Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(57)

“You’re f*cking mine, Nicole,” he said, thrusting harder.

I groaned, nodding as I tightened around him. “Yes.”

“Say it.”

“My . . .” I gasped when he slapped my ass again. Hard.

“Say. It,” he said through his teeth, slapping my other ass cheek. “Your ass is mine. Your * is mine. Your tits are mine. Fucking say it.”

I did, though my voice was hoarse and my words were quiet. I couldn’t remember him pulling out, or the way he pulled my back to his chest once he came back from throwing the condom away. I couldn’t remember how we fell asleep or what he said to me, but I remembered those words, because I felt him inside me when I woke up before the sun came up and called Marcus to pick me up.





MARCUS’S SILENCE ON the ride home made me uneasy. I could only imagine what a straight-laced guy like him was thinking, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but of course I asked.

“You think I’m a slut,” I said finally, unable to stand the discomfort any longer.

He didn’t respond, not even when I looked over at him and caught him glancing at me quickly.

“You think I’m a slut because I didn’t even wait to finalize my divorce before hooking up with another man.”

At that, I saw the corner of his mouth tilt. “I don’t think that.”

“Why are you so quiet then?”

“I’m always quiet, ma’am.”

“No, you’re not, and you never call me ma’am.”

“Okay. Miss Alessi.”

I glared at him. He didn’t acknowledge me. “Just Nicole, please, unless you’ve decided to go back to being all proper because you think I’m a slut.” Again, no answer. Finally, as we were getting close to my house, he sighed.

“What you do is your business. I don’t think anything less of you.”

“So you’re not mad that I called you before the sun came up?”

He laughed. “That’s my job.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Thank you, and thank you for not judging.”

“That’s also my job.”

I shook my head and smiled as I climbed out of the car. I practically stumbled into my house. My legs were tired, my thighs were burning, my vagina felt like it had been pounded . . . which, it had been, but I hadn’t expected to feel it as much as I did. I hadn’t done the walk of shame in a long time, and I felt a little excited, like I was back in the game. Along with giving me the best sex of my freaking life, Victor had also made me feel desired. I hadn’t felt that way in so long, I’d forgotten the power it held. I stripped off my clothes, showered, and slept like the dead. The only reason I woke was because of Bonnie’s whimpers.

“I know. I know,” I said as I got out of bed and wiped my face. Back to the bathroom I went to brush my teeth and make myself semi-presentable for my new neighbors before I went outside with Bonnie.

I was holding on to her leash with my eyes closed, face tilted to the sun, when a shadow suddenly set over my face. My heart jumped as I sat upright.

“You scared me,” I said. Victor’s face was serious as he looked at me. He turned his face toward Bonnie, who was now trotting toward him. Without saying a word to me, he crouched down and started to pet her. He took her nametag in his fingers and smiled.

“You left,” he said, still looking at my dog. “I wanted to take you to breakfast.”

“I left because I didn’t think it would be smart for me to be there and do the walk of shame in front of photographers.”

He appraised me for a moment. I wondered if he was thinking about what we’d done last night. My stomach clenched at the memory: his mouth on mine, his head between my thighs, thrusting his dick inside me like he was afraid it would never happen again. I felt a blush creep over my face and had to look away.

“That is smart,” he said, finally.

“I thought you’d appreciate it.”

He opened his mouth to say something, and closed it again.

“I had a good time last night,” I said.

Understatement of the century. I wanted to tell him that it was a night so memorable, I’d be sure to have fantasies about it continuously. I wanted to tell him how much my ass hurt when I sat down and how I kept smiling at the recollection of why. I wanted to ask him what his possessive chants meant. You’re mine. Was that just something he said during sex or was it something he said during sex with me? The thought made a flush creep into my face. I ducked my face to hide it.

“I wasn’t sure you did,” he said, “with you leaving before I woke up and everything.”

“Was that a first for you?” I asked, smiling at his handsome, serious face. He smiled slightly.

“You could say that.”

“How are we supposed to go to breakfast without it looking like something is going on?”

He was dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt, looking hot as f*ck, especially now that I knew what was beneath his clothes. Despite the burn in my inner thighs, I wanted to strip him and climb him again.

He looked thoughtful for a moment and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right.”

“I’m beginning to sense a theme here,” I said, smirking. “Me leaving, me being right . . .” His scowl encouraged me to continue. “You know what’s funny? The world seems to think that women are the chasers after a one-night stand. That we go along with it and then are all broken-hearted when the guy doesn’t call, because God forbid we use what’s between our legs to have fun the way guys do.” I paused to smile. His ears were red, which made me smile harder. “So I think it’s funny that you, Mr. I Have Work to Do came over here to chase me down.”