18. Piper
18
PIPER
“ D on’t ever stop doing that,” I closed my eyes and sighed.
“You like?” Vincent asked as he rubbed his knuckles along my arch.
“Did you see those torture devices Chloe had us wear all day? I’m not sure my feet will ever recover.”
He chuckled. “And you still managed to spend half the night on the dance floor.”
“I’ve never met a cheesy line dance I didn’t like!”
We were both fresh from the shower after an epic wedding day, settling into bed but not ready to sleep. We recapped everything, from the victorious Mercedes introduction to the way Paul and Chloe had seemed over-the-moon happy throughout the whole thing. We both hoped they’d find their way back to a more even keel now that the drama of the wedding day was behind them.
Vincent poured more massage oil into his hands and started focusing on my calf. He was sitting up at the end of the bed with my feet nestled in his lap.
“Ohh,” I sighed. “That is… divine .”
“Summit’s massage oil is fantastic, huh? It’s coconut oil-based, so it has a variety of uses. Let your mind wander.”
I opened one eye to peer at him. “Is that a fact? It feels fabulous, but I wouldn’t give the oil all the credit.”
He bowed his head. “Why thank you, madam. Hopefully, my tip will reflect your appreciation.”
I bit back a smile. “Do you only take cash tips?” I asked him coyly, leaning into the role play. I nestled my other foot against his crotch. “Or could we work something out?”
“I’m definitely open to other forms of payment.” Vincent’s strong hands moved farther up my calf in rhythmic strokes. “What did you have in mind?”
“A little quid pro quo, maybe?” I purred as his hands reached my thigh.
“I like the way that sounds,” he agreed.
“But first you have to prove your worth,” I scolded lightly, “before I lay a finger on you. You’re off to a decent start, but I need to know if you have any… special skills in your repertoire.”
“Ah, okay,” his hands slid higher, moving to my inner thigh. “Like this?”
“Getting warmer,” I rasped as his fingertips grazed the edge of my underwear.
Vincent moved to kneel in between my legs. “You know, I could get fired for this. But I can’t resist you.” He moved his fingers beneath my underwear and found my heat. “I can’t resist this .”
I sucked in a breath as he slid a finger inside me then paused.
“Maybe I should stop?” Vincent said in a low voice, still playing the role of the horny massage therapist. “We could get in trouble if someone catches us.”
I pushed against his hand. “No, don’t stop.”
“ Beg .”
His voice shifted from customer service tone to dominant in a single syllable.
I was so desperate for him I didn’t even pause. “Please, sir, don’t stop.”
“Don’t stop what ?” he rumbled. His hand slowed between my legs.
“Don’t stop…touching me,” I panted. The man was a maestro at playing my body, and I needed more.
His fingertips teased, slipping inside, then against my clit, then paused again. Vincent was serious about the begging, and he was going to get what he wanted because I was desperate enough to plead with him for more.
“ Please . I…I need you…”
“You need me to do what?” Vincent asked in a growl.
“To…fuck me,” I whispered hoarsely, desperate.
He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on in an instant. The next thing I knew he was poised above me, looking down at me with a devilish expression.
“Is this what you want?”
He rubbed the tip of his cock against my warm wetness.
“Y-yes…” I whispered. “ Please .”
In answer, he slid inside me, and we both sighed in ecstasy as we connected. Vincent lowered himself so that his body covered mine, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, driving him even deeper inside of me.
“I’ve been waiting all day for this,” he whispered in my ear.
Vincent started moving his hips, drawing his cock in and out slowly. Little sparklers started going off behind my eyes, and the man had barely even begun fucking me.
He kept up a slow and steady pace and slipped his hand down between our bodies to caress me. The combination of him filling me and the focused attention on my clit sent me racing to a climax before I even had a chance to realize I was close.
“ Vincent !” I cried out as I came.
The sweet, rolling vibrations pulsed inside of me, growing stronger and stronger before finally fading away.
Vincent paused and let me ride out the end of the orgasm and then started moving with a little more force, rolling his hips against me.
“Harder,” I whispered.
“You little minx ,” he rasped back at me.
He pounded against me, and I could tell he was trying to hold back, to keep from letting go.
“You feel too good,” he sighed with his mouth pressed to my ear. “I don’t want to come.”
“I’m not going anywhere, we can play this game again and again,” I reassured him. “All night.”
He flipped us over as a single unit, so that I straddled on top of him.
“Your turn to drive. I wanna watch you. You’re so fucking flawless, Piper, and I can’t stop staring at you.”
I rose up onto my knees and then plunged down on top of him, over and over, and Vincent reached up to clasp my breasts as I rode him. He never took his eyes off me until the moment when he couldn’t hold back any longer, and my name ricocheted from his lips.
I collapsed against his chest, and we both breathed in sync, silent and satisfied.
Vincent reluctantly pulled away from me to take care of the condom, then quickly slid back so he could take me in his arms. He kissed the top of my head.
“You’re exquisite in every way, do you know that?”
“Sometimes I forget. It’s probably best if you remind me of that fact every day.” I swallowed a giggle.
He squeezed me closer to him. “Gladly.”
We rested snuggled up together, basking in the afterglow of a perfect day and an even better night.
“Did you have fun at the wedding?” I asked him.
“I enjoyed celebrating Paul and Chloe.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” I insisted.
He shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of weddings.”
“I guess it skipped a generation, because your dad was the life of the party,” I rested my head against his chest.
Vincent snorted. “He’s had four of them, so I’d consider him a pro. He was probably drunk. I think it’s his way of not thinking too much.”
I raised up on my elbow. “Why? What do you mean?”
Vincent took me in for a moment before answering. “He let my mom slip away, and he’s spent the rest of his life trying to recreate what he had with her.”
He didn’t open up to me often, so I took advantage of the moment. “Why did they split up?”
“He cheated on her.”
I gasped. “Richard cheated ? I never would’ve suspected that. He doesn’t seem like the type!”
“He’s not. He’s regretted it every day since.”
“Was it long-term?” I asked tentatively. “Like, an affair?”
Vincent shook his head. “It was a one-time thing on a business trip. He and my mom had been going through a rough patch, and then that happened. Cut to the divorce and years of bitterness.”
I watched pain shift across his face then disappear just as quickly. I was shocked when he kept talking.
“My dad didn’t have the best role model in his own father. I don’t know all the details, he keeps it packed away, but I think he worried he was repeating some patterns from his past with us. He wasn’t the most present father when I was young, you know? He could have gotten an even split on custody, but he chose to have me stay with Mom most of the time. But he’s clearly learned from his mistakes, because the guy can’t get enough of me now.”
“He seems to still care about your mom, too,” I said.
“Oh yeah, he sure does. The one that got away,” Vincent chuckled. “I think my mom still cares about him, but she doesn’t love the idea that he has three other exes.”
He stroked my back, and I squeezed him a little tighter, feeling more connected to him than ever.
“It sounds like he’s a romantic at heart,” I said. “He might be a little misguided about what to do with all of those feelings, but he believes in the power of love, to quote Celine Dion.”
His laugh rumbled beneath my ear. “Or he’s a sucker.”
I pulled away to stare at him. “Excuse me?”
“Look at his track record! He’s zero for four. Those are some shitty stats. Lucky for me, I didn’t inherit that from him.”
My contented heart suddenly slowed to a crawl.
“What do you mean?” I asked slowly, unsure whether I wanted to hear his answer.
“Marriage is essentially sitting down at the craps table and crossing your fingers. Think about it: my dad couldn’t make it work after four tries. And look at our bride and groom…how miserable were they during the lead-up to today?”
I sat up, pulling the sheet with me to cover me. “Yeah, but that was due to planning stress, not relationship issues. They adore each other—you know that. And they’re fine now.”
“Are they, though?” Vincent asked pointedly. “It seems like there was some major damage done. Look, I’m not saying real love never happens. But what are the odds of finding your perfect match? One in a hundred? In a thousand? Think of all the people you know and how many of them are in relationships you’re absolutely sure will last.”
I didn’t answer, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know more about his incredibly depressing thoughts on love and marriage. It only took a few minutes for Vincent’s breathing to even out into a light snore.
I rolled off him and onto my side, and he immediately repositioned himself so that he was spooned behind me. It felt amazing being nestled together, but my racing brain prevented me from relaxing into his embrace and falling asleep.
If he had so little faith in the idea that a relationship could last, what did he think was happening with us? Yeah, it had started out as a fake relationship, but I’d sure thought it was growing into something real. Something good. Did he not agree? Was he even giving it a chance to see if we could have one of those relationships that go the distance? Or was he just running out the clock, waiting for it to fall apart?
The thought made me feel cold, even in the warmth of his arms.