19. VIN
VIN
She isn’t real. It’s the only explanation. My brain has finally done what I knew it would eventually do: broken down under the weight of all this bullshit and now I’m hallucinating Sophia.
The thing is, she looks real. She smells real. And when she puts her hand on my arm and says something I can’t hear, she feels very fucking real.
I blink. She’s still there.
She’s wearing a tight fitting cream-colored shirt tucked into chef’s pants, her hair pulled back, a stray lock curving along her jaw. Her eyes sweep the room as she methodically takes inventory. Then she gets to work.
She bends, picks up an empty bottle of Whistle Pig from the floor and tosses it in the trash. Then another. Then a crushed cigarette pack.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap.
My voice sounds fucking strange. Whiskey, cigarettes, and no sleep make me sound like I’ve been gargling broken glass. I clear my throat.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says.
She’s all business, clearing a path from where I am on the chair to the door, moving debris and broken bits of whatever out of the way.
“I don’t need you for this,” I grumble.
I don’t move when she crosses the room to stand in front of me.
I don’t move when she reaches down and takes my hand and pulls.
When she says nothing, just holds onto my hand, looking down at me, no expression, just waiting, I sigh.
I pull my hand away and somehow I’m standing, swaying slightly.
She steadies me with both hands and doesn’t say a word.
Her hands are warm, and I’m fully focused on that point of contact only as she walks me to the bathroom.
The bathroom off the study is all dark marble and brass fixtures, a house built and decorated along with all the others on the estate decades ago before Aurelio first became boss.
Sophie turns the shower on, tests the temperature, adjusts it. Steam begins to rise.
“I’ll go get you some clean clothes.”
She starts to move past me and I block her, my hand on the bathroom door. She tilts her head at me, one hand going to her hip.
“Vin, I need to go start the laundry and find you some clothes to wear that don’t stink.”
She tries to step around me. I don’t move.
“Vin. Can you please—”
“Undress me.”
It’s not a request. It’s a return to where we left off, not on New Year’s Eve but when we were us, when she was my princess and becoming my queen.
She narrows her eyes at me. The steam from the shower fills the room.
“I’m here to help you for the family,” she says. “For Siena. Not for—”
“You want to help me, help.” I hold her gaze. “Take my clothes off me.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the calculation behind her eyes.
I raise an eyebrow. “If you’re not going to do what you’re told, get the fuck out.”
She exhales through her nose and snatches at the hem of my shirt, yanking it up.
I grip her wrists. “Slow. Down.”
Something that first looks like fear crosses her face and it throws me. She’s never been scared of me, and I never wanted her to be. But then her eyes widen, her lips part, her breathing picks up and I relax. Good. This I’m familiar with.
I hold her hands still and she plucks the hem of my t-shirt between her fingertips and lifts it slowly up over my stomach.
I stop her, pressing her palms flat against my skin, every muscle in my body relaxing.
She moves her hands up over my chest, my hands guiding hers.
She won’t look at me. I can’t stop staring at her.
The rise and fall of her chest coming slightly faster, her chin tipped down, her jaw set. Every part of me wakes up.
My shirt hits the floor.
“Pants.”
The weight of my stare is heavy on her as she fumbles with my belt, the closure, and zipper of my jeans. She hooks her thumbs into my waistband, catching my boxer briefs at the same time, and pulls down. She pushes my jeans down to my thighs.
When she tries to step back, my hard cock brushes against her, and I grip her wrists.
“You’re not done. On your knees.”
Her eyes flash. “Vin, this is not what I came here for.”
“On your fucking knees.”
I don’t touch her. She has a safe word. And we both know she’s not going to use it.
I watch her eyes flick down to my cock once before she catches herself and looks away. I smirk. That’s my girl.
Her gaze downcast, she slowly sinks to her knees and tugs my jeans down to the floor, holding onto them as I pause for a beat, testing her, before finally allowing her to help me step out of them.
We stay like this for a moment, my cock in front of her, her head bowed. I tap her shoulder and she stiffens.
“Stand up. It’s your turn.”
She looks up sharply. “Vin, no. I’m not getting undressed. I have things to do.”
I rake my gaze down her body, pausing on her cream shirt now limp and clinging to her breasts thanks to the steam. I let my silence make my point for me.
She glances away. “I mean it.”
“Your choice.”
I grip her wrists and pull her to stand then into the shower with me, clothes and all.
She shrieks as the warm water saturates her clothes and pushes against me, trying to get out.
I pin her against me with one arm, her back to my chest, and wait until she goes still.
Finally, she tips her head back against my shoulder and scowls up at me, water running in rivulets down her face and into her collar.
The look on her face would be funny if I were capable of finding anything funny right now.
I push the soap into her hand without a word.
She turns and starts slowly, tentatively, running the bar over my chest with careful, measured movements. I turn away from her, facing the tile wall, bracing my palms against the marble. I hang my head and let the water pour over my back.
She pauses behind me. I know she’s deciding whether she should stay and continue or leave. I’d let her. She knows that.
But she doesn’t leave. I knew she wouldn’t.
When she starts washing my back, her movements are more intentional, the movement of the soap across my back thorough and efficient. I close my eyes and the first real exhalation I’ve managed in days feels like something finally coming loose.
I don’t know how long she washes me. Long enough that the worst of everything that has been sitting in my chest these past weeks begins to soften.
When she finishes, she sets the soap on the ledge. Her fingertips trace softly down my back, a gesture so familiar it almost breaks me .
She starts to step out. I snatch her wrist.
“On your knees.”
“Vin—”
I press her down to the floor of the shower, the water hitting her full in the face, then grip her jaw and tilt her face up to mine. Her eyes are wide, blinking rapidly as water streams over her lashes, her shirt soaked through and clinging to her tits. She’s so fucking beautiful it makes me ache.
“Open.”
She does as she’s told, her mouth dropping open, and I guide my cock into the back of her throat and hold it there until she gags.
“Good girl.”
I withdraw enough to let her breathe, then grip her head with both hands and skull fuck her hard and fast. Her hands are scrabbling over my thighs and her grunts are broken into a staccato pattern as my cock cuts off her airway.
I yank her head back, forcing her to look at me as the water pours onto her face making her gasp and cough. “Tell me you fucking love this.”
“I love this, Sir.” It comes out broken and garbled as the water hits her in the face.
“Tell me you love worshiping my cock.”
“I—love—your cock—Sir.”
“I know you do.”
I grip her head and shove my cock into her throat until she chokes, then pull out slowly as she heaves, her lips wrapped around my cock like she doesn’t want to let go.
Shoving back in, I fuck her mouth, groaning with each thrust. “My fucking cock whore.” She moans in response, her mouth full of my cock. “My fucking cum sucking slut.” Her nails dig into my thighs, and grip her hair, and fuck her.
Fast. Hard. Merciless.
“Your mouth, Sophia,” I groan. She’s so fucking warm, wet, soft. It’s been weeks since I’ve been inside her, and I can’t help but come quickly deep in the back of her throat. She sputters and coughs, cum and spit and water dribbling down her chin.
She sits back on her heels and clasps her hands in her lap, her gaze down. I run my palm over her wet hair, and she leans forward, pressing her cheek against my thigh with a soft sigh.
Always my good girl.