268- Intimate Distance

268- Intimate Distance
POV Raica:

Nick sent a photo.
I enlarge the image to see the Dubai sunset. What a beautiful view—illuminated buildings and the ocean in the background.
I sigh, foolishly.

Nicholas, a mystery I uncover day by day. In the bad-boy posture of the troublemaker brother, I see the opposite of what he truly is. I’m not making excuses for his harsh, obsessive, and chaotic moments—his unbearable actions are reflections of his scars. I don’t judge him. I wanted to blow up the world when I lost my brother. Maybe I would have if I had access to an atomic bomb. In short, they’re internal bruises that turn reckless attitudes into agents of chaos. I came to know Nick’s reasons up close, and I don’t condemn his conduct. I don’t condemn it because pain often rips us out of our shell abruptly, and we’re not always dressed in good feelings when it happens.

I like him.
Fuck, I like him a lot.

Nick is the improbable, the inexhaustible reason for my most genuine smiles. This morning, when I woke up alone in his bed and only his scent lingered as consolation for his absence, I replayed everything from the start, questioning how I could ever have believed something would happen between us. How could I have foreseen that a world of sadness would fall onto my head, and that a rough, brash man would stop me from hurting even more? It’s terrifying to remember the cruel tricks of fate. The perverse way my heart was torn out of my chest and buried six feet under.

I haven’t recovered—not completely. I still feel the constant pounding, the annihilating longing, the despair for tomorrow. Without him, without my brother, I don’t know where this is all going. I only decided to live every second intensely, without wasting a millisecond of sensation.

I return to admiring the photo and reply to his message:

Me:
What a beautiful view.

Nick:
I really wish you were here.

Me:
Me too, especially since you’re going to a ball at the Sheikh’s palace and I’m heading to work at São Bento. Pretty unfair, isn’t it?

Nick:
Hahahaha really unfair. But how many minutes do you have?

Me:
About fifteen, why?

Nick:
Turn on the camera, I want to see you!

He requests a video call, and I accept.

“Nossa… the view just got a lot better,” I say, panting, drooling over his sculpted abs. Nicholas lets out a sexy laugh and slides his hand over the ridges pressed to his skin. He’s sitting back, relaxed against the upholstered headboard. I run my tongue over my lips. “I’d lick every contour if I could,” I murmur shamelessly.

“Slut, I just wanted to appreciate your face and you already have bad intentions.” He fills his hand with his cock. “Look what you did, I’m hard.”

“What do you mean hard?” I lie on my stomach on the bed, propping the phone on the pillow in front of me. “Curiosity is my middle name.”

He gives a half-smile so filthy it makes my pussy wet instantly.

“If we start, we’ll have to go all the way,” he warns as he unbuttons his dark dress pants.

I play innocent.
“What are we talking about?”

“Are you sure you don’t know?” He pulls down the zipper, and in two motions his cock springs free from his boxer briefs. Fuck! “Look at the state of my dick, hard as hell. Wanting your mouth, your pussy, and all it’s got is my hand.”

“Wow…” I salivate. What a fucking gorgeous cock. “Give me an international show. Imagination is never too much.”

He laughs wickedly, his clever hand beginning a slow stroke.
“I’ll moan in Arabic.”

“Allāh! I think that’s hot.”

“Aren’t you going to give me some stimulation?” His request comes out hoarse and piercing.

“A Brazilian siririca? I know you’re wet, Bella.”

A slow shiver creeps up my spine.
“How do you know I’m wet?”

I shift into a position that gives him a full view of my body—and especially what he craves.

“Your flushed face gives it away.”

“I’m not blushing.”

“Yes, you are.” And I am, so I don’t even argue. My skin burns like hellfire, and the center of my thighs begins to throb. “Lift that pencil skirt. I bet the lace is black.”

He always guesses the color of my lingerie—probably because most of my pieces are black and Mr. Cactus is always snooping in my panty drawer. Intimacy we’ve built in a week. Honestly, we’ve broken multiple barriers in this single week. I obey and pull up my skirt. Nick groans at the sight of the sheer lace and speeds up his stroke.

“I miss that little pussy…”

“I miss that delicious cock.”

“Touch yourself for me, Bella.”

My fingers slip inside the dark tulle, sinking into my slick folds. I massage the layers as if caressing the edges of a rose. With my free hand, I angle the phone so Nick has a privileged view—and me too. Our moans blend in unison as we pleasure ourselves, feeding off each other’s arousal.

“Fuck, how I wish I were in place of those fingers, tasting your pussy before pounding you deep. Then I’d put you on all fours and fuck that tight ass like I did in the cabin.”

His filthy words fire up my nerves. I slide in two fingers, grinding my clit with the heel of my hand. I learned back in adolescence how to please myself, to know my body and its sensitive points.

“Shit, Bella, you consume my mind, you know that? I can’t stop thinking about you, delicious.”

“Oh, yeah?”

I can’t stop thinking about you either.

“Fuck…”

I quicken the rhythm of my fingers, moaning like a bitch for him. Despite the video, the screen, the distance, our eye contact is so erotic and full of lust it burns everything, floods everything.

“I’m going to cum, Nick.”

“Your taste feeds my mouth. I’ll feel your orgasm on my tongue.”

Nicholas pounds his cock with intense strokes, encouraging my movements even more. My body combusts, twisting as I shut my eyes and cum, melting into a fierce orgasm.

“Raica…” I hear his hoarse voice calling me, so I let my head fall to the side. I savor the view of his flushed cock, the tip dripping, centered on the camera. My languid post-climax body reacts to Nick moaning as he cums. The sensation is carnal, obscene.

“Damn… that was good.”

“Yes, very good.” I smile, biting down on my lower lip.

“I already miss you.”

“Oh, my black girl.”

“My what?” I sit up in bed. Damn, he’s never called me that before, and I… loved it. “Say it again.”

He frames his phone to show his face and says:
“My black girl.”

My smile is huge, it barely fits on my face.