18. Alba #2
“I wasn’t trained in the art of seduction, if that’s what you mean,” I said, voice tightening.
“But sex was never…for me.” On the last word, my voice was a bare whisper.
My body was hot and cold, my fingers twitching on his shoulders.
I couldn’t meet his gaze. My heart pounded, but I felt it only distantly.
Rejection shimmered nearby, a ghost ready to make itself known. Vaughn would surely take one look at me right now and decide that I was too much work. He could get his rocks off with someone else. Someone who was easier. Someone who wasn’t so messed up.
Instead, Vaughn stepped closer and shifted his hand to grip my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilted it up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. In a low voice, with no hint of judgment, he asked, “What do you need, Alba?”
The question terrified me. I needed a lot of things—shelter, security, food, a job—but I knew that wasn’t what he meant.
His gaze was steady, his body unmoving. I knew he wouldn’t turn away from me until I told him the truth.
There was something so utterly comforting about that that I had no choice but to tell it to him: “I need to stop thinking so much.”
Understanding flashed across his eyes. He dipped his chin. “Do you want me to help you? Tell you exactly what you need to do, and nothing more? You won’t lose control, Alba. All you’ve got to do is listen to me.”
Yes . I wanted that. I wanted to let go only as far as he would let me. Sucking in a sharp breath, I nodded.
Vaughn leaned forward and brushed his mouth against mine. With his lips still touching me, he said, “You stop this whenever you want. Got it?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Now get on your knees.”
As my knees hit the polished wood floor, the feeling that rushed over me was relief. Relief that he hadn’t turned away from me. Relief that he hadn’t tried to fix me. Relief that all I had to do now was exactly what he said.
His belt jingled, knuckles and tendons shifting as he pulled it out of its buckle and unfastened his pants. Then his cock was there, hard and veined and throbbing.
“Put those pretty lips on my cock and suck, princess,” he commanded, and I did. I licked the tip of him and wrapped my mouth around his shaft, listening to him groan above me.
All I had to do was exactly what he said. I didn’t have to wrestle with my own body, with my mind, with the ghost of rejections past. I could just wrap my lips around his cock and take him deeper in my mouth, and everything went quiet in my head.
He tasted like salt and man, and I groaned as the thick vein against my tongue pulsed. Vaughn’s thumb stroked my hollowed-out cheek before his fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of my neck, gently urging me to take him deeper.
“That feels good, princess,” he said, voice interrupted by his panting. “You’ll make me come if you keep doing that.”
I hummed, nodding, then wrapped my hands around the base of him and started bobbing my head.
“So pretty,” he said, fingers tightening at my nape. “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth. Been dreaming of those lips around me. Been wanting to paint them with my cum and watch you lick it off.”
My heart stuttered to a stop, eyes flying open.
So—Vaughn was super dirty. I glanced up to see him dark-eyed and heavy-lidded, watching my every move. He kept talking, telling me all the things he’d imagined with me over the past weeks, his fingers tightening in my hair until my bun fell apart, his cock hard and hot in my mouth.
I gripped his thighs and took him deeper, my eyes watering as he groaned above me.
My mind was blessedly silent. All that mattered was this act.
The ache of my knees on the hard floor. The need to focus on my breath so I could take more of him.
So I could please him. So I could just do what he said and not think .
“Are you wet, princess?” At my nod, Vaughn hummed. “Show me. Touch yourself.”
My leggings were still halfway down my thighs, so all I had to do was reach between them. I was slick with my own desire, my fingers coming away glistening.
“Good.” Vaughn was panting hard now, his hand on the back of my head clenching and releasing, as if he was holding himself back from being too rough with me. “Keep that hand between your legs, princess. Get yourself nice and wet so my cock can slide right in when I decide to fuck you.”
It was easy to touch myself in front of him when he said that, when I was only getting myself ready for him. I didn’t have to orgasm. I didn’t have to chase some climax that kept getting further away. All I had to do was make sure I was wet and ready. Make sure I would be good for him.
I didn’t even have the mental space to judge myself for enjoying this. For loving this. For wanting him to use me whichever way he wanted to.
This time, it was my choice to be used. I decided if this ended—he’d said it himself, I could tell him to stop at any time. I was in control, even if he pretended to be.
So I let go of all those thoughts and insecurities and worries.
I worked my hand between my legs until my arousal soaked my inner thighs, until I was trembling and humming with Vaughn’s cock in my mouth.
My existence narrowed to the taste of him, the salty beads already dripping from his tip.
The feel of his hand at the back of my head, the strands of my own hair brushing the sides of my face, my neck.
The ache of the hard floor against my knees. The slip of my fingers against my clit.
Vaughn groaned above me, and the sound sent spiraling pleasure through my body.
“You suck my cock so well, princess,” he praised.
“Such a dirty, delicious mouth you have. Better than I could have imagined. Can’t wait to get inside you.
Can’t wait to give you my cock. Relax, baby, let me take you a little harder. ”
His voice was low and dark, and his words chased away every inhibition I might’ve had. I eased my jaw open, and Vaughn had his way with me. My body was loose, my fingers frantic against my bud. Then Vaughn pulled out, his thumb on my chin, his eyes wide as his chest heaved.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, watching me. “Did you make yourself nice and wet for me?”
I nodded, and then his hands were around my ribs and he was hauling me to my feet. I felt like a doll in his hands, empty of all thought, open, ready.
With one hand holding my chin, Vaughn reached between my legs. He let out a low noise at the slickness he found there, his eyes darkening as they held mine. “Good girl,” he rasped. “Hands on the ledge.”
He tilted his head toward the windows, where a low ledge stuck out a few inches. I shuffled over and bent at the waist, catching myself on it. My reflection in the darkened windows was clear, as was the shadow of Vaughn moving behind me.
His hands slid over my bare ass, stroking, worshiping.
He held my hips, then slid his hands down, thumbs pressing at the juncture of my thighs.
He stroked there, where I was wettest, his breaths growing ragged.
One thumb dipped inside me, and then I watched his reflection bring the digit up to his mouth.
He groaned as he licked his thumb clean, then met my eyes in the window’s dark reflection.
“This is for my pleasure only,” he promised, then got on his knees behind me and brought his mouth to my core.
I gasped as Vaughn’s tongue lapped at me, delved inside me, then slid forward to tease at my clit.
He spread me open with his hands and pushed me up so I was on my tiptoes, then he licked me from my clit to my ass like a man starved.
My fingernails dug into the paint on the window ledge, my forehead pressing against the glass.
“Vaughn—”
“This is for me,” he repeated darkly, and his mouth was on me a moment later.
I sucked in hard breaths, half expecting my mind to come back online so I could overthink this vulnerable position and the way Vaughn was devouring me.
With other partners, I was never able to climax with oral.
I was worried about the taste of me, the way I smelled, the way I looked.
I was worried that they resented doing it, or that they’d expect more from me after they were done.
I’d always faked my orgasms, mostly to get them to stop. To save their egos, to avoid having to explain .
But Vaughn said this was for his pleasure.
He—he was eating me out for his own enjoyment.
The knot of tension in my gut eased, and then the sensations overwhelmed me.
His hot tongue. His hands, gripping and spreading and holding.
The rasp of his stubble, the press of his nose. The low grunts and gasped breaths.
And I let go. I stopped trying to resist the pleasure that grew in the pit of my stomach. I pushed back into his touch, chasing more. Needing more. Vaughn made encouraging noises, his fingers tightening on my thighs, his tongue stroking into me.
Then he pulled away, breathing heavily. “I’m going to fuck you now, princess. I’ll do it hard and fast and you’ll come when I say. Yeah?”
I nodded, strands of hair falling on either side of my face. My mind was deliciously blank, my body buzzing.
“Tell me that’s what you want.”
“Yes, Vaughn. Please.”
He grunted appreciatively, one hand gripping my hip as he stood up.
His cock pressed against my ass, hot and hard, and I trembled.
With his hands on my hips, Vaughn walked me backward until my arms were extended, my head away from the window.
There was the sound of fabric shifting. A crinkle.
The reflection in the window told me Vaughn was getting a condom, sheathing himself with steady hands.
And then he fucked me hard and fast, just like he promised.
My legs were still pinned by my leggings, and he shoved them together so the fit was tight and overwhelming.
His thumbs pressed down on my lower back so I had to arch to take more of him, my arms trembling with the effort to hold myself up.
Everything was Vaughn. His hands, his cock, his breaths, the low murmur of his voice as he told me that I was beautiful, that I took his dick so perfectly, that he’d never had anyone as good as me.
“I want to feel you come on my cock, princess,” he told me, his voice rough with need.
A thread of stress wound its way through me. It was hard for me to orgasm. What if I couldn’t?—
“I want to feel it,” he said. “Want that perfect pussy clenching on me. Do that for me, princess. Give it to me, and then you can lick my cock clean.”
A blush tingled over my lips, but I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped me.
I lost myself in the sound of his voice, in the words he used to command me.
Vaughn hooked an arm around my waist to pull my upper body tight to his.
He spun us around toward the mirrors, and I put my forearms on it while his hand slid down my lower stomach and over my mons.
Then his thick, calloused fingers were on my clit, his cock filling me to the hilt.
His breaths were loud in my ear. His free hand reached up to grip my breast, thumb pressing into the soft flesh above my sports bra.
I met his eyes in the mirror and realized I trusted him.
I was as safe as I’d felt when we kissed.
As safe as I’d felt in his apartment, for those three glorious days when I didn’t have to worry about a thing.
Vaughn gave me that, and he was giving me this too.
I came, my head falling back onto his shoulder, my legs shaking as he thrust into me. His groans were wordless, but they told me how good he felt. How good I felt to him.
I was still feeling the rush of orgasm when he hardened inside me, the hand on my breast flying out to brace himself against the mirror. His thrusts were rough and deep, and another rush of pleasure went through me. I’d done that to him. For him.
My eyes closed, and my body went limp. He banded his arms around me and kissed my neck, breaths gusting out of his nose to wash over my skin. When he pulled out of me, a warm rush went with him. A moment later, something soft wiped over the skin of my inner thighs and my intimate flesh.
I looked down to see one of his pristine, expensive silk ties being used as a makeshift handkerchief and snorted out a laugh.
Vaughn smiled at me in the mirror, kissed the side of my neck, and then lifted the waistband of my leggings back up to where it belonged.
His hands lingered on my hipbones, fingers teasing the creases of my thighs.
It was a possessive touch, and I discovered I didn’t mind it at all.
“You’re coming home with me,” he informed me, and arched a brow at me in the mirror as if in expectation of a fight.
It probably should have sounded warning bells inside me when I rolled my lips inward and nodded, agreeing far too easily. But I wanted to go home with him. I wanted his soft, tender ministrations and his hard, mind-blanking sex. I wanted him, and I was too far gone to resist.