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Chapter 2: The Ride Home
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2026-02-07 11:10:16Chapter 2: The Ride Home
Bella’s POV The elevator doors slide shut with a soft hiss, sealing the three of us inside a mirrored cage hurtling downward. Victor left first—without another word, without looking back. Just a final, lingering glance at my mouth like he was already tasting the next time. The door to his suite closed behind him with the same quiet finality as a guillotine. Nico hasn’t spoken since he pulled his fingers from my skin. His hand is wrapped around my wrist now—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I feel every beat of his pulse against mine. He’s breathing too carefully. Too controlled. The kind of control that means something is about to snap. The mirrored walls throw our reflection back at us from every angle: me in emerald satin that’s wrinkled where Victor’s hands were, lips swollen and red, hair coming loose from its pins; Nico beside me—black suit still impeccable, but jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumps under the skin. His eyes are fixed straight ahead, but I can feel them burning holes through the back of my skull. The elevator dings past floor thirty. I try to pull my wrist free. He tightens his grip instead. “Don’t,” he says. Low. Rough. The first word he’s spoken since the suite. “Don’t what?” “Don’t pretend that didn’t just happen.” Heat crawls up my neck. “I’m not pretending anything.” “You let him touch you.” Each word is clipped. Dangerous. “You let him put his fingers inside you while I stood right outside the door.” My breath catches. “I didn’t ask him to—” “But you didn’t stop him.” Nico finally turns his head. His eyes are black—pupils blown wide, the green almost gone. “You moaned for him, Bella. I heard it through the fucking door.” Shame and something darker twist low in my belly. I should feel guilty. I should apologize. Instead my thighs press together at the memory of how wet I was, how close I came with Victor’s mouth on mine and Nico listening on the other side. The elevator slows. Floor ten. Nine. Eight. Nico’s thumb strokes the inside of my wrist—once, twice. Almost tender. Then he yanks me against him so fast I stumble into his chest. His free hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back. Not gentle. Not anymore. “You think I didn’t want to kick that door down?” he growls against my mouth. “You think I didn’t picture dragging you out, bending you over the nearest surface, and fucking the taste of him right out of you?” My core clenches so hard I gasp. His lips brush mine—barely a touch. Teasing. Torturing. “But I waited.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Because I’ve waited three fucking years. I’m not taking you like some animal in his penthouse. Not the first time.” The doors slide open on the underground garage level. Cold air rushes in, carrying the scent of concrete and exhaust. Nico doesn’t release me. He just walks us out—me tucked against his side, his arm banded around my waist like he’s afraid I’ll bolt. His black SUV waits in the reserved spot—sleek, tinted, the kind of car that doesn’t have license plates anyone wants to run. He opens the passenger door, but instead of letting me slide in, he crowds me against the side of the vehicle. My back hits cold metal. His body pins me there—hard chest, harder erection pressing into my stomach. “Tell me to stop,” he says. Voice wrecked. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll drive you home. No questions. No touching. We pretend tonight never happened.” I should say it. I should end this before it burns everything down. Instead I reach up, fingers curling into his lapels. I pull him closer until our mouths are a heartbeat apart. “I can still taste him,” I whisper. “And I hate that I want to know what you taste like more.” Something breaks in his expression—control shattering like glass. His mouth slams down on mine. This isn’t like Victor’s kiss. Victor took. Nico devours. Teeth clash. Tongue strokes deep, claiming every corner like he’s erasing the last thirty minutes. One hand stays fisted in my hair; the other slides down my body—over the curve of my breast, pinching my nipple through satin until I arch and whimper into his mouth. Lower still. He hooks my thigh over his hip, opening me. The slit in the dress rides up. Cool air kisses bare skin. His fingers find me—slick, swollen, still sensitive from Victor’s touch. He groans against my lips. “Fuck. You’re soaked.” Two fingers plunge inside without warning. Deep. Rough. I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders. He pumps once, twice—curling, stroking that spot that makes my vision blur. Thumb circles my clit in tight, relentless loops. “You came so close for him,” he rasps against my throat. “But you’re going to come for me. Right here. Right now. In his fucking garage.” I’m shaking. Legs trembling. The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside me echo obscenely in the empty space. “Nico—” “Say my name again.” He bites my earlobe. Hard. “Louder.” “Nico—” My hips buck, chasing his hand. “Please—” He adds a third finger. Stretches me. Fucks me harder. Faster. “Come,” he orders. “Come all over my fingers like the good girl you pretend not to be.” The command tips me over. Pleasure crashes through me—white-hot, blinding. I shatter with a choked cry, clenching around him so hard he curses under his breath. Waves ripple outward, leaving me boneless against the car. He doesn’t stop right away. Slows his strokes, drawing it out until I’m whimpering from overstimulation. When he finally pulls his hand free, his fingers glisten. He brings them to my lips. “Open.” I do. He slides them inside—letting me taste myself, taste us. His eyes never leave mine. “Get in the car,” he says quietly. “We’re going home.” I slide into the passenger seat on shaky legs. He rounds to the driver’s side, starts the engine. The low rumble vibrates through the leather. He doesn’t speak as we pull out of the garage and into the rain-slicked streets. But his hand finds my thigh—slides under the slit of the dress. Not moving. Just resting there. Warm. Possessive. A silent promise. Victor may have invited me tonight. But Nico just marked me. And I have no idea how I’m supposed to choose when both of them feel like they already own me.
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