Scorned Love: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Scorned Fate)
Scorned Love: Chapter 9

Nico’s tongue forced my mouth open. He devoured me. He angled his mouth and kept pressure in his assault, his tongue ruthlessly dictating the way I responded. I could hardly breathe, all my senses attuned to his plunder. His domination.

And it was hot.

He pinned me against the table, the edge digging against my ass.

He shoved up my skirt, exposing the fevered skin to the cool air-conditioning. He slid his fingers behind my panties. My cheeks burned, knowing what he would find.

He tore his mouth away and snarled, “Wet.”

Before I could say anything, he set me on the table and dragged down my panties. Leaving them dangling on one foot, he dropped to his knees and shoved my legs apart.

Horror had me tensing that he was about to dive in. I dug my fingers into his skull, yanked his head up, and slammed my knees shut. “I need to freshen up.”

“What the fuck?” He glared at me and tightened his grip around my thighs.

“I need to wash.”

“Let go,” he commanded, and I wasn’t sure if he meant let go of his hair or my inhibitions, but he said it in a voice that made me drop my hands from his hair.

My cheeks were flaming, and my lungs couldn’t catch up. Nico was looking at me as if I’d committed a crime.

“I want to taste pussy, not your fancy soap. I want to drown in the smell of arousal I’ve given you. Don’t you dare deny me this. So…can I proceed, princess? Can I show you what it means for a man to eat pussy?”

My lips parted. Oh my God, I’d never been this turned on. If I was wet before, the area between my legs should be a flooding hazard by now. My clit was so swollen, I feared I was going to come with a swipe of his tongue.

He raised an arrogant brow. “I’m waiting, princess.” He tapped the side of my thigh as if scolding me. I bit my lower lip and very slowly parted my legs.

His chest rose and fell, giving me a clue that I was not the only one on edge. He brought his nose closer, and I watched, fascinated as he closed his eyes and breathed me in. My pussy pulsed in response, my butt squirmed, waiting for him to…

He attacked.

He dove in like he was punishing me for starving him. His tongue swept inside and licked along my slick center. He pushed my legs further apart and up until my heels found purchase at the edge of the table. He was pushing me along the limits of flexibility, and I helplessly followed his lead. My eyes shot to the full-length mirror across the table. And I watched how brazenly I spread my legs for Nico De Lucci. His dark head was moving between my thighs and I let him suck me to the pinnacle just as he took me over it. I screamed, my core erupting in exquisite throbbing.

He continued to lick between my legs, nibbling at the sensitive juncture of my thighs in tender little bites. It did something inside my chest, opening a wound, a vulnerability. I was at his mercy, a slave to his domination, and I couldn’t allow it. I needed to regain the upper hand.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. Words that propped up a wall that Nico just shattered.

His mouth stilled in its exploration, and he sat back. Face partly shadowed, inky-blue eyes almost black, he was studying me. I could feel the exact instant the uncontrolled passion I’d seen on his face earlier transform into a veneer of ice.

It gave me chills.

He dragged me from the table, lifted me by my ass, and marched us to the living room with throw pillows scattered around.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

Before I could recover from the mind-blowing orgasm Nico had just given me, he dropped me to my feet and shoved me to my knees. I wiggled my skirt over my exposed ass to lessen my vulnerability, but the clink of a belt and the lowering of a zipper sent my heart sprinting.

Nico gripped my hair and yanked my head back. The head of his cock touched my lips.

“You want to see how I’ll fuck your face and not have it mean anything?” he spoke with cold, mocking precision.

Heat and excitement rose to my cheeks.

His fingers tightened against my scalp, bringing tears to my eyes, but I refused to look away.

“Take me.”

He smeared precum along the seam of my lips. Feeling defiant, I opened my mouth to lick it, to show him I wasn’t backing down.

Bring it on, fu—

He shoved his cock inside, my jaw widening to accommodate its girth. It hit the back of my throat. I gagged.

His chuckle rumbled with mockery. “What’s the matter, Poison Ivy? You can’t take all of me?”

Because my mouth was full of him, and at the angle he had me, I couldn’t look up and glare at him.

“I’m going to fuck your face now. Don’t take it personally. I don’t hate you. I don’t love you. We’re just two people scratching an itch. Got it?”

I withdrew my mouth and scraped my teeth along his length.

“Fuck, you’re vicious.” He tugged my hair before shoving his cock deeper. Tears streamed down my cheeks and my jaw ached, but I was gushing wet and getting so aroused again as Nico continued to debase me.

I refused to give in to nagging shame. I allowed this degradation. He was growing harder and about to come.

He pulled me off his dick and pushed me chest down against the pillows. He yanked my hips up and exposed me again. I heard the crinkle of foil and listened as he said, “Now’s the time to say no.”

I laughed mockingly into the pillow and twisted my head and snarled, “A bit too late, don’t you think?”

“This still means nothing, right?”

“What’s the matter, De Lucci, did I hurt your pride?”

“No.”

“Then stop talking and fuck me.”

His answer was to bury himself so deep inside me, I had trouble catching my breath.

“Been a while?” he choked.

“What did I say about talking?” I gritted.

“Damn you,” he growled. “Damn you to hell.” He didn’t stop this time and pounded. The slapping of his hips against my ass, his grunts, and the low moans that must have come from me bounced around the high ceilings of the loft.

Broken down to my basest instincts, I felt liberated with the rawness of how he fucked me. But with this new sense of freedom, a pinprick of anxiety threatened to deflate my high. I came up on my forearms so I could push against him harder, try to come again, try to push away this encroaching confusion.

I didn’t know how it was possible, but he drilled deeper into me.

He hammered in rapid thrusts before stilling, jerking, shuddering. He collapsed on my back and together we fell sideways on the pillows. I immediately detached and rolled to my side away from him, and stared into the Manhattan night, a little disappointed that I didn’t come again. As I waited for my breath and my heart to slow down, I contemplated how to get us back on track. It was a onetime thing, right?

I felt movement behind me. I could feel his remorse, his regret. He was probably feeling the same way I was. Still figuring out how someone who irritated the hell out of me was the one who’d given me a screaming orgasm and a hard fuck I didn’t know I needed.

One that was so raw and powerful and amazing.

Addictive.

But was it worth the baggage that came with Nico?

Because it didn’t take a genius to see he had issues. I’d heard rumors.

“This can’t happen again,” I told the Manhattan skyline. I owned my pleasures and no one could shame me for it. Nico already had a track record of making me feel sexually unappealing. I didn’t need him to drag me back into that hole of inadequacy whenever he felt like it.

“Your pussy says otherwise,” an arrogant voice countered behind me.

“Logic says we’ll just kill each other.” I sat up and faced him at the same time dragging my skirt over my legs for the second time.

“I can’t think of a better way to go.” Nico was on his back, his head resting under his crossed arms. He hadn’t tucked himself back in and my gaze couldn’t help drifting to where his cock was still erect and nonchalant.

“You need to take care of that condom before it leaks on the pillows.” I didn’t care if it messed up his expensive suit.

“Changing the subject?” he challenged, but he got up. He stared down at me as he lazily pulled it off and deftly tied its end.

“No, I’m just saying we fucked and got it out of our system.”

He dropped on the pillows and relaxed against it. “You need furniture.”

“Stop changing the subject, Nico.”

“The rules can be simple.” He pointed between us. “We already know this means nothing except physical. Fueled by our annoyance with each other? Explosive.”

“It’s toxic,” I croaked. Been there. Done that. Different situation, but I could see the train wreck coming.

“But it was good.” He flashed me a grin. “It’ll keep things between us bearable until we’re sure the Rossis will leave you alone.”

I unslung my shoes, got up, and padded barefoot to the kitchen. “I don’t understand how you went from seeing me as a fence post to wanting to have sex again.”

I opened the fridge. Xander brought home a box of fudgey chocolate cake. Someone sent it to the studio and caused an uproar with the models. There were tears, laughter, and anxiety. Mostly anxiety, so Xander hid the cake, grumbled that we needed to put a lock on the fridge.

I set it on the counter and plated a slice. “Want one?” I asked Nico when he came into the kitchen. He must have gotten rid of the condom. He had shed his suit jacket too.

“Sure.” He thumbed behind him. “I need to get my overnight bag.”

“You’re still staying here?”

His mouth quirked. “I might get morning sex.”

“Don’t count on it. You’ll sleep where Trevor slept.” I picked up a spoon and dug into the cake.

He grabbed the spoon with the cake and shoveled it into his mouth.

I was too tired to get irritated. “I was offering you a piece.”

He shut me up with a chocolate-flavored kiss. It was dark chocolate too. A favorite. I could just picture us rolling on the pillows, eating chocolate off each other’s bodies. As soon as the erotic image came to mind, I shut it off.

“I don’t think I loosened you up enough. And in answer to your question, I didn’t know you were hiding these legs underneath those long skirts you wore, and after seeing that fight tape, let’s just say, instant boner.”

I scrunched my nose. “You’re disgusting.”

He tapped the spoon on my nose and smeared it with icing. He licked the tip. “And you’re adorable.”

He left me in the kitchen sitting with my chocolate cake and confusion.

Nico

This doesn’t mean anything.

She said those words when I was still reeling from the taste of her. Words that twisted lust, hatred, and self-loathing into one massive ball of thorny emotions that had nowhere to go but inside her. I fucked her face and cunt, fucked her feral and filthy, and all it accomplished was to have her burrow deeper under my skin.

Having her once wasn’t enough.

I exited the elevators into the basement garage and grabbed the duffel from the back of the Maserati. On my way back to the elevators, I moved more slowly. I didn’t call the car immediately and sank to my haunches. I needed to assemble my thoughts, rein in my emotions, the lust, the resentment. Resentment for what, I wasn’t sure, but I had a hunch it was the way Ivy threw me into a tailspin—the Ivy effect.

The need to bang her into oblivion was already taking root inside me and made me edgy as fuck. An addict deprived of a hit. I wanted to sleep with her tonight. To wrap myself around her so I could wake up balls-deep inside her.

Fuck. Those thoughts weren’t helping.

I needed to regain control of my baser instincts. I controlled the relationship. I purposely dated self-absorbed women because they were predictable. I didn’t have to trust them with my feelings because they were untrustworthy.

They were safe.

This doesn’t mean anything.

I’d dated women who said they didn’t want relationships with me but then turned around and became clingy. Olga being one of them. But somehow, something in Ivy’s words resonated in the deep creases of my past. A past that made me this way.

Her odd behavior when I was about to go down on her piqued my curiosity. She wanted to wash. I could see her as fastidious, but I intuited something else when she made me stop.

Shame.

When I returned to the loft, Ivy was putting away the cake. “Did you want a slice?”

“No. I think I need something more substantial.” I was starving. I only managed an appetizer at the restaurant, and after boxing and sex, I could eat more. I joined her beside the fridge and widened the door. She stiffened.

“Relax. I’m really hungry for food.”

“There’s leftover Chinese.”

I winced. Ivy rolled her eyes. “Well, excuse me, Trevor likes Chinese takeout.”

“Fine,” I muttered. “I can’t be picky.”

“You could order delivery.”

“Too hungry.” I grabbed the boxes out of the refrigerator. “You need groceries. You don’t even have eggs.”

“Xander and I like to eat out,” she said.

“Obviously.”

“Are you fine here?” she asked. “I’m turning in, and no, you can’t join me.”

I emptied all the boxes onto a plate and put it in the microwave before looking at her. “Yeah, I thought about it. Although you and I could have smoking hot sex, it’ll get complicated.”

“Why? Because we hate each other?”

Something about the word hate didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t hate Ivy. I leaned against the counter and eyed her. “Hate is too strong a word. Our ideals don’t mesh.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“And I admit, and I fully apologize for that fence-post comment. You’re sexy as hell.”

“It’s only because you saw the fight footage.”

“Believe me, it could qualify as porn for guys.”

“Ew, you’re disgusting.”

“It’s true. You know what goes through a guy’s mind when they see a woman kick ass?”

“No, I don’t, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”

That sass was making me hard again.

“Here’s a woman who could take a hard pounding.”

“Which is exactly what you did to me,” she said dryly, but I noticed how she crossed her legs.

The plan was to make Ivy ask for it. No, I wanted her to beg for it. Shit. If I kept up with these thoughts, I would be the one begging for it.

“Too much for you, princess?”

“Pfft, no.” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs. I resisted from smiling when she gave them an extra squeeze. She was still feeling me all right. Or she was wet again. Fuck. “But I’m glad you’re seeing it my way. With Sera and Matteo coming back in two days and Bianca in the fashion show, we might be around each other more. The less friction, the better. If we can tolerate each other before then, I’d appreciate it.”

The microwave dinged. I turned around to take the food out of the appliance and not respond to her. I sat behind the counter. Ivy handed me chopsticks.

“Care to join me?” I asked.

“Would it make me a terrible host if I left you in the kitchen?”

“Not really, but I would appreciate the company.” I’m not letting you run away that easy, princess. We could start slow.

She pursed her lips as if deciding what to do. “Fine.”

“I hope it works out with Sinclair and you can get in with that fashion mag,” I said in the same breath as, “Can I have a glass of water, please?”

Ivy turned away to fulfill my request. I didn’t want her to be defensive about Sinclair and made it sound like I was just making conversation.

She was still in her miniskirt. Still barefoot. Her top hung loosely at her hips. Was she wearing panties?

“Hopefully you didn’t piss him off with that alpha-male posturing.” She slid the glass in front of me but remained standing.

“Just making sure he wasn’t taking advantage. He doesn’t have a stellar reputation with women.” I lifted the plate to my face and started shoveling food the way you were supposed to eat rice with chopsticks.

“Slow down, or you’ll choke,” Ivy admonished. “We can’t choose how someone lives their lifestyle.”

I lowered the plate. “That was some nasty divorce, though.”

“You don’t know what happened in their marriage. Stop being judgmental.”

“I’m not. I’m just being cautious. You’re apparently aware the wife accused him of physical and mental abuse.”

“Edward and I agreed to leave the past in the past and not talk about it,” she retorted. My chopsticks froze in the air and I glanced sharply at her.

She realized what she had said and opened her mouth to say something.

I waited.

No words came.

Out of nowhere, rage frothed in my lungs. It felt like I was having the mother of all fucking heartburns.

“Did he do that to you, Ivy?” My voice sounded foreign to my ears. Almost guttural.

“No.” Her response came out in a shaky breath.

She was lying.

“I have an early day tomorrow.” She headed out of the kitchen. “Is eight too early for you?”

I wanted to grab her and sit her in front of me. Demand she tell me about her relationship with Edward Sinclair. All of it. Everything that happened between them in the past. Because if there was any doubt they’d been lovers, I was fucking sure of it now. How far into the past was the question. I wasn’t getting much sleep tonight, and neither was Trevor because he was helping me dig up information on Edward Sinclair.

“I’m your bodyguard. You dictate the time.”

She smiled at me briefly, but she couldn’t disguise the haunted look on her face.

If Sinclair was in front of me right now, I’d torture the truth out of him, but I had to tread carefully, because fashion week was at stake. I’d already inadvertently caused problems because of Olga.

I watched Ivy disappear from the kitchen, then I attacked my food while contemplating my next moves.

I called Trevor.