Autumn's POV
I couldn't get out of bed. I tried several times, but my body just wouldn't cooperate. I laid on my bed, naked, and limply sprawled exactly where Niccolo had left me. I was in so much pain. I felt like I'd been crushed by a boulder.
My voice was hoarse, and it hurt to swallow. He'd fuck the shit out of every hole in my body. He'd given me exactly what I've been asking for. Someone to break my back and leave me with Scoliosis.
Niccolo was gone when I woke up ten minutes ago. There wasn't a trace of him in sight, except for the evidence he left on my body. Bruises, hickies, and more hickies.
Attempting and failing to sit up, I slump back down, wincing from the pain. My bedroom door opens, causing me to jerk my head, resulting in another wave of stinging pain.
Niccolo stands in the doorway with a bag of groceries in his hands. He's dressed in a black tee shirt and equally dark jeans. His watch glistens in the sunlight pouring into my room from the window.
I didn't think he was coming back. Which made last night all the more real. He'd told me he loved me. The butterflies in my stomach flip around with joy, my entire body warm with happiness.
"Why aren't you dressed?" He questions with a curious brow, his Italian accent so sexy and beautiful.
"I can't move," I mumble, embarrassed. "And it's all your fault you asshole," I chide with a whine.
He chuckles. Of course the asshole chuckles. He's always finding my misery and misfortune humorous.
"Actually, it's your fault," he counters. "You talk a lot of shit, but can't take the consequences." He shakes his head with a tsk.
"I think I handled you pretty well," I say with a triumphant smile.
He eyes my bare body, not convinced. "Right, sure you did." I roll my eyes. Setting the bag down on my nightstand, he leans down and lifts me into his arms.
He carries me over to my bathroom, the tub filled to the brim with hot water. Gently placing me into the tub, the water burns my skin, but helps to soothe my aching bones. I release a sigh of satisfaction.
I look up at him longingly, watching him grab a fresh rag off the sink counter and kneel down beside me.
Dipping the rag into the water, he grabs the bar of soap and mixes it in until the rag is covered in foamy white soap suds.
He's gentle as he glides the rag over my breasts. He cleans the sex off my body in a nurturing, loving manner.
"What have you done with Niccolo Fierri, because this is not the one I met," I say jokingly.
He doesn't smile, which makes the smile on my face fade. He sighs, looking down. "I wasn't always like this. My father made me this way." The rag glides down my stomach.
"What do you mean?"
"I've seen a lot of things a child shouldn't see, and as a result, I began to find torture, pain, and fear therapeutic. I loved my father, but it quickly turned to hate after he was murdered. In my mind, he'd left me, abandoned me when I needed him most."
"Are you talking about being a drug addict?"
He nods. "I was on my way to him for help when I got a call from Marcel telling me he died. I flew into a rage, crashed my car into a tree, and turned to drugs, sex, and torture as a coping mechanism."
I could feel his pain, his hurt. I reached up and cupped his chin. It broke my heart to see him like this. So vulnerable, so in pain.
"I'm sorry that happened to you Niccolo, but you can't keep doing this. Whether it's intentional or not, you're destroying yourself."
"I know," he whispers.
"So stop. If you can't do it for yourself, or your family, then do it for me. I won't watch you kill yourself. I just won't."
"I'll try."
"Good." Giving his lips a quick peck, I smile at him, hoping to ease the thick fog of sadness and pain surrounding us.
He gives me a small, subtle smile, shifting his attention back to bathing my body. The rag brushes my aching sex, a whimper surfacing.
"Does that feel better?"
"Yes." I hook my fingers around his arm. "Can you go a little faster?"
Adding more pressure, the ache I was feeling almost diminishes completely. Water splashing blends in with the sensual sounds erupting from me. Dipping my head, I rest my forehead on his arm and close my eyes.
I think about Niccolo ravishing me on his bed- my bed, against the wall, at the nightclub twice. The way he made me orgasm with his gun in less than three minutes. The way he endlessly worshipped my pussy, while calling me degrading names. The way he confessed his love for me while taking me from behind.
That was enough to have me trembling, my orgasm an explosive one. "Mmm, I hate you... so... much," I whisper in an airy moan.
Pulling back the rag, he wrings out the excess water, and lays it neatly on the tub's rim. Standing to my feet, I latch onto his shoulder to prevent me from slipping as I step out of the tub.
"Get dressed. Breakfast will be ready in a minute."
Breakfast?
I hurriedly made my way back to my room, my stomach grumbling excitedly. I rummaged around my closet, shrugging on a solid yellow crop top and a pair a dark gray leggings.
After combing out my mangled curls, I parted my hair down the middle and braided them into two separate pigtails.
Exiting the bedroom, I follow the trail of delicious smelling breakfast foods into the kitchen. I pause when I see Niccolo standing in my kitchen shirtless and cooking bacon.
I lean against the entryway, lightly nibbling at my fingernail. Niccolo turns off the stove, using a pair of tongs to transfer the bacon onto a plate.
Turning around to set the plate on the island, he looks over at me. His eyes trail down my body, then back up to meet my gaze. "Sit."
Walking over, I hop up onto the stool, eyeing the vanilla yogurt with mixed berries and granola, toast with butter and a choice of strawberry or grape jelly, and the bacon. I reach for the bacon first, the crunchy taste making me moan in delight.
"I didn't know you could cook."
"Knowing how to cook is a must in the Fierri household. I'll have to cook for you sometime." He scans the breakfast he laid out in front of me, before adding, "for real."
Shifting to the parfait, I grab the spoon beside it, scoop up a spoonful and pop it into my mouth. Another moan leaves my lips. "What's your speciality?"
"Pizza," he says, watching me eat.
"Aren't you going to eat?" I ask, nonchalantly scooping up another spoonful, and slowly licking at the yogurt.
He tenses, his eyes fixated on my tongue making love to the parfait on my spoon. "I'm not- stop," he warns, his brows dropping down into a disapproving look.
I stop, but only to get down and walk around to grab the honey located near the microwave. Popping off the lid, I pour the honey onto the spoon. Proceeding to contiune teasing him, I draw out another more erotic moan.
"Stop, he says again. "You know what you're doing."
I decide to play dumb as I had that night at the club. "I don't know what you mean?" I quirk a brow, fighting to suppress the smile trying to make itself known.
"I'm not doing this again with you," he argues.
Stepping closer to him, I purposely pour the honey onto his chest. "Oops," I say with a bite of my lip. He angrily glares down at me. I stare up at him with a smug smile.
Sticking out my tongue, I slowly, very slowly lick up his abs and over his nipple. I can hear his heartbeating as I watch the way his chest rises and falls abnormally fast.
He growls lowly, his breath tumbling onto my forehead. "Fuck it." Squeezing my waist, his nails dig into the skin of my inner thigh. I'm maneuvered around, so my ass his pressed against him.
I'm slammed into the edge of the island, my now hardened nipples brushing against the cool granite. I laugh a playful laugh and say, "I thought you weren't hungry."
My thighs are pushed apart. Reaching over me, he grabs the butter knife off the counter. "Be still," he barks in a demanding tone.
"For wh-"
He doesn't give me a chance to ask my question, as I feel the fabric of my leggings suddenly being torn and split all the way from my crotch to my rear.
Gasping, I glance back at him with a deadly glare. "I just bought these!" I whine in protest.
"You should've thought about that. Now you're going to face the consequences."
I can hear the sound of him unzipping his pants. A condom is pulled out from his back pocket. Ripping the foil open, he smoothly rolls the condom on.
"And what if I like the consequences?"
A large hand forces my head down on the table, my cheek squished against the cold counter. "I knew you would."
He slams into me again and again and again and again. It's so deep and feels so painfully good. If I wasn't crippled before, then I sure as hell will be now.
Entangling his fingers into my hair, he jerks my head back. My ass bounces against him in a ripple of waves. "You're always so wet and ready for me, princess."
"That's. Because. You. Make. Me. Horny," I tell him, panting through each thrust.
I'm maneuvered to another position, while he's still inside me. His injured hand rests on my back, while the other hand brings my hips down on his length continuously.
I meet him half way and he thrusts his hips forward, meeting me with the other.
Sifting my fingers through his soft black hair, I crash my lips onto his. My lips are wet, swollen, soft. He kisses me back with equal hunger, tasting the honey on my lips and in my mouth.
Both our moans and groans fill the entire living room and kitchen. I think one of the neighbors was knocking on the door to make a noise complaint, but left when they realized I wasn't going to be answering.
By the last stroke, I'm gripping the edge of the island and experiencing an amazing orgasm. Niccolo joins me shortly after, grunting as he releases his warm load inside me.
"I hope you're on birth control," he says, dropping his head down with exhaustion. He lays his head on my chest, panting softly.
"Yes, of course."
Peeling off the condom, he stands up and discards the latexed glove into the trash. My eyes zero in on his cast. "Does your hand hurt?" I ask, changing the subject. I've been so worried about me that I haven't thought to ask him how he was doing?
"No, not as much as it did before." He clenches and unclenches his hand, staring down at it. "Luciano says I should I be back to normal in a few weeks."
"What are you going to do about Sin?"
I notice the way he balls his hand into a fist at the mention of Sin. He looks up at me, his eyes filled with murder.
I've seen that look in his eyes before, only this time it's not directed at me. It didn't make it any less scary.
"I wasn't going to kill him at first, but after what he did to you..." he seethes, growing angrier as he struggles to finish the sentence.
I bring him closer to me, and wrap my arms around his waist. I look up at him, my chin resting on his chest. "Hey, I'm okay," I tell him softly.
I could tell he was going back to that place. That place of darkness where his demons have tormented him since he was a boy.
He's not looking at me. He needs to look at me. It's the only way I can keep him from going down that path again. "Nic, look at me."
He reluctantly twists his head to look down into my eyes, the creases in his forehead fading. "See, I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere."