Chapter 29 Vin
Vin
The smell of butter sizzling and popping as it hits a hot pan drags me from sleep. I crack one eye open to see Sophie’s side of the bed empty. The sun is barely up, but Sophie is already cooking for me.
My stomach clenches, and it’s not because of hunger. I push the discomfort down and roll out of bed, heading into the kitchen.
She’s wearing one of her thin tank tops and those fucking shorts that make my cock hard, her hair in a messy bun, bent over the stove. She’s humming something soft under her breath as she whisks eggs in a bowl, completely absorbed in what she’s doing.
My woman making me breakfast. The thought slams into me before I can stop it, and I freeze.
Not my woman. Just a woman. A woman I’m using. A woman whose birth control I’m sabotaging so I can breed her and humiliate her entire family.
Except in this moment, she just looks soft, content, happy to be cooking for me.
Fuck.
I stride into the kitchen and she glances up with a smile that does something violent to me. “Good morning. I’m making—”
I don’t let her finish. I shove the pan off the burner to the back of the stove, flipping off the flame. Her eyes go wide as I turn her to face the counter and bend her over it, my hand splayed across the small of her back.
“Vin, the eggs—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the eggs.” My voice comes out louder, harsher than I intended and I lower it to almost a whisper. “I want you.”
Her breath hitches, that pink flush that always happens when she wants to get fucked creeping up the back of her neck.
I grab the waistband of her shorts and yank them down just enough to expose that gorgeous fat ass, leaving them bunched around her thighs. The position makes her legs squeeze together, makes her even tighter when I touch her.
And fuck, I can’t stop touching her.
I hook my fingers into her pink cotton panties and drag them down to join her shorts. My hand slides between her legs from behind, spreading her open. She’s so fucking wet.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, dragging two fingers down her slick pussy. “Do you wake up like this every morning, princess? Wet and ready for my cock?”
She whimpers, pushing her hips back against my hand. “Only when you’re here.”
Something about the sweet honesty in that answer makes me want to wreck her.
I drop to my knees behind her, spreading her ass with both hands, and drag my tongue from her clit all the way up to her back entrance.
She cries out, “Vin!”
I lick her again, slow and deliberate, then bite down on one perfect ass cheek hard enough to leave marks.
She shrieks, half pleasure, half shock, her whole body jolting forward.
“Fuck, you’re dripping.” I slide two fingers inside her pussy, curling them just right while my thumb finds her clit. She’s trembling now, her thighs shaking, giving me the fucking sweetest little gasps and moans.
I work her slow and steady, building her toward the orgasm I know she’s fucking desperate for, feeling her clench around my fingers, her breathing going ragged—
Then I stop.
“No!” Her protest is immediate, desperate. “Vin, please—”
I ignore her, reaching for the melted butter still warm in the pan. I pour it generously over her ass, watching it stream down the curve of her cheeks, between her legs, coating her pussy and thighs.
She moans, nothing but need, shifting her hips.
“Stay still,” I order, grabbing the wooden spatula from the utensil holder. It’s the one with the flat, wide head, perfect for spanking.
I tap it against her ass lightly, testing. She tenses, her breath catching. I pull back like I’m going to swing, and stop just before making contact, the spatula cutting through the air with a sharp whistle before I halt it a hair away from her skin.
She gasps, bracing herself for the impact that never comes.
I chuckle. “Thought I was going to hurt you, didn’t you, princess?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Do you want me to?”
Silence. Then, so quietly I almost miss it: “Yes.”
Fuck. My cock is so hard it’s painful.
I tap the spatula gently against her ass again, then shove the handle between her teeth. “Take this. Now crawl to the living room.”
Her eyes go wide, but she does it without hesitation, biting down on the wooden handle and crawling. It’s awkward with her shorts still around her thighs, restricting her movement, making her ass sway and jiggle with every awkward shuffle forward.
I follow her, fucking loving every single thing about this.
When she reaches the living room, I gesture to the coffee table, the one I refinished for her. “Get up there. Face down, ass up. Knees wide apart so your pussy’s facing the front door.”
She climbs onto the table carefully, still holding the spatula in her teeth, and positions herself exactly how I told her, her glistening pussy on full display.
Perfect.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out. It’s a text from Matti:
We got a lead on
Aurelio. Meet us
at the Edge in 20.
Fuck.
I look down at Sophie on the coffee table waiting for me. Fuck, I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here and fuck her until neither of us can move. But I can’t ignore this lead. It’s time to end this war.
“Change of plans, princess.” I trail my fingers down her spine. “I have to go.”
The spatula drops from her mouth, clattering onto the table. “What? No, Vin, please—”
“Get down. We’ll finish this when I get back.”
She doesn’t move. When I look at her face, I see something close to panic.
“Please let me stay,” she whispers. “Let me wait for you like this. I want to show you I can do it.”
My chest constricts. This woman…. “Sophie—”
“Please, padrone.” Her voice breaks, and fuck if that doesn’t nearly destroy me. “I’ll be so good. I promise.”
I stare at her for a long moment, this woman, my enemy, offering herself to me like a gift.
“You want to wait for me?” I ask roughly.
“Yes. Please.”
I grab a marker from the drawer, black and thick-tipped. I kneel beside the table and draw an arrow on her thigh pointing to her pussy. Then another pointing to her ass. Then I trace a circle around her parted lips.
“If you’re a good girl and wait for me exactly like this,” I say, my voice low and rough, “I’m going to push inside this sweet pussy first.” I tap the arrow.
“Fuck you while I spank this perfect ass.” Another tap.
“Then I’m going to wreck this tight little asshole.
” Tap. “And then you’re going to suck me clean after I glaze this pretty face. ”
Her breathing is ragged, her eyes glassy.
“Do you understand?”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “My answer to you is always yes.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Always yes.
I stand abruptly, pocketing the marker, my heart doing something arrhythmic in my chest.
“I’ll be back soon,” I mutter, and walk out before I do something stupid like kiss her.
As I head to my car, I can’t stop hearing it.
My answer to you is always yes.
What does that fucking mean? And what the fuck have I gotten myself into?