And finally, for the first time, I accept that Nero wants me as badly as I want him. He loves me like I love him.

I never realized how deeply certain insults had buried under my skin. I told myself I didn’t care what people said. But it was the compliments I deflected, while inside myself I clung to the belief that I was ugly, undesirable, and pathetic.

Now the most beautiful man in the world is looking at me with love and desire. And I realize it’s impossible that he could feel those things for me if I were truly undeserving.

If Nero and I are a perfect match—and I feel certain that we are—then I’m his equal. His analog.

It’s a strange realization to have, after all this time, but I finally believe it. I’m beautiful. I’m intelligent. I’m worthy of love.

“What is it?” Nero asks me.

I take a deep breath, my forehead pressed against his. I’m breathing in the scent of his skin, and his lips, just an inch away from mine. Taking in his breath—then giving it back to him again.

“I’m really, completely happy,” I tell him.

“So am I,” he says. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

I laugh.

“Do you think that’s how other people feel all the time?”

“No,” he says, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. “I don’t think anyone has felt exactly like this.”

He kisses me again, with those full lips that spark a thousand sensations everywhere they land.

He pulls off the remains of my shirt, already cut to tatters and filthy with sweat and blood. He takes off my bra, too, letting my breasts spill into his hands. He traces their curves with his palms, brushing his fingertips over my nipples until they stiffen and throb under his touch.

He puts the palm of his hand in the center of my back and pulls me closer to him, so he can take my breast in his mouth. He sucks on my nipple, gently at first, then harder, so that my whole breast is aching with pleasure.

With his spare hand he massages my other breast, running his thumb down the muscle of my chest, then pinching and tugging on the nipple with just the right amount of pressure.

He always finds that perfect balance point between pleasure and pain—taking the sensation to its fullest intensity, without destroying the enjoyment beneath.

When it comes to sex, Nero has infinite patience. He spends ages just on my breasts, kneading and sucking and teasing them, until they reach their fullest erogenous potential. They become more sensitive than I ever would have thought possible. So aroused that I’m about to cum before he’s even touched anything else.

In fact, the moment he slides his hands down the front of my jeans, I start to climax. He still has my breast in his mouth. All he has to do is apply a little pressure to my clit, a few strokes with the flat of his fingers, and I tip over the edge. He sucks on my nipple and lets me grind against his hand. I feel that rush that flushes through my body—joy and satisfaction and release, all at once.

Nero raises his hand to his mouth and licks the taste of me off his fingers. Like an aperitif, it seems to ignite his hunger. He throws me down in the back seat and rips my jeans off, flinging them who knows where. He yanks my panties to the side and licks the length of my slit, flicking his tongue up under my still-throbbing clit.

I gasp and try to wriggle away, but he pins me down, thrusting his tongue all the way inside of me, then licking all over my pussy lips and clit. He’s ravenous for my taste. He drinks it down, coming back again and again for more.

My pussy is already swollen, thudding with each pulse of my heart. When he takes two fingers and slides them inside of me, I yell out, barely able to stand it.

He eases the intensity by lapping at my clit with his tongue. Then he slowly slides his fingers in and out, finding that sensitive spot on the inner wall, teasing it with his middle finger.

I feel like I’m possessed. My back is arching and I’m making all kinds of embarrassing sounds, but it’s impossible to care. He’s building up another climax, this one much stronger than the one that came before.

I’m squeezing around his fingers and grinding my pussy against his tongue, barely able to handle what I’m getting, but still wanting more and more.

He switches to gently sucking on my clit. I explode. I almost blackout for a minute, from the insane euphoria that bursts through my brain.

Nero is grinning with that wicked, devilish smile. Nothing pleases him more than playing my body like an instrument.

He climbs on top of me, thrusting his cock inside of me while my pussy is still burning from before.

“Oh my god,” he groans. He can feel how molten hot I am, soaking wet all the way down my thighs.

Nero’s cock is much bigger than his fingers. It fills every bit of space inside of me. In fact, with every thrust, it demands more room than exists. Like Nero himself, it straddles the edge of serious discomfort. And yet it’s intensely satisfying on a whole other level.

He kisses me tenderly. He fucks me roughly. He doesn’t give one good goddamn what he’s doing to the brand-new leather seats.

He slams into me harder and harder, as if he wants to take possession of me all over again, as if this is the only way he can exorcise that demon inside of him.

His breath quickens and I know he wants to let go.

But he won’t let himself do it, not until he’s wrung one more climax out of me.

He presses my body tightly against his, so my clit grinds against his abdomen as he thrusts into me. And sure enough, I feel one last orgasm building up, even though I’m already weak from the ones that came before.

Nero is full of strength. He does all the work, fucking me with relentless intensity. Until I turn my face into his neck and I scream out, as a final wave crashes over me.

Only then does he let himself cum, thrusting as deep as he can inside of me, and unleashing the load that he’s been holding back.

He cums so much that I can feel it running out of me, before he’s even pulled out. I would never say it out loud, but I’m wildly aroused by the volume he produces—the evidence of his virility, and his desire for me.

He collapses on top of me, our limbs tangled together.

I realize how cramped it is in the backseat. But I don’t care—in fact, I love it. I love how tightly we’re pressed together. I love the smell of the car and the scent of our skin, mixed together. I love the stars through the windows, and the silver glow on Nero’s skin.

He’s right—there’s never been another moment exactly like this one.

26

Nero

Officer Schultz is on top of the world. He’s getting another commendation for his bust of the MDMA lab on Mohawk Street. Levi Cargill is sitting in a holding cell in the Metropolitan Correctional Center, along with four of his dealers.

Schultz is out celebrating with about twenty other cops, in a little pub called Frosty’s.

Nobody parties quite like an off-duty cop. You can hear them hollering and singing from two blocks away. Not that drunken singing is anything unusual in Cabrini-Green.

Even the top brass stops by, including Commissioner McKay and Chief Brodie. They buy a round for all the officers, then leave the pub together, climbing into the back of a limo headed for the Celestial Ball at the Planetarium.