbing against his, both of us hard, both of us throbbing. He moans involuntarily, and I smirk. That was the sound of someone breaking.

“You want to come, Julian?” I whisper in his ear. “You want to come so bad it hurts?”

He bites his lip, his eyes shut tight, like if he doesn’t see me, he won’t feel this.

“Tell me,” I command, rolling my hips again. “Tell me what you need.”

“Don’t make me say it,” he rasps.

“Oh, I’m not making you do anything. You’re the one who climbed on top of me like you were starving.

You’re the one dripping all over my sheets right now.

” I reach between us and wrap my hand around both our cocks, squeezing just enough to make him gasp.

“You’re the one begging without a single fucking word. ”

He groans, head thudding back into the pillow.

I pump once, slow, and he bucks into it. Again.

Again.

Again.

Then I stop.

His eyes fly open: glazed, wide, and panicked.

“Say it,” I whisper. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come,” he breathes, his voice barely audible.

I lean in, my lips at his ear.

“Louder.”

“I want to come,” he says again, his voice raw now. “Please.”

I pull back and look down at him. His skin flushed, his body trembling, every ounce of resistance stripped down to nothing but need.

“That’s better,” I murmur. “But not yet.”

He groans like he’s in pain. His hips chase my hand even as I pull it away.

“You will,” I promise. “But not until you’re completely mine.”

And then I slide down his body again, mouth parting, ready to make him scream.

He’s wrecked.

Flushed. Gasping. His chest rising like he’s been drowning in want and I’m the only air left in the room.

And I haven’t even finished with him yet.

“Breathe, cucciolo,” I murmur as I settle between his thighs again, hands sliding under the backs of his knees, pushing his legs wider. “You’ll need it.”

He makes a strangled sound that’s half plea, half warning, but he doesn’t stop me. He never does.

And when I lean in, licking a slow, filthy stripe up the underside of his cock, he shudders.

“You’ve been so good,” I whisper, kissing the head, tasting the salt of his desperation. “Begging so sweetly. Maybe you’ve earned it.”

“Nico—fuck—please,” he groans, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. “I can’t take anymore.”

“You can.” I grin against him. “And you will.”

And then I take him into my mouth again, slow and deep, tongue swirling, lips sealing around him like I’ve done this a thousand times. Like I was made to make this man come undone.

Julian cries out, fists tangled in the sheets, his whole body trembling.

I hum around him, the vibration making him thrash. One hand presses hard against his hip to keep him grounded, the other sliding lower, stroking gently, just enough to tip him into oblivion.

He’s panting now, legs trembling on either side of me, every muscle locked and ready to snap.

And then I do it. I take him all the way down.

That’s all it takes.

He shatters.

“Fuck—Nico—Nico—”

His voice breaks as his whole body bows off the bed, cock pulsing in my throat as he comes hard, the force of it wringing a cry from deep in his chest.

I don’t stop. Not until I’ve swallowed every drop. Not until he’s twitching and gasping and trying to push me away with a hand that barely has the strength left to move.

When I finally pull back, he’s completely undone, hair stuck to his forehead, eyes glassy, lips parted in disbelief.

I kiss the inside of his thigh, then drag myself up his body until I’m lying over him, caging him in.

He doesn’t say a word, just blinks up at me like he’s still falling.

I lean down, my breath ghosting his ear.

“See?” I whisper. “Told you you’d beg.”

He doesn’t answer.

But he doesn’t deny it either.

He’s out cold.

His body is still trembling in the aftermath, lashes fluttering as sleep starts to pull him under, mouth parted, breath slow and uneven.

I stare down at him for a long second. He looks fucking destroyed.

Like he’s been used, worshiped, owned… and yeah, that’s exactly what I wanted.

Exactly what he needed.

I brush a damp curl from his forehead and press the sheets over his naked body, covering the evidence of just how thoroughly I unraveled him.

My cock is still rock hard, aching between my legs, the taste of him still on my tongue. But he’s done. I took him past the edge so many times his body can’t even hold itself together now.

I drape the sheets over his body, then quietly slide off the bed.

I step into the bathroom, shut the door behind me, flick the lock, and lean back against the cold tile wall.

Then I shove my sweats down and wrap a tight fist around myself.

Fuck.

The second I touch it, I groan low in my throat. I’ve never been this wound up. It’s not just the physical tension, it’s him, wild and fighting and desperate under me. The way he begged. The way his voice cracked when I took it all away.

I stroke harder, fast and filthy, my forehead pressed to the wall.

I close my eyes and see his mouth again, those pretty little sounds he tried to hold back. The way he whimpered when I swallowed him whole. How he looked at me like he hated me… and needed me anyway.

I grunt, my breath catching.

My hand moves faster.

I own that body now. He might not say it out loud, but I see it every time he looks at me like he’s drowning in it. Every time he doesn’t pull away.

“Julian…” I hiss through my teeth, hips bucking into my fist.

I come fast and hard, shaking against the wall with a curse.

My other hand braces flat against the tile as I ride it out, breathing like I just got dragged through hell and didn’t bother asking for a way back.

When it’s over, I drag a hand over my face and glance down.

Still a fucking mess.

But satisfied.

I clean up quickly, splash cold water on my face, and look at myself in the mirror.

Maybe I’m the one who’s wrecked.