The orgasm sends small aftershocks of bliss straight through my core, and I moan, loudly, when the sensation of his flicking tongue becomes too much.
I attempt to push him away, needing time to let the oversensitive flutters calm, but he growls and pushes closer, burying his face in my crotch.
“Don’t. Not yet,” he begs. “I need you so badly.”
Everything that’s been wallowing in an invisible well of grief and fury snaps loose inside me, and I feel the last vestiges of my resentment flutter away to be replaced by the scarily intense emotions of love and need.
I’ve been fueling my bitterness relentlessly lately, anything to fool myself into thinking that I can move on and live my life without him. Not because I don’t know that I can’t, but because I’d needed the chance to believe that if we don’t get back together, at least I won’t turn into some sort of hopeless wreck.
Now, as I pull his head away, I know that I’ve been lying to him, and more importantly to myself. I want him, no matter what. I just need to find a way to have him without losing myself in the process.
“Dove.”
“Oh, shut up and fuck me, Vincent,” I mutter, smiling when he surges up and thrusts home in one move, his entire muscled frame shuddering with relief.
“Oh, dove.”
I shudder and writhe under his possession, my body gearing up for another, stronger climax as he levers himself up on his arms and pulls back slowly, only to shuttle back in with a power that wrings the air from my lungs.
“Say it, dove. Please.”
I shake my head, denying him that one last stamp of possession, and rear up instead, sealing my mouth to his. I kiss him with every scrap of denied and pent up desire that’s been torturing me for over a month, and enjoy his shock when I nip at his lip.
The movement startles him for a second before he smiles darkly and grabs my ass, pulling me closer and pushing in, going as deep as he can.
The deeper he goes, the harder it is for me to maintain the slight emotional distance, and I scrape my fingernails down his back, needing to mark him for myself if he’s intent on pushing me so hard and so fast.
My nails meet fabric instead, and I rear up, squinting. The bastard is still fully clothed!
“That’s it, dove, take me,” he groans, burying his face in my neck with a groan of sheer joy.
“You’re…ah…still dressed,” I mumble, biting my lips against the urge to let go and come.
I want this time to be a mutually shared moment, not another instance of his mastery over my body.
“Let go,” I gasp, clutching spasmodically at his ass when a series of warning ripples attack my swollen sex. “Together. Please.”
My wailed plea is all it takes for Vincent to let himself off the leash, and I gasp anew at his strength when he pummels into me, his body going tight with the approach of his own climax.
When he stiffens and grits his teeth, his mint green eyes focused on me, I feel the heat of his release and let myself freefall, my body exploding in a blast of the most intense pleasure I’ve ever known.
Our breaths are hard and labored as we lie quietly, just enjoying the afterglow of making love for the first time. I know the difference now, and I know that, no matter how much of an ass he can be, Vincent has just made love to me.
Honestly, desperately, and without the seduction tactics he usually employs.
The moment is golden, and I feel a distinct sense of loss when he pulls out and stands, his eyes focusing on me as he rearranges his clothing and hold out a hand to pull me to my feet and into his embrace.
“Tell me you and Parker aren’t together,” he rasps, his arms going rigid as I cuddle closer with a purr. “My guys told me…you’re living with him?”
I want to giggle and snort at the question because I know that it’s not a question as much as an accusation, but I resist and pull back an inch to look up and into his molten eyes.
“I was too jittery to go to the apartment my father got me,” I say, pushing a lock of his black hair back into place. “Jeffrey Parker and I are friends, Vincent.”
The explanation seems to do the trick, and he relaxes, his eyes heating again as he smiles slowly and pulls me in for another kiss, this one a slow, seductive glide of wet lips and tongue.
“You don’t need Parker to look after you, dove. You have me,” he murmurs, licking at me.
My brain scrambles in different directions as he teases my mouth, and I push back reluctantly to shake my head.
“I know what you’re doing, you devil, and it won’t work. Using your kisses against me is forbidden.”
“Ah, but you love my kisses, dove,” he purrs, the intensity of before gone, now that he’s gotten what he wants.