Chapter 48 The First Strike
Chapter 48 The First Strike
Nikolai:
I stood behind Francesca, sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders, and her dress pooling at her feet.
It had been nearly a month since Jasmine left. Her absence killed me on the inside. Francesca wasn’t her, she never could be. But she was familiar, willing, and since then, that’d been enough to dull the edge.
“Don’t you have places to be?” I murmured against her neck, my voice low and rough, even as my teeth grazed her skin.
“I’m right where I need to be Nik,” Francesca replied seductively, arching her back into me. She turned in my arms, her hair tumbling over her bare breasts, and her nipples already hard from the cool air and anticipation. “And I’m never leaving.”
Before, I would have felt repulsed by what she had just said. But instead, I pulled her mouth closer in a bruising kiss, one hand fisting in her hair while the other gripped her ass, lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around my waist, grinding against the hard length straining behind my trousers. The kiss was all teeth and hunger, no tenderness, just raw need.
Then I carried her to the bed and dropped her onto the black silk. Francesca propped herself on her elbows, watching as I stripped. Jacket, shirt, belt, each piece discarded with impatient precision until I stood naked, cock thick and heavy, already leaking at the tip. Her gaze always darkened with appreciation whenever she saw it.
I crawled over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. I latched onto a nipple with my mouth, sucking hard enough to make her gasp, then soothed it with my tongue. I moved lower, spreading her thighs wide. She was already wet, glistening. Then I dragged my tongue up her slit in one slow, filthy stroke, tasting her, before focusing on her clit, sucking, licking, two thick fingers thrusting deep inside her without warning.
“Fuck—Nikolai,” she moaned, hips bucking. Her fingers twisted in my dark hair, pulling me closer as I fucked her with my mouth and hand, relentless until her thighs trembled and she came with a sharp cry, soaking my chin.
I didn’t give her time to recover. Rising, I flipped her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up so she was on her knees. One rough palm pressed between her shoulder blades, keeping her chest down against the sheets. I rubbed the head of my cock along her slick folds, teasing, then slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
Francesca cried out, her fingers clutching silk. I groaned, my eyes closing briefly at the tight heat enveloping me. I pulled back slowly, then drove in again, with deep, hard strokes that made the bed creak and her breasts sway beneath her.
“This is what you came for, isn’t it?” I growled, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a print. “To be fucked like my little whore while I pretend you’re enough to fill the void.”
“Yes,” she gasped, pushing back to meet every thrust. “Harder. Use me.”
I did. Gripping her hips with bruising force, I pounded into her, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room alongside her moans and my low grunts. I reached around, my fingers finding her clit again, rubbing tight circles until she clenched around me, coming a second time with a muffled scream into the sheets.
My pace then faltered as my own climax built. I pulled out, flipping her onto her back once more. Climbing over her, I stroked myself roughly, then pushed back inside her spasming heat. A few more savage thrusts and I buried myself deep, groaning her name as I spilled inside her, shuddering.
For a long moment, we stayed locked together, breathing hard, our bodies slicked with sweat. I rested my forehead against hers, eyes closed, chasing the fleeting numbness.
Francesca ran her nails lightly down my back. “Still thinking about her?” she whispered.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I kissed her again, slower this time, but no less possessive, as if I could fuck the emptiness away one more round before the night ended.
Francesca now lay curled against my chest, with one of her bare leg tangled with mine beneath the sheets. Her fingers traced lazy patterns against my skin while my arm rested around her waist out of habit more than affection.
Neither of us had spoken much afterward. There was no intimacy in this. For her, maybe there was. But for me, not really.
But even now, with Francesca by my side, all I could think about was her.
Jasmine…Elena.
The woman who had ruined me without even trying.
Francesca tilted her head slightly, studying me again. “You are thinking about her, aren’t you?” She stressed this time.
I stared at the ceiling.
“You knew that before you got into my bed. So why are you asking?”
A faint smile touched her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “And yet I still did it.”
I didn’t answer, because there was nothing to say. She shifted closer anyway, resting her chin lightly against my chest. “You should sleep, Nik.”
Sleep. The idea almost amused me. I hadn’t truly slept since Elena disappeared from New York.
But just as I was about to close my eyes, a sharp, urgent knock hit the bedroom door.
Francesca frowned immediately. “At this hour?”
Another knock came, harder this time.
“Don.”
Matthew.
I sat up instantly. Something was wrong.
Francesca sighed softly as I got off the bed and reached for my boxers from the floor. I pulled them on quickly before crossing the room and opening the door.
Matthew stood there, concern etched all round his face. That alone told me enough.
“What happened?”
“They hit one of the warehouses.”
Every muscle in my body went still.
“Which one?”
“The south dock location.”
My jaw tightened immediately. Weapons, cash flow. One of the most secure operations we had left untouched since Jasmine vanished.
“Casualties?”
“Minimal,” Matthew replied. “But the place was burned almost completely.”
Behind me, Francesca sat up straighter in the bed, suddenly alert. Matthew’s eyes held mine carefully before he added the final part.
“They left a message.”
“What message?” I asked as something chill settled in my chest.
Matthew didn’t hesitate.
“From the Godmother.”