14. Like Some Sort of Mercenary Mary Poppins
I CAN’T BELIEVE this is happening.
This is…
This is…
“Oh my god. You are so freaking good at that.” My head falls back hitting the wall behind me harder than I expect, but I don’t care. In this moment I don’t care about anything. Well, except for the way Vincent’s tongue is teasing against my clit.
It’s fucking magnificent.
His hands tighten on my thighs as he pulls me closer, dragging my ass to the edge of the chair before he goes back to what he was doing, letting out a low growl against my body.
If I wasn’t already halfway to an orgasm, that sound would have me there. It’s animalistic. Primal.
Possessive.
No one’s ever been possessive of me before. No one thought I was worth possessing.
Vincent’s hold on me shifts, the hands at my thighs hauling them over his shoulders, leaving my legs to drape down his back as he palms my hips, fingers kneading my flesh as his lips purse around my clit and suck. The sensation sends my hands flying to his hair looking for purchase, and his name rushing out of my mouth.
“That’s right, Angel Face.” His voice is as deep and rough as the growl he made earlier. “Make sure everyone outside knows who’s making you come.”
There are people outside? And he wants them to know he’s currently eating my pussy like a starving man?
“Jules.” The suction of Vincent’s lips pulls a little harder before releasing, making my whole body jolt. “Pay attention.”
“I am.” I gulp in air. “I am paying attention.”
I don’t think I’ve looked away since he started. I want to burn this memory into my brain. The sight of this gorgeous, deadly man licking me into oblivion is something I never want to forget.
I also don’t want it to end. But when Vincent’s hands slide under the layers of T-shirt and coat covering my upper half to palm the weight of my tits, I can’t ignore that the countdown has already started.
When his nimble fingers find my nipples and roll them not so gently, I’m gone, bucking against his mouth as I come, room spinning, vision narrowing.
“So fucking wet for me.” Vincent’s hands come back to my thighs, this time pushing them toward my chest before pinning them there with the weight of one forearm. His free hand slides up and down my slit. “Such a pretty pussy. Just as sweet and soft as you are.” He flattens his fingers right over my clit and starts vibrating them back and forth.
Fucking vibrating them.
The sound that comes out of me is unidentifiable as I squirm under the sensation.
“No complaining now, Angel Face. You’ve been asking for this since you showed me how pretty you look when you come.” His eyes lift to my face. “Did you think I wasn’t gonna want to see something that perfect again?”
I’m overwhelmed. Overstimulated. Desperate for another release and terrified I won’t get it. “Vincent.” His name is a plea. I’m about to start begging. I can feel it.
For what, I don’t fucking know.
“Shh.” He tips his head to nip the back of my thigh. “I can do this all night, Angel Face.”
Holy fuck. All night? He might have been serious about wanting to kill me after all.
I whimper and he seems to take pity on me and my extra sensitive clit. But then his fingers slide into me, pressing deep. “Or maybe you need to be fucked to come again. Is that it, Angel Face? Do you need to come on my cock this time?”
”Yes.” I don”t actually know, but I”m certainly not going to let an opportunity to be fucked by Vincent pass me by.
Vincent’s long fingers keep gliding in and out of me, teasing against a spot that has my toes curling so hard I’m pretty sure I’m going to get a cramp, but I don’t even care. His teasing alone has me heading for another climax, but then Vincent shifts, the forearm pressing my thighs to my chest lifting.
He stretches my legs open, letting them rest against the arms of the chair before grabbing the front of his pants. ”I shouldn”t have fucked you the first time, Jules.” The sound of his zipper dragging down makes my core clench. ”I probably shouldn”t be fucking you this time either, but I”m going to anyway.” He shoves the front of his pants down, pushing them with one hand as the other reaches in to pull out his cock.
It”s the first time I”ve actually had my eyes on it, and I literally gasp at the sight of it. Not because it”s huge, even though it is, but because of the line of piercings stacked from root to just below the tip.
The air rushes from my lungs. ”That explains a lot.”
Vincent”s eyes lift to mine and he shoots me a wicked smirk that tells me he knows exactly what I”m talking about. ”Does it?” He leans forward, lining his body to mine. I expect him to impale me the way he did last time, but he doesn”t. Instead, Vincent grips the backs of my knees, holding them wide as he slowly inches his body into mine. I feel every fucking drag of those silver barbells as he presses into me, and the extra stimulation they add has me gripping the arms of the chair so hard my knuckles turn white.
I”ve been so freaking na?ve. Believed length and girth were the two things I should wish for in a perfect penis, and my imaginary Vincent had both. He did not have piercings, and now I’m fucking kicking myself for my lack of imagination.
I knew something was different about him the first time we fucked. I honestly believed my fascination with Vincent was what made his dick seem so fantastic. But now that I know what it is, the sensation is almost amplified. As if identifying the difference has given it even more power.
My eyes roll closed as he fully seats his perfect, magical cock inside me. But Vincent doesn”t immediately pull back out. No. This cocky bastard leans forward, rocking against me in a move that puts pressure, but not direct contact, on my clit. It”s like he’s lit a fuse, and my body is ready to explode again. My fears of not being able to come so soon are obliterated as he holds that position and starts to fuck me, the press of his pelvis amplifying each rock of his hips as he spears into me with that spectacularly studded cock of his.
Vincent grabs at the coat I”m still wearing, growling as he fights the zipper down. ”Fucking in my way.” He finally manages to get it open and shoves up my T-shirt before falling against my tits, pressing them together as his mouth clamps down on a nipple and sucks hard.
I make another indescribable sound as he starts fucking me harder. The pull of his mouth and fingers on my nipples shoots straight to where our bodies connect and I clench, squeezing around him.
He groans against my skin. ”Behave, Julieanne, or I”ll fuck these tits instead.”
It”s another empty threat. I know he”s not going to stop fucking me. But now my imagination is running wild and the image of Vincent straddling my chest, shuttling his dick between my oiled-up tits as he glares down at me sends me over the edge. I wail out his name as I come, head thrown back, spine arched, body trembling from being in a position I’m not accustomed to and will likely result in not being able to walk right in the morning.
Still so worth it.
Vincent follows me over the edge and the sensation of his dick flexing and swelling inside me sends another mini tremor through my body. The whole interaction steals what little energy I have left and leaves me a worthless lump. I can”t move. I can”t think straight. I”m barely breathing.
But Vincent still hasn”t stopped fucking me. His movements are slower now, but he continues pressing into me, watching where his body impales mine.
Ten years ago, I might have been embarrassed. Self-conscious at the intense way he”s staring at that part of me. But I”m older now. Less concerned with what other people think. It”s also pretty easy to tell that Vincent is the opposite of repulsed by what he’s seeing. His expression is almost fascinated as he watches our bodies come together. Makes me wish I could see it too.
Maybe later. Right now I”m too tired to contort into whatever position that would require. Too worn out from way more orgasms than I”ve ever had.
And from running for my life. Though that situation no longer occupies much of my brain. It’s way more interested in the past few minutes.
Vincent”s eyes finally lift when I let out a long sigh of contentment. His hands slide down the backs of my thighs in a gentle caress as he slowly helps me lower my feet to the floor. Before pulling out, he grabs my discarded pants, wadding them up and using them to catch anything that might follow his retreat. Holding the pants in place as he stands, he hauls me up along with him. ”Come on, Angel Face. Let”s get you put back together again.”
Leading me into the bathroom attached to the waiting room, he flips on the light and follows me right in. He takes me right to the toilet and positions me in front of it. ”Sit down.”
”Uhh.” I might not be embarrassed by him looking up close and personally at my bits, but standing here listening while I pee has me hitting the breaks.
Vincent cocks a brow at me. ”Everyone pees, Jules.” He grabs the front of his pants, tucking his well adorned dick back into place before zipping the fly. ”You look like you”re about to fall over. I”m not leaving you in here alone.”
His words are gruff, but they warm me. I spent my entire adult life taking care of other people. People who frequently weren”t grateful for what I offered. No one”s ever taken care of me. No one”s ever inconvenienced themselves for my benefit.
And here”s a man who not only inconvenienced himself, but literally put his life on the line because strangers were violating my home.
Has Vincent done some questionable things? Yes, but, to be fair, so have I. And he”s also done some surprisingly sweet things. Even though he would never admit it.
Vincent crosses his arms, glaring at me. ”I”m standing here until you go. I know what happens if women don”t pee after sex.”
For some reason that pisses me off. ”How do you know that?”
Vincent”s lips twitch, like he wants to smile but refuses to allow it. ”I think I like when you”re jealous, Jules.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and this time he does give me a hint of a smile. Then he drops both arms to his sides, going to the sink where he switches on the warm water. ”I was going to be a surgeon, remember?”
Now that the water’s running, it makes it a little easier for me to do what needs to be done, the sound of my business mixing with the water he’s using to rinse out my pants. They”re probably too far gone, but I don”t stop. I’m not excited about the water stopping, leaving him to hear the sound of me peeing.
I quickly finish up and wipe. Just as I”m ready to stand, Vincent drops the pants and reaches for me, gently helping me up. I give him a smile as awkward as this whole interaction feels. “Thank you.”
He nods, but doesn’t reply, which makes it feel even more strange. Or maybe it just feels strange because no one’s ever taken care of me like this before.
His grip is firm and steady as he leads me back out into the waiting room where he helps me pull on the sweatpants that never made it onto me the first time. I brace against his shoulders as he works them up my legs and over my hips, his calloused hands brushing my skin way more than the task requires. Once they’re in place, he rises to his feet and helps take off the coat I”m still swaddled in. Going back to his bag, he digs through the contents before pulling out a black, long-sleeved shirt. He runs his hands over my T-shirt, his gaze flicking to mine. “Is this dry?”
I nod, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. I expected Vincent to be all the things he is. I knew he was grumpy and dangerous and a little abrasive. Never once did I guess he would be so gentle and careful with me. I also never let myself consider how much I might want to be treated this way, and the realization makes it hard to swallow.
Vincent seems to decide my T-shirt can stay on because he pulls the new shirt over my head, layering it on top. I”m about to argue, because I know the shirt will be too tight and I really don’t want to be uncomfortable for an entire plane ride. But Vincent is tall and broad enough that the only place it’s snug is across my tits. And even that isn”t too bad since the man seems to have a decent pair of pecs of his own. Not that I’ve gotten to see them.
He reaches up to gently work my hair free of the collar. ”Better?”
”Better. Thank you.” My smile accidentally turns to a yawn.
Vincent grunts but doesn”t acknowledge my thanks. He goes back to one knee in front of me and starts digging through his bag again. He pulls out yet another pair of socks, like some sort of mercenary Mary Poppins. ”Sit down.”
I gladly follow his order. I”m fucking exhausted. So tired I’m struggling to stay upright. Dropping to my butt, I let him pull the socks onto my feet. He’s so careful as he works them into place, aligning the heel gusset and toe seams perfectly. Vincent is obviously skilled at caring for others, and it makes me wonder, ”Why didn”t you end up being a surgeon?”
His hands still, one thumb gently sliding against the bit of skin peeking between the top of a sock in the bottom of the pants. ”I didn”t handle people”s lives being in my hands well.”
The explanation is odd to me. For a number of reasons. Vincent doesn”t seem like the kind of person who would struggle under pressure. He seems like he would thrive on it. And people”s lives are in his hands every day. Usually the end of them.
”But—”
His eyes jump to mine, expression less guarded than I”ve ever seen it. ”It”s not the same, Jules.”
I nod because I guess he”s right. There is a difference between saving someone good and killing someone bad. Didn’t I just kill someone bad? And then did all sorts of naughty things less than two hours later, the event already at the back of my mind?
Somehow I doubt I would have felt the same if I failed to save someone who deserved to be saved.
A flash of something that looks a lot like grief passes across Vincent”s eyes. Like so many of his emotions, it”s there and gone, but I know I saw it. And it makes me shift forward. Brings my hands to rest against his cheeks, the slightly rough texture of his beard rubbing against my palms. ”It”s only different to certain people.” I lean in and press my lips against his in a soft kiss. He”s perfectly still, like he”s not sure what to do as I pull back and give him a smile. ”And it”s different to you because you’re sweet.”
He scowls at me, an expression I’m starting to find endearing as hell. “I’m not sweet, Angel Face. Not sure how many times I have to say it.”
I keep smiling, because the longer I’m with him, the more I’m realizing that while this man might be deadly as fuck to some people, he’s not to me. And after too many years of living life on the flipside, the thought of Vincent showing only me the best of himself, soothes a hurt I never managed to fix on my own.
“Right.” I lean closer, looping my arms around his neck. “I guess it will be our little secret then.”
His eyes stay narrowed on me even as his hands come to pull me closer. “It fucking better.”