I was still at the Fierri's house by the evening. I hung out with Luciano, Cesare, and the guy I met at the nightclub named Aloi.
We played pool, and I schooled them in Call of Duty. I also spent time with Mama Fierri. She offered to teach me how to cook. She showed me how to properly chop vegetables for a Chicken Noodle soup we made.
My first attempt was horrible and I ended up cutting my finger. It wasn't too bad that it would need stitches, but it was a bad enough that it had to be bandaged and wrapped to stop the bleeding.
By the second time around, I was getting the hang of it. We placed the cut up vegetables into the pot of steaming hot water and watched it boil down.
"You want to make sure you stir occasionally so the noodles don't stick to the pot."
Mama Fierri hands me the soup spoon and I do as she says, occasionally checking the pot and stirring when needed. "This smells amazing."
"You're doing so well cara(dear). Keep it up and you'll be better than me."
I laugh at that. "I highly doubt it, but thank you for the compliment."
She laughs as well.
Once the soup and bread rolls are done, I help Mama Fierri set the table. She gives me a high five and everyone starts flooding in to eat. All except Niccolo of course.
Maybe I should check up on him, bring him some soup. What am I thinking? I shouldn't do anything. If he's hungry he'll come out to eat right? Ugh, I can't decide.
I don't know why I want to help him, but I do. Maybe it's because I feel bad, and the compassionate part of me can't handle the idea of not being able to help in any way I can. I'd want someone to do the same for me.
Daimon and Isabel wave at me as they climb into their seats, tearing me from my thoughts. They are so adorable. I spent a little time with them as well.
They are masters at the game of hide and seek. I started to panic on the inside when I couldn't find Isabel for over an hour. It turns out she and her brother like to hide in cabinets.
I spoke with the oldest, Miko. He reminds me so much of his dad, but with an actual sense of humor.
"Autumn, why don't you go take this to Niccolo. I'm sure he's hungry."
I turn to face Mama Fierri, and take the bowl of soup from her hands. "Uh, are you sure? He'd probably prefer to see one of his brothers take it to him instead."
She shakes her head. "I know my son," is all she says, which makes me even more nervous.
She nudges me forward with a smile. Turning back around, I make my way towards Niccolo's room.
I should not be doing this. Especially when I know he'd probably find humor in my serving him like a housewife from the fifties.
Balling my hand into a fist, I give his door a soft knock.
There's no response.
So I knock again and wait a few more minutes. When he still doesn't respond, I turn to leave. Just as I ready myself to return back to the dining room, the door is flung open.
I pause where I stand, before cautiously turning back around to face him so I don't spill the soup all over the floor.
My eyes immediately take in his tattoos and muscular build. He must of been about to take a shower, because he's standing before me in a towel that hangs dangerously low off his hips. My cheeks heat up, my mouth going dry.
Oh my damn.
I zero in on the worded tattoo peeking out of his towel located above the curve of his pelvic bone. I can't read the words as they are in Italian and cut off by the towel around his waist.
He doesn't look as broken down as he did last night. He hasn't necessarily healed, but he also doesn't look like he should be sent to the ER.
He glances down at the soup in my hands. For a second, I think he's about to slam the door in my face, but instead he pushes the door open more, steps aside, and giving me room to enter.
"Are those my clothes?" He asks, tilting his head to the side to get a better view of me.
"Probably."
I slip past him, walking over to his nightstand and setting the bowl down. This is weird. I'm not use to this at all. Is it weird that I kind of miss the banter between us?
Yes, it was immensely annoying and pissed me off to no end, but it also gave me something to look forward to at work. I looked forward to pissing him off, as he did me.
Shutting the door closed, he doesn't say a word as he walks over to his dresser and unexpectedly drops the towel. I stare at the towel pooling at his ankles, before my eyes drift up to his bare ass.
Oh my God.
It isn't until he turned around that my heart falls out of my ass. And no matter how much I inhale, oxygen refuses to pass into my lungs.
My mouth is gaped open from the shock, my eyes focused on all of him. The boxers grow damp from the sight.
Fuck, this man is beautiful.
It's not until a minute or two later that I'm able to form a sentence. And even that comes out nervous and breathy. "W-what are... you doing?"
"God, you sound like Luci." He rolls his eyes, turning away from me to rummage in his drawer. "Besides, you're in my room."
His back is to me. His muscles, biceps, calves, ass, everything flexed. I lick at my lips in a failed attempt to moisten my parched lips.
I want to lick and kiss all over him, taste the saltiness of his skin and inhale his musky scent.
My other lips are wet as all hell. I shift with discomfort, unable to tear my lust filled gaze from his torn, tattered, and ripped body.
"I can come back or-"
"Oh please," he scoffs. "Don't act like you don't want me to fuck you right here and now."
"I could say the same to you, pretty boy," I counter with a playfully wicked grin, finally building up the usual confidence I'd lost a moment ago.
He's pulled out a pair of boxers briefs similar to the ones I currently have on, but doesn't put them on. Instead he sets them down on the dresser and saunters over to me, free-balling and all.
My eyes almost pop out of their socket from how shocked I am. It's hard to impress me. And it would be an understatement to say he wasn't the most impressive thing I've ever seen.
I'm backed against the bed, having no choice but to fall back. Pinning his hands on either side of me, I notice the way his eyes have darkened and glistened, a lopsided devilish smirk reaching his blackened eye.
His hand as well as the rest of him is still injured, but he doesn't seem to care. I swallow hard, my first time coming across someone equally as bold as me.
I see why men get so nervous when I say what's on my mind or tell them blatantly what I want. It's intimidating. And it makes you want them more.
"I brought you soup," is the only words I can manage as I'm currently flushed, and my mind not properly functioning at the moment.
It's hot- too hot. He's so close. It's not like he hasn't been this close to me before, but the determination in his eyes makes it clear that I won't be leaving this room the same way I came.
My chest rises and falls, my breathing so obviously heavy. "I'll do more than fuck you, princess," he growls out lowly.
His eyes skim over my body as if I, too, am naked. I felt naked, even though I was fully clothed.
"I'll taste that defiant little pussy of yours as well. But only if you be a good girl and beg me."
I clench my thighs together, my entire sex feeling like a second heartbeat as it frantically, excitedly, nervously, and scaredly thumps against the now drenched boxers. All I have to do is beg him and he'll take me like I've never been taken before.
I want to scream the words at him, but something is holding me back. And I know exactly what it is. I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be controlled again. I'm afraid I'll lose my freedom once he claims me. That part of me is petrified as hell by the idea.
Geez Autumn, just let him rail you already.
My inner self is fighting, battling against the part of me that still has their common sense in tact. So I ask, "How do I know you won't keep me hostage like a caged bird dying to spread her wings?"
He quirks a brow. "As long as you know you're mine and mine alone- fly all you want little bird. Because at the end of the day, I know you'll come back to me."
He's still staring at me, waiting for the words he's been dying to hear since we met.
I shake my head. "It's not going to be that easy, pretty boy." I reach up to grip a handful of his hair, and shove his head down. "So get on your knees and serve me like the princess you claim me to be."
"Mmm alright," he hums, dropping to his knees. "I'll let you be in control tonight, but that will be the last time you tell me what to do, princess," he warns calmly.
He looks up at me, before licking his lips. "I'm going to taste you because I want to, and not because you want me to."
Pulling the underwear off my body, he lets them drop to the floor and doesn't hesitate a moment longer. His lips fiendishly lap, bite, and suck at my aching skin.
"Oh, fuck..." I moan out, arching my back.
He's devouring me whole, his lips and tongue sloppy with my juices and his saliva. Other moan fills the air. "Please don't stop Nic. Please," I finally beg.
Hearing me finally beg him sends him into overdrive. His tongue ravishes my walls hungrily like a starved animal. I don't hold back as I come into his mouth while I spasm under him.
"Puta madre(mother fucker)!" I shout. I pull him up by his hair. "I need you inside me right now."
Thinking the same thing, he grabs a condom from his nightstand, tears open the wrapper and rolls the latex over his length.
Climbing onto the bed, he tugs me on top of him as he flips us over. Grabbing his cock, I don't waste anymore time.
Shoving him inside me, I slam down onto him fully, the length reaching the deepest depths of my insides. My moan comes out like more of cry from the invasive feeling.
Planting a few kisses down my neck, he lays back down. "Ride my cock like it's yours, princess. I want to watch you come all over me."
I simply nod, biting my lip and tossing my head back as I begin to move. My hips rock back and forth on the length, rushing to feed my hunger- both of our hunger.
"Yes, just like that. Make my cock your bitch, you little slut," he groans, snarling at me.
Grinding faster, I begin to pant and moan out his name. "Niccolo... fuck... Niccolo."
I start to slow down, feeling my release just a stroke away. He grips my ass- hard, resulting in a yelp. It hurt. But it also felt so good. "Don't stop bitch." I do what he says and return to my original pace.
I'm coming around him in less than a second. I wish I was able to last longer. I use to be able to last longer, but maybe they just weren't hitting it right. Because now, I can't even last five minutes.
He notices the disappointed look on my face. "Don't worry, princess. I'm nowhere done with you yet."
He flips us over a second time, only I'm lying flat on my stomach. Roughly spreading my thighs apart, he slides back into me, taking me from behind.
"Yes, yes, yes!" I cry out, not caring if someone, or everyone hears. "Fuck me harder."
And he does. Skin slaps against skin in a thunderous sound, pleasure coming from both sides. He groans, cursing repeatedly. "Who's pussy is this?" He barks, thrusting his hips forward like a mad man.
"Yours!"
"Who's is it?" He barks again.
"Yours!" I shout again.
I'm coming again, screaming and bucking against him. My insides hurt and my legs feel like jelly from loss of control.
He pulls out of me, motioning with index finger. "Come here." Quickly slipping off the bed, I get down on my knees in front of him. He yanks the condom off, tossing it onto the floor. His thumb traces over my lips. "Open," he demands.
I open my mouth, accepting every inch of him into my mouth. I want to gag, but manage to keep it together. He fucks my throat, aggressively slamming into the back in a continuous loop.
Resting my fingers on his pelvis, I slurp myself off him, tasting what he did to me. I moan into his length, loving the groans coming from him.
He tosses his head back, his veiny hand resting on the back of my head, forcing me to keep up with him. Saliva drips down the corners of my mouth, the salty taste of his pre-cum only giving me a boost of energy.
"That's it. Take it all like the little freaky fuck you are."
My fingers dig into his skin, my jaw tightening from exhaustion. It feels like forever before he finally let's loose.
Hurriedly withdrawing himself from my mouth, his release explodes onto my face in hot loads.
"Cazzo(fuck)..."
He disappears into another room before returning with a warm, damp towel. I stare into his hazel eyes, speechless and confused, as he cups my chin, and begins wiping the aftermath clean off my face. He's gentle, nurturing.
"Thank you." He shrugs, and I glance over at the soup I had completely forgotten about. "Damn it, your soup is cold." I frowned, upset at myself for getting distracted so easily. I bring my voice down to a whisper. "I worked hard on that soup too. Do you want me to bring you another?"
He simply chuckles, grabs his towel and wraps it around his waist. "There's no need. I'm full."