13. Vincent
I was going to fix things with Wendy.
No fucking clue how, but with our mouths inches apart after being separated for over three years, I figured this was a good start.
“Because you're not in it,” Wendy repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. The four words sent shock waves through my system. My heart hammered against my chest like a drum while my brain tried to process the confession lingering between us. It was as if she'd handed me a live grenade with the pin pulled out, and all I could do was brace for the impact. “After all these years, I still want you. Why? Why do I still want you? How is that even possible? Am I that fucked up?”
My body tensed at her words, uncertainty seeping into every fiber of my being. Was it safe to hope for a future—our future? Could I dare ask Wendy to walk down this treacherous path with me again? She had suffered enough already. I chewed the inside of my cheek, the sharp sting grounding me, holding back the words that threatened to spill out. The apology hung heavy in the air. I had hurt her. I had hurt us both. But she was here now, so close, and still wanted me. That meant something—it had to.
I swallowed hard, my eyes searching hers for a shred of doubt, a hint of regret. But I found none. Instead, her gaze held an intensity that matched my own—a searing burn threatening to consume everything in its path. The vulnerability of her confession echoed in the silence, the weight of which pressed down on my chest.
“Can I touch you?” The words rolled off my tongue without granting me a second to think about my next move.
She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath, her eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. I reached out, letting my fingers trace the curve of her jaw. A single tear escaped beneath her closed eyelids, sliding down her cheek and falling onto my hand. It was salty and warm, a stark reminder of how real this moment was—how real Wendy was. I couldn’t believe I was feeling her skin under my own. It was surreal and a curse all at once because to think Wendy could pull away at any second to deny me of the heaven I had missed for all these years, sending me straight back to hell, scared the shit out of me.
“Tell me what you want?” It was more of a statement because a part of me knew what she wanted. But I needed to hear her say the words.
Her mouth parted slightly as she took another shaky breath, her words caught in her throat. She swallowed, her throat clicking. I watched her intently, holding my breath as I awaited her response.
“If you can’t use your words, touch me,” I whispered.
She hesitated, uncertainty etching lines of tension onto her face. For a moment, I thought she might pull away, and my heart skipped several beats. But then her hand moved slowly, reaching out and trembling as her fingers hovered over my cheek.
“What if it all goes wrong again?” Her voice trembled, the fear and hope warring in her eyes.
“Then we fix it. Together,” I answered, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
With that affirmation, Wendy’s fingers touched my skin, tracing my jawline almost reverently. A shudder coursed through me at the touch, a sharp reminder of what was at stake, of how much I had missed this woman. My hand wrapped around hers on my face, holding it as if anchoring me to the moment. Wendy shifted her hand, dragging her digits through my hair, her eyes darting to where her fingertips buried themselves in my wild strands.
Her touch was electric, sending sparks through my veins and igniting a passion that had laid dormant for far too long. I closed my eyes to the sensation of her fingers against my scalp, letting out a shaky breath. My hand, still on her jawline, moved upward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I felt her shudder under my touch, and it made my pulse quicken.
Now it was her turn to take a deep breath, courage visibly pooling in her eyes as she gently pulled me closer by my hair, our faces mere inches apart. For a moment, everything was silent as the world seemed to hold its breath alongside us.
“Wendy.” My tone darkened. “Use your words. Tell me what you need.”
She stayed silent, but I allowed her hands to explore my body. Tracing every crease of my shirt, tugging the buttons to unfasten them unsuccessfully. Her fingers trembled, their nervous movement making the task more difficult. I caught her hands in mine, stilling them. Her gaze held mine, the fear of rejection apparent in her eyes. I shook my head gently.
“It's okay,” I reassured her, pressing soft kisses to each of her knuckles before helping her undo the buttons of my shirt.
She nodded, a relieved sigh escaping her lips. There it was—a crack in the dam holding back our emotions, but not enough to break it open yet. I sucked in a sharp breath before closing the heated gap between us and sealing my lips against Wendy’s.
Our kiss was slow, deliberate. I could feel Wendy's breath hitch as my lips slanted over hers. A gasp escaped her parted mouth, giving me an opening to deepen the kiss and taste the sweetness I had been denied for so long.
Every touch of her fingers against my body felt imprinted on my skin. Every breath she took echoed in my ears. Her hands, resting lightly on the fabric of my shirt, began to move with more confidence now, sliding up and down the front of my torso before finally pushing the shirt off my shoulders. Her touch left goosebumps down my arms as she pushed the material away from me and onto the floor. I was already hard, my cock begging for any form of friction as it pressed against my zipper, but I wouldn’t let her fingers trail there…yet.
I wanted to touch her the way she really wanted, but something in Wendy wasn’t allowing herself to be free. “Tell me, Wendy. Please,” I mumbled into her mouth before snaking my tongue against hers, getting lost in Wendy’s scent, still in disbelief that this was my life.
Wendy pulled back from our heated kiss suddenly, leaving me reeling and disoriented from its abrupt end. She looked at me carefully, a cautious yet hopeful glimmer in her eyes. “Vincent, I…”
“Say it,” I urged, taking her hands and pulling Wendy to me. But it didn’t work. She only shut down more, yet her fingertips insisted on dancing across my palms, just needing to touch me. I didn’t want to be a dick, but I needed to show her that she could trust me again. If Wendy couldn’t trust me in life just yet, I totally understood. But here, in the bedroom, she needed to trust me.
“Let’s take a quick break, okay? Everything is fine. I promise.” My tone softened as I pushed a loose, dark lock of hair behind her ear. I stood and walked to the window.
A moment passed in silence. My back to her, I couldn’t decipher her expression or her emotions. The room felt unbearably quiet, only interrupted by the distant sounds from the waves hitting the rocks below. I clenched my fists, struggling to keep the rising surge of desperation at bay.
“Vincent…” Her voice was a whisper, tentative and shaky.
I didn’t respond. My heart pounded like a wild drum, every beat echoing the fear that Wendy might walk away again. And then I pivoted, facing her, all the warmth in my eyes leaving. I marched to her shrinking frame and stopped an inch from my shadow swallowing Wendy.
“You’re so scared.”
“No, I’m not.” Wendy’s eyes bulged as she stiffened her posture.
I inhaled, leaning in until our mouths were less than an inch apart, her breath tickling my chin. “You touch people the way you want to be touched, but here you are. Too afraid to say what you need.”
I stepped back, giving her room to breathe, but my gaze never left hers. Confusion and hurt clashed within the depths of her eyes, replaced by a fierce determination that took me by surprise.
“No,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.
“What?”
“No,” she said again, stronger this time. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”
Her statement hung in the air between us, palpable and heavy. The silence was deafening, save for the distant echoes of the ocean, reminding us we weren’t completely trapped in this room.
“This is what I want,” she began, her gaze steady on mine. And then Wendy’s right hand reached for my left, guiding it to her bare neck. Wendy sank against the chair as my hand collared her throat. When I applied just the right pressure, her body tensed, but she offered me a subtle nod, and Wendy’s limbs relaxed. “I want our last night together back.”
A wicked grin spread across my face as I said, “That’s my good girl.”
Her hand remained on my forearm, her touch counteracting the chill of the evening air seeping in through the open window. Her fingers brushed lightly over my skin, each contact igniting a new fire trail in its wake.
“Is this what you want?” I asked her. There was an edge to my voice that had been missing earlier. A hunger that couldn’t be quelled. My thumb ran along her supple top lip, tracing the soft skin awaiting my mouth.
Wendy nodded wordlessly, biting her lower lip as if to suppress a moan. The action caused my cock to twitch in anticipation, and I found myself fighting back the urge to fuck her then and there. I moved closer to Wendy, pressing her gently back against the chair until we were chest to chest, our breaths mingling as my free hand prepared to explore the body I ached three long years for.
“I need you to pick a safe word.”
“Let’s use the same word as last time,” Wendy said, fighting a tremble.
“I need you to say it.” My hand on her neck tightened, and Wendy’s eyes darkened.
“Selfish.”
The air in both our bodies deflated, a calm settling over us, realizing we were back to where we started. “That’s my good slut.”
Her fingers gripped my forearm tighter, the tremble betraying the nerves she was struggling to hide.
“Relax,” I said, “Remember what we were? What we had?”
She nodded, her eyes half-lidded but still intent on mine. Gently, I brushed her cheek with my knuckles, her skin warm and soft. Her breath hitched as my fingers traced a path down from her cheek to her collarbone, a shiver of anticipation running through her at the touch.
“You’ve been waiting for me all this time, haven’t you?” My words hung in the air like a heavy fog, impossible to see through.
Wendy’s jaw clenched, her skin morphing to stone under my fingers. She was fighting the truth; I saw the struggle swirling in her orbs as her hands flew to the hand around her slender neck, clawing at my skin. “You don’t know anything,” she spat.
Did I push her too far too soon? I wanted to find out. “You’re wrong. This is why we’re here now.” My other hand entangled itself in her wild hair, twisting it around my fist, dragging a yelp from her mouth. Her body arched in response, biting her lower lip to stifle another sound of pleasure. I knew the contradicting signals she was sending, but my mind was too clouded with the desire to interpret them properly. A part of me knew she was resisting, but the other part... the one seeing the sparks in her eyes, the quickened rise and fall of her chest, the way her nails clawed into my arms. “I bet that pretty cunt is soaked and aching for me. Begging me to fuck you to hell because that’s where you think you belong because you want this. You want me.”
If Wendy’s eyes had the power to kill, I’d be a dead man. She wouldn’t break eye contact as her fingers dug into my skin, a press away from drawing blood. “Stop…” There was a warning in her tone, but it was overpowered by her lust-laced voice.
“If you want me to stop, you know what to say.” Bending over her, I traced the smooth line of her neck with my lips. Her breath hitched when I reached the hollow of her throat, biting the tender skin there. My hand moved lower, venturing past the swell of her breasts to settle on her flat stomach. Wendy’s body reacted instantly, arching into my touch. I lowered my fingers, flicking the gold button to her jeans. I continued lower, trailing one finger down to the apex of her thighs, realizing she wore a black bodysuit. My fingers danced along the silky fabric until they found the three snaps pressed against her warm pussy.
I clicked them open one by one, my eyes never leaving hers as I slid my hand beneath the thin barrier. She gasped as my fingers caressed her warm, wet folds, goosebumps blooming on her skin.
“Always so wet for me,” I said in a hushed tone. “You want this, don't you?” I circled her clit with my thumb, drawing a shaky moan from her lips. I sank one finger deep into her dripping cunt, curling it in as both of us held our breaths. I was ready to explode and desperately needed to free my cock. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this.” My breath came in harsh waves as I began to pump my finger in and out of her hot sex. Wendy's head fell back against the chair as her body writhed beneath me, her moans only encouraging me further. Her walls tightened around me, and she let out a gasp, her fingers clutching onto the armrest of the chair.
“Vincent…” Her voice was barely audible over the pounding of my heart. The way she said my name was desperate and pleading, which only fueled my desire for her. She was melting, showing me exactly what I had been missing for three years. Wendy reached for my dick under my pants, her fingertips grazing the outline of my erection. “Let me touch you.”
“Not yet,” I whispered into her ear, shifting my hips away, just out of Wendy’s reach. “Be a good girl, and I’ll give you everything you want.” Taking the loose front flap of Wendy’s body suit, I dragged it up her stomach, past her breasts, and held it level with her chin. “Because good sluts get rewarded. And you’re going to be my good little whore, aren’t you?”
Wendy’s mouth dropped open as my fingers stilled in her quivering pussy and gave the slightest nod. “Yes. I’ll be good.”
“You’ll be a good what?” I asked, bringing the piece of fabric closer to her mouth.
“Your good little whore.” Wendy’s chest heaved on the last word.
I grinned, shoving the bottom of the bodysuit between Wendy’s teeth. “Good. Now, bite down.”