NICCO

I take a seat across from my beautiful gray-eyed assistant. A sudden shyness seems to overtake her as she mumbles, "I... didn't realize that we were going to have dinner together."

Aria looks happy, though. It is rather adorable. Like a surly teen trying to suppress how excited she feels about something that she should be too cool to care about.

"You are hungry, no?" I note wryly. "Might as well eat with me."

Aria glances up, appearing uncertain as she eyes the delectable spread before us. "Well, there's no need to go through this much trouble next time. Pizza or Chinese takeout would be totally fine."

"Maybe I want to go through the trouble."

Tilting her head to the side, she asks quietly, "How come?"

Because I want you to trust me and tell me what you're hiding.

My jaw ticks slightly.

Because I don't know why I care so goddamn much about making you... happy.

Even I am mystified by my actions. I cannot believe I left work early just to plan all of this shit for her. Earlier this morning, in my office, she mentioned that La Perla was precious to her but too expensive, perhaps.

I can't afford not to come.

Aria had uttered this remark in a joking manner, but, even then, it made me want to give her all the finest things that money could buy. She deserved them. I wanted to shower my assistant with far more than a few scraps of lingerie, but I doubted that she would allow it, knowing her obsession with rules and boundaries. That was why I included the note on the bouquet. To make it seem as though she was doing me a favor by accepting the gifts. I even used my own paycheck to fund them. It did not feel right to dip into mia famiglia's fortune for a romantic gesture that should come solely from me.

Yet, good sense taunts me: Aria's happiness has nothing to do with our arrangement. I do not require her happiness to extract the answers I need from her. Hell, I do not even know why I care so much about digging into her stupid secrets.

"That is for me to know," I grumble, feeling sheepish, "and for you to wonder."

Aria's gaze thins as her expression tightens. She does not look impressed by my response. I observe, "You look like you have something to say."

"I do have something to say."

I look over. "Yes?"

Blushing, she averts her eyes for a moment. "I... really appreciate the gifts you prepared for me, but I don't think I can accept them. They're too expensive. It wouldn't be appropriate, given that I'm supposed to be your assistant. Nothing more."

Nothing more?

I am not surprised by her reaction. I was even anticipating it. We agreed to be "no strings attached," after all. But her rejection pricks me, nonetheless. I am suddenly vexed with her. And myself.

I'm scared, Nicco.

Why did I go through the trouble to impress her?

I'm scared he'll come for me again.

Why do I care so much about this troublesome girl, anyway?

Don't let him find me, okay?

I doubt Aria is in any danger. She is a good girl from a good family who went to good schools.

What does she know of real threats?

I have been overreacting. The guy she is referring to is probably some crazy annoying ex who will not leave her alone. With any other woman, I would not give a fuck. But with Aria—

Frustration grinds through me.

Honestly, I do not know why she is different from the others. The not-knowing makes me uncomfortable. My jaw clenches once more. Maybe that is what I must determine tonight. To prove that she is just like other girls. To get her out of my head. Fuck her out of my system. So I can start behaving more like my usual self again.

"If you do not want them," I toss back with a careless shrug, masking my true feelings behind a voice of boredom, "then throw them away. I have no need of them."

Aria's gaze flickers as though she senses the underlying shift in my mood. My eyebrows lift up when she rises from her chair and crosses over to me. Brazenly, she plants her sweet, rounded bottom right onto my lap and asks, "Are you upset with me?"

Sì.

"No," I grunt as my arms slide around her waist, unable to stop myself from touching her.

Her fingers brush the side of my face. On instinct, I cannot help but lean my cheek against her hand. Turning my head, I press a light kiss into her palm. Despite my disgruntlement, I still like having Aria so close to me, and I adore the feel of her on my skin.

"I may not want your gifts," she mumbles in beseeching tones, "but I want you, Nicco."

My breath catches. Acting as an instant balm, her sweetness soothes the discontent that has been brewing inside me.

"Do you, now?" I murmur, my hands wandering lower and tightening possessively around her hips.

"I do," she confirms with a resolute nod. Then, Aria continues with wide, earnest eyes, "Thank you so much for... everything. The gifts. The food."

Staying silent, I arch an eyebrow in her direction and wait to see what else she has to say.

Aria coughs. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I apologize if it came out the wrong way. I just wanted to make something clear before you and I carry on with whatever this is that we're doing."

"And what is it that you wish to clarify?"

A determined furrow creases her brow. "I'm happy with what we agreed on. I don't need more from you. What we have right now is exactly enough for me."

I withhold a sigh, muttering, "Is that so?"

In truth, I should be pleased with everything she just relayed to me. Aria has basically described my ideal relationship with a woman: The fun and the fucking with none of the effort. Furthermore, I suppose it is nice to know that my assistant is not after my name or my money, unlike the numerous females who have thrown themselves in my path over the years.

Yet, a part of me is not pleased with this development at all.

Why doesn't Aria expect more from me?

And why do I want her to expect more from me?

Porca puttana.

If I am not careful, I am going to let this woman drive me mad. Out of nowhere, an unruly, immature urge to show Aria just how much I do not care spikes in me.

I reach over to cup her cheek.

"In that case," I counter gruffly, dragging my thumb, rough and hard, across her lower lip, "maybe we skip dinner for now."

Her brow creases as she glances over to the untouched spread before us. "Why?"

"Because you did not come here to eat. You came to get eaten, no?"

A wickedness immediately darkens her gray eyes. "You're not wrong, baby boy."

Baby boy?

Fuck that shit.

I give her ass a nice, firm smack. In low tones, I growl, "Remove your skirt, Aria."

Her breath slights. "Now?"

"Now," I command.

"And if I refuse?" she challenges with a mocking smile.

I smirk and palm her the curves of her ass with both hands, squeezing, kneading the flesh, before landing another slap on her rounded cheek. She gasps and winces. I taunt, "Go ahead. Refuse me. And see what happens."

I will not hesitate to turn her over my lap and spank that lush, little ass until she begs for mercy.

Aria's breaths quicken. My implied threat seems to excite her. But she decides not to test me. Without removing her eyes from mine, Aria shuffles off my lap to stand up. Still holding my gaze, she reaches behind to unzip her skirt. It slides down her long, shapely legs, pooling at her feet.

No underwear, of course.

Good fucking girl.

I bite back a groan. The sight of her bare pussy is too much for me. My trousers immediately become too goddamn tight. Her panties are still tucked in my pocket. I may never give them back.

Placing a hand on the small of her back, I guide her back to me.

"Straddle me," I order.

My assistant does as she is told.

I smirk. "Sei una brava ragazza. Mia brava ragazza."

"What does that mean?" she demands breathlessly.

"It means," I assure her with a low, soft promise, "that you are about to get fucked. Senseless."

With Aria sitting on my lap, straddling me, all of my senses come alive. Every touch, every taste, feels so acutely intense. I unzip my pants and yank down my briefs. My dick is hot, solid as steel, and dying for her pussy. I catch her throat in my hand and draw her face toward mine to kiss her. She moans against my mouth, her hands dart forward to cup my face, pulling me closer to deepen our kiss. My other hand dives between her legs, teasing her clit, back and forth, around and around, then back and forth again, until her sweet nub is hard and slick with excitement.

"Take me, Nicco," Aria begs in a strained whisper, panting, "I want it. Hard. Rough. Make me forget everything except the feel of your cock pounding my pussy."

Dio, I love my girl's filthy, dirty mouth.

My cock swells and throbs, I rub the pierced tip against her hot, wet slit. The slick friction feels like sweetest torment. It is not enough. Grunting, I dip inside Aria's warmth, easing my way into her body. In and out. In-in-in and out. Her walls keep clenching around my shaft. Tighter than a motherfucking fist. I am fast ascending to heaven, and I have every intention of taking her with me. I use my thumb to continue pleasuring her clit. Circling, rubbing, playing. Aria sighs happily, her hips roll and snap, and she starts grinding against my hand and cock.

I push in all the way and begin to thrust. I groan. I go harder. Faster. She gasps. Her writhing, gyrating hips meet me, stroke for stroke, until our bodies are locked together in a chaotic, frenzied cadence. I do not know where her cunt ends nor where my cock begins. We are one, swept away by need and want and pleasure.

I cannot tear my eyes away. The sight of Aria riding my shaft nearly unravels me. Her eyes are shut tight. Cheeks are flushed. Sweat glistens on her skin. She is so hot. So beautiful. So perfect. I have never felt thicker, heavier, or harder. My cock is ready to burst. I refuse to come before her, though.

"So good," she whispers helplessly, "so fucking good..."

Her hips pick up speed, moaning, panting, humping my dick like she might die if she slows or stops. My nostrils flare at this insanely captivating visual. The wet, slapping noises of our manic fucking overwhelm the room. This all-encompassing onslaught on my senses—the sights, the sounds, the feel of her harsh, quick breaths falling on my skin, her exquisite pussy hugging my pulsing cock, her fingernails raking across my shoulders, her lips and tongue and teeth nipping and biting my neck—damn near ends me right then and there.

Manache!

My balls tighten painfully, pleasurably, craving release, chasing it madly, wanting nothing more than to pour all of myself into Aria's gasping, welcoming body. I cannot possibly last. It feels too fucking good. Out of sheer desperation, I start running through some of the numbers on the spreadsheets from work to keep myself from coming too soon.

It helps me hang on.

But barely.

I keep pumping her pussy and flicking her clit.

Aria whimpers, "Right there, right there, don't stop! Please!"

Every single muscle grows taut and tense as I do everything in my power to not climax inside her and hold the rhythm and lock in the angle, ramming into my assistant's sweet, little body until I finally feel her walls seize up around me, throbbing, contracting, in wave after wave of her release.

Aria's eyes roll back. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she cries out, "Oh, God, Nicco... yes, yes, yes!"

I do not last much longer after her, growling and gripping her hips to wrench her cunt down the length of my cock. We have been doing it bareback since Saturday. She is on the pill, and we are both clean. Until Aria, I have always used condoms in bed. Fucking my little assistant with nothing but cock and cunt is like no pleasure I have ever experienced. My hips thrust up to shove inside fully and spill and spill and spill until I am utterly lost in hot, slick tightness of my beautiful gray-eyed girl. She is intoxicating. Mind-blowing.

A damn good fuck.

With my heart still hammering away in my chest, I remind myself—that—is all Aria is to me.

Nothing more.

Her words. Not mine.

As the height of her pleasure wanes and calms, she slumps against my chest, boneless, nestling her face into my neck. Her skin is burning. Sweaty. Chest is still heaving. Just like me.

Through a hooded gaze, I peer at Aria. Despite the intensity of our fucking, a wave of tenderness now flows through me as I cradle her in my arms. My eyes drift down her lovely face, landing on her rosy lips. The soft fullness of them beckons me. But I resist the urge to lean in and kiss her. I hold back. I feel like I have something to prove after she just drew such a hard line between us, boxing in our relationship.

I don't need more from you.

I tell myself—her words cannot hurt me. Pride simply demands that I act as though we are on the same page. That she has no further sway over me. That I do not give a shit about what we are because I am Nicco fucking Vitale, and I never chase after pussy. Pussy comes to me. Always.

"That was," Aria mumbles, sighing against the crook of my neck, "amazing."

"I know," I agree with a shameless smirk. My fingers continue to trace her back. Mindless caresses here and there. I cannot seem to stop myself from touching my assistant even though I have had her so many times already.

Laughingly, Aria snuggles closer to me even while she fires back, "You are so full of yourself."

"For good reason," I snort, grinning. "I assure you, Signorina Senarath, no one will ever fuck you like I fuck you."

She rolls her eyes. "Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy it. Pretty sure I rocked your world as well."

Aria absolutely rocked my whole fucking world just now, in fact, my cock may very well be falling in love with her pussy, but I will never admit such things out loud.

"You were adequate," I tease.

A knowing smile spreads over her mouth. "I can head home right now if it's such a chore. Just say the word, boss, and I'm gone."

"No," I protest, tightening my arms around Aria. I scowl at her smug expression. "I do not mind it, I suppose. Stay with me tonight. Per favore."

Her smile widens, cooing sweetly, "I was hoping you'd say that, baby."

Baby.

Unlike the mocking way she called me her "baby boy" when we were about to fuck, there is something about the gentle manner she caresses this word on her tongue that makes my heart race. I am somewhat troubled by it. Because I do not seem to have the same effect on her as she does on me. A few ticks of apprehension pulse through me.

I refuse to relinquish the upper hand.

She remains curled up on my lap as I sit on the dining chair. Affectionately, Aria's face tilts toward mine. She tries to kiss me. Like an asshole, however, I purposely jerk my head away and nod toward the uneaten food on the table. "You hungry yet?"

Aria pulls back with puzzled expression. My slight does not escape her notice. We have kissed plenty of times already and not once have I refused her.

Until now.

"I guess so," she murmurs with a small frown.

Feigning indifference, I mutter under my breath, "Get off, woman. My legs are numb, and I am starving."

Just like that, the lazy, playful haze of our post-fuck intimacy is ruined.

Soft, gray eyes glimmer with awareness and a touch of rejection.

I am, indeed, an asshole.

But my assistant does not comment on my shit behavior. I do not know whether to feel proud of myself for pushing back with a hard-drawn line of my own—denying her much in the way she was denying me earlier—or to be crushed by the fact that she does not care enough to demand more from me.