Nico, I wanted him so badly. Maybe this would be enough.
“Again,” his voice commanded in my head, and I stroked my cock in a fast move, groaning my desire aloud then pausing to listen to the silence of the house.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I wanted Nico—all of him. I wanted his hand on my dick, for him to spread me on his desk. I wanted to touch him, to suck his tongue…for him to kiss me like he’d kissed that guy at the bar. I whispered as I thrust against myself again and again, the fever of my barely suppressed crush driving me forward.
“Fuck me,” I hissed. “I want your big hard cock.” The faster I spoke, the faster I moved until my fist slammed against my balls again and again, beating a savage percussion as I pictured Nico and strained for the release he promised if I did exactly as he told me.
My cock grew, swelling in my hand, and I teased the soft skin. I wanted to come, and I wanted to come for Nico. “I want to come,” I gasped as if he could hear me. “Nico, I want to come.”
“One day,” he whispered. “One day your orgasm will be mine.”
As the last thought of him flashed through my mind, I arched my back one final time and my balls tightened before I spilled my cum, catching it in my hand.
I closed my eyes for a moment as the echo of the last tremor rippled through me, then slowly my breathing rate returned to normal.
Shit… I hoped it was enough to work him out of my system.
But a fresh awareness of Nico kindled in my gut, and I drew a deep ragged breath at the realization my fantasy might have only fueled my desire.
6
Nico
I whistled as I shrugged into my button-down shirt. Mom had called the previous night and invited me to breakfast with her. I glanced at the clock. I shouldn’t, really, on a workday, but she was my mother, and I couldn’t deny her anything. Besides, I wanted the chance to reconnect with her. Three weeks was too long. I’d already called Saint to let him know I’d be running an hour or so behind, and Jamie had enough to keep him busy after all the study I’d assigned him the night before.
It would have been so easy to drift off into a daydream about Jamie, but I curled my hands into tight fists and redirected all my energy into those knots of tension. See, I had this under control. Thoughts of Jamie… make a fist. It would be easy.
I slipped my jacket on and grabbed my keys and phone. Mom had said to meet her at Bluebells, although I could have guessed the location—it was her favorite place. I already knew what she’d order. Poachedeggs over an English muffin, easy on the butter.
I was still whistling as I joined her fifteen minutes later. The diner was almost a bistro with a lingering low self-esteem problem. It had been the local diner for years, until the most recent owners had started the most genteel of makeovers, and now the space was open and airy, with the kitchen hidden behind a wall, so the windows didn’t steam up in the cold, and the smell of yesterday’s grease hadn’t sunk into the lightly cushioned booth seating and chairs. Small sprigs of flowers decorated every table, and the wallpaper boasted swathes of muted bluebells.
“Hi, Nicky!”
I looked up at the sound of my mom’s voice, and she waved from her tiny corner table. She liked to sit there, people watching.
“Mom!” I strode across the space, my arms already out to hug her. “You look fantastic.” I shook my head slightly at the realization married life really suited her. She almost glowed, her fresh tan and slightly trimmer figure making her appear more youthful than I’d seen her in years.
I held her at arm’s length for a moment. Maybe I’d just never understood how much work being a single parent took. “I almost put out a missing person’s report, though,” I chided gently before I kissed her smooth cheek. “I mean, you’re lucky I recognized you. If you weren’t wearing my mom’s clothes…” I shook my head and grinned.
She swatted my arm and laughed. “Hey, now!” But her eyes glazed, and the smile fell from her lips. “Oh, Nico.” She clasped my hand. “I’m really sorry I’ve been…absent these past few weeks.”