Chapter 4 Vincent #2
I exhale, staring at the faint ripples her fingers leave behind. “I can’t ask her to protect my father’s legacy,” I say, shaking my head. “Not after everything he did to her.”
She sighs, turning to me with a teasing smile.
“What?” I smirk.
"Honestly," she says, her tone teasing as she leans in closer, "if you insist on being the big bad CEO all day, the least I can do is make sure you remember how to unwind." Her lips brush against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Let me take care of you, Vincent."
I open my eyes just enough to catch her smirk, and despite the exhaustion clinging to me, I manage to raise an eyebrow. "Is that so? And what exactly does 'taking care of me' entail?"
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she shifts gracefully in the water, her body turning until she’s facing me.
I watch, captivated, as she rises slightly and then settles back down, straddling my lap.
The water ripples around us, and her skin glistens in the soft light.
She lightly shakes her hair out of her face, her expression a mix of mischief and something far more tender.
“This,” she says simply, her hands coming to rest on my thighs behind her. “You’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Let me help you ease some of it.”
Her fingers are already on my shoulders, pressing me back against the warm porcelain. I don't resist. I let my head fall back, my eyes closing as the day’s tension finally begins to crack under her touch.
The washcloth is warm and heavy with water when she brings it to my chest. She drags it lazily over my skin, and the heat seeps deep into muscles wound tight from hours of boardroom battles and corporate warfare. A groan rumbles in my chest, slipping out before I can stop it.
"I know," she whispers, her breath a ghost against my ear. "Just let go, Vincent. I've got you."
Her hands, slick with lavender-scented soap, work in careful circles.
Over the hard planes of my chest, down the tense ridges of my abdomen.
She isn't just washing me; she’s mapping me, relearning the territory stress had tried to claim.
Each pass of her hands is an absolution.
Each stroke whispers, you are here, you are with me, you are mine.
My own words from earlier feel foolish now, and all I want to do is show her how every second of my day should belong to her.
She abandons the wash cloth, and uses her palms, her fingers, to skate over my wet skin.
The slippery slide of soap, the firm pressure of her kneading my shoulders, the delicate scratch of her nails tracing my collarbone.
It’s an exquisite torture. My breathing, once measured and controlled, is starting to hitch.
“Fuck, little devil,” I groan. “Don’t tease me.”
“Are you giving me orders on how to take care of you?” She murmurs playfully.
Her hands drift lower, beneath the waterline, tracing the sharp V of my hips. My eyes fly open. I find her gaze, dark and heavy with an intent that makes my blood thrum.
“No, but if you’re going to suck my cock,” I pinch her chin between two fingers tilting her head up to me. “Then you are going to do it right, aren’t you?”
A devastating smile touches her lips. “Yes, sir.”
“Very good,” I smirk, letting go of her chin. “Now hold your breath.”
She shifts in the water, the movement causing ripples to lap against my skin. Her eyes never leave mine as she takes a deep breath, her chest rising as she fills her lungs to the brim. Then, with a fluid grace that leaves me breathless, she sinks beneath the surface.
The world above goes silent, muffled. All I can see is the distorted, beautiful shape of her, her hair floating like a dark cloud around her. All I can feel is the incredible, shocking heat of the water—and then the infinitely hotter, softer heat of her mouth as she takes me in.
My head slams back against the tub with a loud thud. A guttural sound, ripped from somewhere primal, echoes in the steamy room. Holy fuck.
She doesn’t move at first. Just holds me there, in that perfect, searing heaven, letting me feel the full, devastating reality of her mouth on me. Letting me drown in it.
“What did I tell you about teasing, little devil?” I groan, my fingertips flexing as I keep myself from gripping her hair.
She groans, her hand reaching lower to cup my balls and I arch into her mouth deeper.
The sensation is blinding. The slick, wet warmth enveloping me completely.
Her tongue flattens against the most sensitive part of me, igniting a wildfire in my veins.
The faint, impossible tease of her lips tightening just so sends shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through my body, each one threatening to unravel me as she bobs her head slowly in and out of the water, taking me deeper and deeper.
“You keep going slow like that, and I am going to fuck your mouth, princess,” I groan.
My hands grip the edge of the tub so tightly my knuckles ache, but I don’t care.
All I can focus on is her, on the way her mouth surrounds me, on the way her tongue works me with a precision that borders on cruelty.
“You want that princess? You want me to fuck your throat?”
She releases my cock with a pop. Catching her breath, as she stares at me with siren eyes. “Are you asking me, or telling me?”
Shit. I smile back, gripping the nape of her neck. “Hold your breath.”
She doesn’t fight me as I guide her back underwater with old have of
She groans against my length. The vibration makes me bite down on a curse, my hips twitching involuntarily, and she welcomes the thrust sinking down again, taking me deep, so deep, until I feel the back of her throat.
A shudder wracks me, my muscles clenching with the need to thrust, to bury myself completely in that wet heat, but I force myself to stay still, to let her control this moment, this perfect, overwhelming surrender.
“Fuck,” I moan. “Good fucking wife.”
I sink into her throat in long deep strokes.
My rhythm unhurried, each movement designed to shatter me piece by piece.
She savors every inch of me, her tongue tracing patterns that leave me trembling.
The water swirls around us, warm and soothing, but it’s nothing compared to the fire she sets ablaze inside me.
My breath comes in ragged gasps now, my chest heaving as I she takes me so fucking well.
Her hands find my thighs, her fingers digging into my skin as she takes me deeper still, as if she’s trying to consume every part of me.
The pressure builds, coiled tight in my gut, threatening to snap at any moment.
I’m on the verge of something immense, something all-consuming, and I know she feels it too.
Her pace quickens slightly, her head bobbing with a newfound urgency, and I can’t hold back anymore.
My hips jerk of their own accord, and a hoarse cry tears from my throat.
“Princess, I am so fucking close.” I growl, throwing my head back as I meet the bob of her head with equal strokes.
She surfaces with a soft gasp, water sluicing down her face, droplets clinging to her eyelashes and the perfect bow of her lips. She’s breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling. She looks like some water nymph, some sinful siren who’s just claimed her prize.
"God, you're beautiful like this," she breathes, her voice husky. "So… uncontrolled."
Before I can form a thought, she’s under again.
This time, she’s relentless. Her head bobs with a firmer, faster rhythm. One of her hands comes up, cupping me, her thumb finding that tiny, hyper-sensitive spot just beneath the head, rubbing tight, slick circles there in time with the pull of her mouth.
The other hand drifts lower, farther back, and her finger presses—just once, so lightly, a silent, promising question against that most forbidden place.
It’s the final key. The last bolt shatters.
A white-hot current of pure ecstasy arcs up my spine. My hips buck, involuntarily, driving myself deeper into that incredible heat. A ragged curse tears from my lips, a litany of broken syllables that are only her name.
"Willow… god… Willow…"
She feels it, the imminent unraveling. Her moan vibrates through me, a sensation so intense it borders on pain. She doubles down, her mouth working me, her tongue fluttering, her hands clutching my thighs, holding me there as I come completely apart.
The release crashes through me, wringing a shout from my lungs as my entire body seizes, pleasure shooting through every nerve ending I possess. I pulse into the scorching warmth of her mouth, again and again, until I am utterly, completely spent.
I am boneless. Weightless. Drifting in the aftermath.
She rises from the water, finally, breathing hard. She swipes the back of her hand across her mouth, her eyes never leaving mine. They are dark with satisfaction, with power, with love.
I can’t speak. I can only reach for her, my arm feeling like lead, and drag her up my body. Her skin is slick and warm against mine. I crush my mouth to hers, tasting the faint, clean soap, the steamy water, and the unmistakable, intimate taste of myself on her tongue.
I break the kiss, panting, my forehead resting against hers. The last of the tension is a distant memory, vaporized in the steam.
"All better?" she whispers, a smug, loving smile playing on her perfect, swollen lips.
I can only stare, my heart hammering against my ribs, not from stress, but from her. Always from her.
"You have no idea," I finally manage, my voice rough and raw.