I Saved the Man He Shot, So the Mob Boss Kept Me novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: His Bed

He shut the door behind us, and the lock did not click, because there was none.

I turned and walked backward toward his bed with my hands already on my buttons.

"Lena," Nikos said, from the door.

"I want you to take your shirt off," I said, "and come here."

He crossed the room.

He took off the sweater and the shirt under it in one pull and let them fall.

I put both hands on his chest, on the scar along his ribs and the gold cross.

I pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Sitting, he was still so tall that his eyes were level with mine.

I stood between his knees and undid the rest of my buttons.

He watched my hands.

I shrugged off the top and unhooked my bra.

His breath went out of him in a long, unsteady rush.

His big hands came up and stopped an inch from my ribs.

"Touch me," I said.

"I'm afraid I'll break something."

"You won't."

He put his hands on me.

They spanned my waist, then slid up and cupped my breasts.

The rough pads of his thumbs circled my nipples until they were tight and aching.

I pushed my fingers into his hair.

He leaned in and kissed the soft place under my breast, then the valley between them.

Then he took a nipple deep into his mouth and sucked while I held his head.

"Nikos," I said.

"You taste like salt," he said into my skin. "I've wanted to say that since the kitchen."

"Say more things."

"I want you on top of me. I want to watch you do it."

"Good," I said. "That's what I want."

I pushed my pants down and kicked them away.

He stood to take off his jeans, undoing his belt with his left hand.

Then he was naked in front of me, huge and flushed, and I could not pretend I was not nervous.

"We can do something else," he said, seeing it.

"No."

"We can go slow."

"Lie back," I said.

He lay back on the bed with his hands behind his head and his eyes on me.

The whole wide pale spread of the sheet was no bigger than he was.

I climbed on and straddled his hips.

His cock lay thick and hard against his belly.

I rubbed myself along the length of it, slick and slow, and watched his stomach tighten.

"Fuck," he said. "Look at you."

"I want you to remember this," I said.

"This is the best thing that has ever happened to me," he said.

I laughed, short and shaky, and reached down and took him in my hand.

I rose up on my knees and set the head of him against me.

He held very still.

The first inch was a stretch that almost hurt.

I took a breath, and then another inch, working down onto him in small movements.

His hands clenched in the sheet and did not touch me.

"Touch me," I said again. "Hold my hips."

His hands came down on either side of my waist.

They were so big that his fingers nearly met across my back.

"Slowly," he said. "Let me feel you."

"You feel me."

I sank, and sank, and then he was all the way inside me.

I made a sound that came from deep in my chest.

He was thicker than anything I had ever had.

He filled me so entirely that I could feel my own pulse around him.

"Oh my God," I said.

"Breathe," he said.

"I am. Don't move yet."

"I won't."

We stayed like that, locked together, his chest heaving under my palms.

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