14. Wendy
If anyone asked me if I had lost my mind, the answer would be a hard yes. Because that was exactly how I felt being in Vincent’s hotel room, with my bodysuit’s crotch jammed into my mouth and getting finger fucked to an inevitable orgasm. I should have felt ashamed, weak, even used. But everything raging in my body screamed the exact opposite. With every thrust of Vincent’s thick fingers into my throbbing sex, the control coating my bones brought me back to life. Here I was, with a man who introduced me to the greatest heartache I’d ever experienced while simultaneously delivering emotions, even a secret language I only wanted to know with him and no one else.
Soon, my jeans were being ripped from my body like a flimsy rag, along with my shoes. I couldn’t even keep track of what was happening to me as I chased my climax. Vincent’s free hand squeezed and then twisted my hardened nipples and didn’t stop until a small cry of exquisite pain escaped my throat. My fingers grazed his jaw, guiding his face to mine until our lips crashed together into a hungry, sloppy, fucking incredible kiss. The room was suddenly too hot, or maybe it was just Vincent's body pressed against mine. His scent filled my senses, a wooden, musky one that threw me back to when we were one. It was too much. His fingers inside me, his mouth on mine, his hard length straining against his trousers, brushing against the inside of my thigh, sending a fresh rush of liquid heat to my center, only to coat Vincent’s hand. I tried to push him away, but my body betrayed me by pulling him closer. He ground against me, and I couldn't help but gasp into his mouth. His fingers quickened their pace; he was determined to bring me over the edge, and I was powerless to stop him. My body twisted and turned beneath his expert touch, hands clawing at his bare back under his shirt.
“Come on, baby,” Vincent began. “Let your sweet cunt squeeze my fingers.” He grabbed the saliva-soaked fabric from my mouth and yanked the bodysuit over my head, throwing it over my shoulder.
“Oh God.” I threw my head back. “I’m so close.”
Vincent shook his head, stopping his fingers, giving my clit one last pinch.
“Please,” I whimpered, but he only shook his head again, smirking at the desperation in my voice.
“Not yet,” he murmured, pulling his fingers from me. The sudden emptiness had me bucking against him, craving more. He only chuckled darkly before his lips were on mine again, silencing my protests. His fingers traced a molten path from my heated core to my breast, the contrasting cool air making me shiver despite the heat burning hot and fast within me. Vincent bent down to take a hardened nipple into his mouth. His tongue worked over the sensitive bud, sending lightning bolts of pleasure darting straight to my pussy. I cried out, my fingers threading through his thick hair, pulling him closer.
The unmistakable clink of his belt being unbuckled and pulled from the loops sent my pulse into overdrive. I was that much closer to having Vincent’s cock buried deep in me, and the wait was almost certain to kill me at this rate. Next, the sound of his zipper being dragged the few inches it needed to go, getting ready to free his throbbing dick. He stood, shrugging off his crisp shirt, revealing his sculpted torso with a sprinkling of dark hair that only accentuated his muscles.
“Now you can touch me.” Vincent’s deep, gravelly voice sent a biting shiver down my spine.
I reached out, dragging my nails down his smooth, muscled torso, and watched goosebumps follow in their wake. His eyes darkened to a lustful glow that mirrored my own. I moved my fingers lower until they reached the hem of his pants. He looked down at me with a smirk, daring me to go on. I didn't disappoint him. I pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift motion, freeing his engorged veined cock, oozing pre-cum, to bounce back against his stomach.
Instantly, saliva pooled under my tongue, readying myself, but Vincent had other plans. “Wrap your hand around me,” he ordered.
His voice was command and silk all in one, a potent blend that had me nodding, my fingers already curling around his thick length.
“Good girl,” Vincent whispered as his hand lazily traveled to my neck, squeezing the damp skin. “No mouth, just your hands,” he reminded me, watching my every move. “Show me how good you can be.”
My grip tightened around him, and I increased the speed, my hand gliding up and down his cock faster than before. His heavy breaths were music to my ears, the grunts and groans he released only fueled my arousal, making my pussy clench at nothing, wishing it was Vincent’s dick. But I knew I couldn’t ask. This was part of the game: I had to earn it. Or maybe it was the other way all along. Vincent needed to earn me back. My trust. My everything.
He let out a guttural moan when I twisted my hand around the head and gave it a sharp squeeze. Vincent abruptly pulled away, panting heavily. “Enough,” he choked out, pulling me to my feet. “Turn around.”
I obeyed, turning my back to him and bending over the chair with my ass in the air. There was a rustle behind me and then the soft tear of foil wrappers. His rough hand gripped my shoulder before pressing against me without any warning. A small gasp escaped me as he pushed his throbbing erection into me inch by agonizing inch until he was balls deep inside me. I almost forgot how perfectly Vincent filled me and how my walls clamped around his cock, savoring every inch, every vein, every ridge.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his grip on my hips bruising as he pulled out only to slam back in. The sharp slide of him against my sensitive flesh had me crying out, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.
“You're so tight.” Vincent’s fingers dug deeper into my flesh. “Always so damn tight for me.”
His voice was gruff, barely above a whisper, but it shuddered me, heating my blood. His pace quickened, each thrust harder than the last. I cried out his name, the sound echoing around the room. The pleasure was unbearable, and I could hardly stand it. The coil in my stomach tightened as my pussy clenched around Vincent’s erection, drowned in my juices. I was close, and when Vincent’s hand clamped around my neck, squeezing before slamming my back against his sweat-soaked chest, I knew it was a matter of seconds until I exploded around him.
“Fuck. I love how your pussy is so tight. Always so wet for me,” he panted, just as suddenly sending me forward onto the chair, pushing against my back.
His hand came down hard on my ass, a loud slap ringing out in the silent room. It sent an unexpected jolt of pleasure rippling through me and pushed me even closer to release. He grunted with each powerful thrust now, matching my own desperate cries.
“That's right,” he murmured in my ear, his hot breath sending chills down my spine despite the heat coursing through me. “This is where you belong... with me.” Vincent’s hand grabbed my hair, yanking me back, but my grip on the chair stayed firm. Again, a loud, unexpected crack against my ass shook the room and robbed me of the air my lungs desperately needed.
“Oh, fuck…” My voice trailed off as my forehead pressed against the chair’s leather. I reached behind, grabbing Vincent’s thigh, the taut muscle flexing under his skin. “I can’t take it.” I wasn’t even making sense anymore. The only goal I had was to capture my orgasm, which was a few seconds away.
His grip tightened on my hips almost painfully as he drove into me one last time.
“Come for me,” Vincent commanded just as I teetered on the edge of bliss. His fingers snaked around my waist, rolling my clit between his thumb and index finger, pinching. And then I was done.
The world exploded around me as I tipped over the edge, my body convulsing as an earth-shattering orgasm ripped through me. “Fuck, Vin.” A moan ripped through my throat, cracking my vocal cords.
“You know what I want to hear. Say it!” Vincent shouted.
“I... I...” My breath came out in jagged gasps as I clenched around him, my orgasm making me see stars.
“Say it!” Vincent growled again, his cock pulsing inside me, seemingly drawing my orgasm out, making it last longer.
“I’m coming,” I finally choked out after what felt like an eternity.
Vincent pulled out of my pussy mid-clench, tore off the condom, and then I felt his hot jets of cum paint my back. He groaned as his fingers traced patterns over the sticky heat on my skin. Our pants were the only sounds as we caught our breaths. His hands moved slowly but with a purpose; they touched me everywhere as if he were trying to memorize every inch of my flesh.
A bitter chill rippled across my skin when Vincent’s hands left my body. And when his footsteps moved away from the chair, my pulse soared, and instantly, I thought he was doing it again: abandoning me. I heard the faucet turn on from the bathroom, not daring to look. I let my ears guide my emotions, convincing me that he would be back.
Soon, the gush of the water ceased, and I listened as footsteps padded softly against the plush carpet. I held my breath, waiting with baited anticipation for the uncertainty of his return to shatter. Soft material brushed against my sticky back, and a soothing voice whispered, “I’m here, Wendy, I’m not going anywhere.”
The cotton towel swept over me gently, clearing away the remnants of our mixed juices. My heart still raced, but a comfort snaked around it now, hushing its frantic beat.
“Turn around,” he commanded gently. A contrast to the earlier dominance he exuded minutes ago. I obeyed, turning to face him, bracing myself against the chair for support. I looked up at Vincent as he towered over me, a soft smile on his lips. He dropped to his knees in front of me and took my hands. His rough palms felt comforting against my flushed skin. His thumbs traced circles on my knuckles as he lifted one hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss.
“You're still here,” I whispered, staring at him in disbelief.
Vincent looked startled momentarily before bringing my hands to his chest, resting over his heart. “I'm not going anywhere,” he vowed again, looking deep into my eyes.
I nudged forward to press my forehead against his. His warm breath mingled with mine. Our lips met in a lazy and lingering kiss, with no urgency like before. It was as if, with each passing second, he was assuring me of his loyalty, commitment, and love. But was it enough for me? I could have said something to add to the moment, except all I wanted to do was listen and stay quiet.
“Come here,” he said, lifting me like a feather and carrying me to the bed. He laid me down like a precious piece of crystal glassware. His eyes, those intense ocean-blue eyes of his, bore into mine, speaking volumes without uttering a single word. “I'm here, Wendy.” He repeated the line at least three times. His voice was as soft as the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows across our entwined bodies. Vincent covered me under the thick golden duvet blanket and handed me a chilled glass of water. He brought the cup to my lips, and I drank obediently. While I downed half the glass, I watched Vincent pull on his black boxers and raid the mini fridge, grabbing whatever overpriced snack he assumed I would enjoy.
He returned with a small packet of chocolate-covered almonds. He sat on the bed beside me, his back leaning against the headboard and one arm draped over my waist. His lips brushed against my forehead. “I assume you still like these?” Vincent tore open the pack, offering me a few morsels. I took it because that was what I was supposed to do. First, listen, and then be taken care of. Except, something about this felt too easy.
“I do.” I chewed slowly.
“Do you remember the night on the yacht?” he asked.
A smile tugged at my lips as I recalled the memory. “How could I forget? You'd been trying to impress me with your sailing skills.”
“And I ended up capsizing the boat,” he finished for me, laughing at the story, and when his eyes searched my face to join in, his face dropped.
Because I wasn’t smiling. I was a statue.
Vincent cleared his throat, shifting away from me. “I know it’ll take time to rebuild what we lost, but I’m ready to do whatever I need to do to make you believe me.”
“You used a condom,” I blurted out, sitting straight up but bringing the covers with me to conceal my breasts.
A half-nervous laugh escaped Vincent’s mouth. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
“We never used condoms when we were together.” I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly realizing I didn’t want to be here. What I needed to do was think about everything alone.
“Well, it’s been a while since you and I…you know.” He gestured between us. “And I wasn’t going to assume you’re on birth control. I was just acting responsible.”
“Responsible?” I repeated and then understood how much work it would take to fix things between us and how much time we lost. Throwing off the blanket, I stumbled off the mattress when Vincent’s fingertips brushed my forearm, but I jerked it away. “I’m fine.” I grabbed my discarded clothes from the floor and threw them onto my body.
“Wendy, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m getting dressed. I have to go home.”
He shot up, the sheet pooling to his waist as he watched me. “Wendy, wait.” The desperation ran thick in Vincent’s tone.
“Vincent, I need time.” I fumbled with my jean’s zipper before managing to pull it up. My heart hammered in my chest as I kept my back to him, afraid of what I'd see in his eyes if I turned around.
“Time for what?” he asked as his bare feet padded across the plush carpet toward me.
“Are you serious right now?” I spun around, finding Vincent hovering over me.
“Look, I know this is a lot, but let’s figure this out together. It’s always going to be us going forward.”
“I’m not sure what I want right now.” I delivered a deadpan expression, only to be met with Vincent’s wide, shocked orbs. He really thought he had me. Well, he was about to find out he would need to work like a fucking dog to earn me back. I pulled on my leather jacket and grabbed my purse from the table while Vincent continued to study me like a math equation he couldn’t solve. “Did you really think by fucking me tonight, you’d have me just like that?” I snapped my fingers.
“Wendy, it’s not like that.” Vincent shook his head.
“Because the last time, you fucked me to get rid of me.”
Vincent clenched his jaw in response and jolted back to life when I twisted the brass doorknob to open it. “When can I see you next?” He stepped closer.
“You’ll figure it out. You’re a smart boy.” I yanked the door open.
“Let me walk you out, at least.” Vincent grabbed his pants, dressing and wasting zero seconds.
“Not necessary. Have a good night, Vincent.”
And then I was gone.