8. Vanessa
CHAPTER EIGHT
VANESSA
Cupid’s face swiftly morphs from stunned to smug. The corners of his lips turn up in a wicked smile, the kind that makes you wet between your thighs and want to rub yourself all over him.
“Proud much?” I challenge snippily, unable to let him fully enjoy his victory.
As upset as I am with myself for caving as fast as I did for the biker, it’s not enough for me to back out, not when I’m about to get off with this Roman god.
“Very,” he says cheekily, my jab rolling off his shoulders like nothing.
He moves in, his face inches from mine. My throat goes dry, growing thirstier by the second for this man. I lick my lips, and he tracks the movement with his dark brown eyes.
“You have no clue what you agreed to, do you?”
Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “Do I look like an idiot?”
I agreed to sex, preferably the fantastic kind where my legs can’t stop shaking from multiple orgasms. I’ve never experienced that level of pleasure before, but maybe I’m looking at the man who will make it happen.
A girl can dream.
Cupid chuckles under his breath. He takes me in with a glint of triumph in his eyes. “Remember, you agreed to this, Psyche.”
Hmm. Cupid knows my name, but he’s called me Psyche a few times now. What does it mean?
I’m about to ask him when, without preamble, Cupid claims my mouth with his.
Holy hell! If I weren’t lying down already, I’d swoon on the spot.
His mouth is aggressive against mine, boldly taking what he wants from me.
I moan when I feel his tongue push past my lips into my mouth, sweeping against my tongue in long, fluid strokes.
The kiss isn’t rushed, but it is intense, making me crave more.
He tastes like cinnamon gum, spicy and enticing—my new favorite flavor.
My mouth moves in rhythm with his, never wanting to come up for air. If I suffocate, so be it—I’ll go out one lucky woman.
Cupid’s lips feel too good not to want to touch the rest of him. I wrap my arms around him, needing him closer, and he obliges. My body melts into the sheets beneath me when he covers me with his muscled frame. His weight is like a weighted blanket, cocooning me in warmth and protection.
It’s funny how a stranger can make me feel this comfortable this quickly. The man is dangerous—I don’t need to know him personally to realize that. But there’s something, an intuition perhaps, telling me to relax and letting me know I’m safe with him.
Cupid must sense my complete submission, releasing a pleased growl against my mouth. He breaks the kiss, pulling away.
“Come back,” I whimper, reaching for him.
“I’m not going anywhere, beautiful,” he says with a smile in his voice before whipping his t-shirt over his head, revealing chiseled pecs, boxed abs, and the most beautiful outline of a black butterfly pierced by an arrow tattooed across his expansive chest. My fingers hover above it, wanting to trace the gorgeous artwork with my fingertips.
My eyes home in on his toned torso, watching the way his muscles flex with each movement he makes. He’s gorgeous, cut in all the right places.
Eager to see the rest of him, I sit upright, grabbing the belt at his jeans and tugging it open.
Cupid removes my hands from his belt, pinning them to my sides. “Nu-uh, greedy brat. I’m not rushing. You’ve been on my mind all day, and I’m going to savor every second I have with you.”
Oh, my. He’s been thinking of me all day?
My inner slut is doing the cha-cha on my ovaries, ready for action.
“It’s only fair I get to see as much of you as you do me,” I say pointedly, eyeing his pants. “Take them off.”
“I will in good time. Let me enjoy you.”
Peeved, I raise an eyebrow. “‘In good time’? I thought we were going to fuck.”
Cupid swoops in, taking me by surprise when he kisses me again. He eases me back down on the bed and only breaks the kiss when he has me breathless and subdued.
“We will,” he says, trailing kisses along my jaw. “After I taste you.”
I freeze, remembering I worked a full eight hours. “Can’t we skip to the fun part?”
He chuckles, his teeth nipping my skin down my neck and over my collarbone. “Butterfly, this is all fun. Besides, there’s always a warm-up to the main event.”
“Cupid,” I try again, flushing with embarrassment. “I haven’t showered yet today.”
Growling, he pulls back, giving me a stern look. “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“Self-conscious,” he answers, his gaze holding mine. “You don’t need to be with me. I don’t want to taste soap. It’s you I want to taste.”
Unsure, I bite my lip, ready to protest. “But?—”
“But nothing,” Cupid says sharply, cutting me off. “You’d think I’d offer to eat you out if I didn’t want this?”
“Some guys feel obligated,” I mutter, wanting the bed to swallow me whole. “I didn’t want you to do anything you didn’t want.”
Cupid blinks slowly before shaking his head. “Are you seriously mentioning other dudes while I’m lying between your legs?”
“I’m not mentioning anyone,” I say heatedly. “I’m trying to explain my experiences doing exactly this haven’t gone well when I’ve not bathed. The guys weren’t into it like they led me to believe, and they made the sex act awful.”
“Well, they—whoever the losers are—are shit lovers who blew a good thing,” Cupid says, equally heated.
“I’m sorry your experiences were craptastic.
Actually, no, I take that back. I’m not sorry.
I’m fucking thrilled the weak little dicks before me couldn’t pleasure you the way you deserve.
It means your pleasure is all mine for the taking, and I am going to take every drop that weeps out of you.
It’s going to make our first time together all the better. ”
My eyes go wide. First time? He can’t possibly mean he wants more than tonight, right?
I’m not sure how to feel about everything he’s shared.
Part of me is staring at him with hearts in my eyes, relishing in finally hearing a man speak to me like he actually wants me.
Another part of me is confused about how I’m feeling and questioning if our encounter is more than a one-night stand between strangers.
What side do I listen to?
“Get out of your head, Vanessa, and join me in the here and now,” Cupid says. He leans forward, claiming my lips again.
Letting go of the last of my resistance, I kiss him back, matching his enthusiasm and enjoying the moment as I should. My heart feels like it’s soaring, free from restrictions.
When Cupid breaks the kiss and trails down my body, I lean back, getting lost in the feverish sensation sweeping through me. He nips and licks my flesh between warm kisses from his hot mouth, leaving my body buzzing with stimulation.
His massive hand cups my left breast, still covered by my bra. I instantly want to be rid of the damn torture device, reaching behind me to unclasp it. He helps me pull it off my body, pausing while he stares intently at my chest.
Yes, I have tits, nice ones if I say so myself. But the way he’s looking at me makes me feel self-conscious.
Before I can ask him if something is wrong, Cupid reaches out with his pointer finger, tracing the ink I have on my left breast, right above my nipple.
“You have a heart with an arrow through it,” he murmurs in awe. His eyes meet mine and something feels like it snapped into place between us.
“Yes,” I say shyly. “I wanted a tattoo—a change for my new life after I left my ex. I saw it at the tattoo parlor and it felt right, reminding me that love hurts and to stay the hell away from it.”
Cupid shakes his head, not agreeing with my answer. “Maybe it felt right because your heart was telling you to wait for me.”
My voice gets stuck in my throat, unsure how to respond. Why is he being…romantic? He’s making connections where none exist. And yet, his words hit deep, like some fated coincidence.
His face drops to my chest, eyeing my breasts hungrily. He licks his lips, gliding a finger between my cleavage. I shiver at the simple touch fueled with intention. He cups my right breast, leaning over to capture my left nipple in his molten mouth.
I gasp, arching my back and pushing my breast further into his mouth. With a pleased groan, he suckles on me, switching sides to give the other breast the same attention.
He releases my breast from his mouth with a wet pop, his lips puffy from sucking on me. “These tits are made for me. They’re the perfect mouthful.”
Dirty words never got me off before. And yet, Cupid has a way of making smut talk a powerful narratophilia.
Slowly, he licks a trail down to my navel, dipping his tongue into my bellybutton. I squirm, loving the tingles of delight rolling down my body from his attention.
When he reaches for my plain cotton bikini underwear, he looks back at me, as if he’s asking for permission to continue.
I nod, panting with anticipation.
Rough fingers grab the waistband of my last remaining piece of clothing. Unhurriedly, he tugs them down my legs, his eyes focused on my pussy.
Free of the garment, Cupid brings my underwear to his nose, breathing in my scent. All I can do is gape at him when he shoves my underwear into the back pocket of his jeans—a souvenir of our night together. He sees me watching him and smirks unabashedly.
“Fuck me,” he rasps as his eyes trail over my body and back to my face. “You’re stunning.”
A wave of warmth rushes over me. I’m not used to a man staring at me, like I’m someone worth looking at. My cheeks flush from his compliment, adding to my already heated skin.
Cupid eases himself between my legs, stretching out over my bed. He kisses the inside of my thigh, creeping upward with tantalizing nips and sucks from his mouth on my overheated flesh.
When he reaches the apex between my legs, he teases me by switching sides to my other thigh.
I groan, gripping the sheets with need.
He laughs softly against my leg, tickling me with his facial hair. “Are you eager for me to taste you, Psyche?”
“Yes!” I practically moan.
“Good,” he purrs in his rough voice, throwing my leg over his shoulder and opening me wider to him. “Because if you taste half as good as you smell, I will eat until I drain you dry.”
It’s the only warning I get before his hot mouth covers me. My body jerks upward from the intense first contact, and I gasp. His calloused hands wrap around my thighs, yanking me back to his greedy mouth. He latches on again, making me whimper.
Using the broadside of his tongue, he swipes through my folds. My head falls back with a groan. Each flick of his tongue makes me see stars behind my eyes.
When he circles my clit with the tip of his tongue, driving me wild with need, I grab the back of his head, threading my fingers in his hair to anchor him in place. He hums, pleased with my reaction, and it sends more delicious tendrils of pleasure through my core.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, panting as I feel a wave of release encroaching. “Please don’t fucking stop.”
Cupid hears me loud and clear. He vigorously flicks my clit, sucking on it between runs of his tongue.
My head thrashes against the pillow, sweat building at my temples. He has me a mewling mess, captured by his god-like mouth.
A thick digit enters me, and my pussy greedily latches onto it, pulling it deeper into me. Cupid fucks me slowly with his finger, stretching me out to accommodate him later. He adds a second, and it’s nearly enough to send me over the edge.
As if Cupid can read my mind, he cranks up the pace, flicking my clit wildly while finger-fucking me like how I imagine he will with his cock. My thighs spread further, accepting all he offers.
“Give me your pleasure,” he growls from between my thighs, setting off the final spark I need.
My breath quickens as a rush of warmth crashes over me all at once. “CUPID!”
The orgasm sweeps through me, making me shake uncontrollably. I cry out through my climax, hanging on to my biker lover like my soul needs to be tethered or it will float away.
Cupid doesn’t relent, licking and sucking on me through my orgasm. And all I can do is accept the gift he’s giving me.
When the last few flutters of my release fade away, the biker looks up from between my legs. His mouth and beard glisten in the dim light with my slick. I stare back, panting and spent.
Cupid gives me that smug smile, proud of being the first man to make me comfortable enough to enjoy getting head.
Slowly he removes his fingers from inside me. I whimper, missing the fullness instantly. I’m about to offer to get him a towel from the bathroom, but he surprises me again when he lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks them into his mouth.
His eyes close on a groan, like he truly enjoys the taste of me on his tongue. I stare, open-mouthed.
When Cupid opens his eyes again, there’s a fire there that makes me break out into a new flush.
“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” He crawls up my body, holding my gaze. “Want to taste yourself on me?”
Holy hell! Where did this man come from?
I reach for him the same moment he grabs the back of my neck, capturing my lips with his.
Tasting myself on his mouth as his tongue rolls against mine has me aching with need. I moan into his mouth, loving the mess we’re making of each other.
Pulling back from my lips, Cupid lays his forehead against mine. “Take me out,” he orders gruffly.
My fingers fumble with his zipper when there’s knocking at my apartment door.