I should've pushed him away.
Nicholas' hand on my ass was a brand— claiming, possessive-but the tequila in my veins had turned my bones to liquid.
His grip tightened as we danced, his erection pressed against my back like a threat. Or a promise.
"Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"
His voice was smoke and velvet, the kind that slithered under skin. I told myself I was only saying yes to spite Derrick. To prove I wasn't the frigid prude he'd accused me of being.
Calla's grin when I told her was downright feral. "Be good," she said, like either of us believed I would.
The Maserati
The car was a predator, low-slung and gleaming. Just like its owner.
"Like what you see?" Nicholas purred, fingers tracing my thigh as I slid into the passenger seat.
I let my gaze drag over him-the cut of his jaw, the bulge in his slacks. "I like all I see."
His knuckles whitened on the gearshift
The Elevator
The elevator was a cage.
The second the doors closed, he was on me-lips at my throat, teeth scraping my pulse point. My moan was pathetic, but his growl of approval lit my veins on fire.
Then the doors opened, and-
Christ.
Floor-to-ceiling windows. Manhattan glittering like a spilled jewel box. A king's view for a man who thought himself a god.
Nicholas didn't give me time to gawk.
His kiss was a battle, tongue and teeth and dominance.My dress hit the floor.
His shirt followed.
I wasn't gentle.
My nails scored his back as I shoved his jeans down. His cock was thick, angry-red, twitching in my hand.
"Fuck," he hissed when I took him in my mouth, fingers fisted in my hair. "Look at you. Pretty little wreck."
I hollowed my cheeks, swallowing him deeper, until his hips jerked and he came down my throat with a snarl.
THE FALL
He didn't ask permission.
Just flipped me onto the couch, hooked my knee over his shoulder, and ruined me with one thrust.
"Nicholas—!"
His name was a prayer and a curse. He fucked like he fought-relentless, brutal, beautiful. I came screaming, his teeth in my shoulder, his release hot inside the condom.
After, he dragged me against his chest, fingers tracing the bruises he'd left.
"That," he murmured, "was a fucking disaster."
I was asleep before I could disagree.