27 / bleeding hearts

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NICO THROWS ME ONTO the bed, ripping his shirt off of him

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NICO THROWS ME ONTO the bed, ripping his shirt off of him.

Literally, ripping it.

I watch in awe as his large, inked hands fly to yank his belt and pants off of him at record breaking speed. He lets out a frustrated groan when his slacks get caught on his foot.

And then he looks up at me.

My heart flips inside out. His eyes look crazed. He looks starved, completely ready to devour me. I swallow and remember Mia's words from earlier.

Set rules.

I swallow, refusing to look away from his stare as he pulls his boxers off and his large erection springs free.

Rules.

I need rules.

He lowers himself atop of me, his hungry gaze trailing slowly down to my cleavage.

"This," He reaches a hand up, hooking a finger beneath the strap of my tank top. A sharp breath escapes me when he lets go of it, letting it snap back into my skin. "needs to come off. Now."

This man can be so bossy. And most of the time, it would irk the soul out of me.

But right now? Right now, it's making my pussy weep.

"Wait," I say, hating how breathless I sound.

His brows pinch together, his features growing impatient, like he can't possibly wait any longer to see me naked.

"What?" He snaps, rushed.

"I was thinking about something."

He lets out a controlled breath through his nose. "About?"

Our faces are mere inches apart, our bodies pressed against each other. I wonder if he can feel the rapid pace of my heart against his chest.

"I think we should set rules."

His body grows rigid against me.

"Rules?"

I nod, biting my lip. "Yes. Rules."

And now his dark brows are pulled together, his eyes flashing with something between hurt and confusion.

"For what?" He says, but I don't miss the subtle rejection in his tone.

I lean onto my elbows and look up at him. "You know, if you're going to keep fucking me, then there should be rules or something."

He blinks down at me. For a moment, he doesn't look like Nico, the unflappable, ice cold asshole. He looks like the shell of a man who's hurt. Detached. Rejected.

And I have no clue why.

He looks puzzled. Like he can't for the life of him understand why I'd request such a thing. And, I'm not totally sure why, but that angers me.

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