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Her eyes flashed angrily, the slight flare of her nostrils only underscoring her rage. I hadn’t intended that, but I also hadn’t considered how any of this would look from her perspective, but I could see it clearly now. A rare stab of guilt passed through my heart.
“I…”
“What?” she said, her eyes bugging slightly, pain now glittering in them.
“I just wanted to show him,” I finally said, trying to explain, hoping she’d understand.
“Show him what? That ownership has been transferred? That I’m yours now and not his?”
“Show him that he had no power over you, that no one owns you, not even me,” I said quietly.
Her lip trembled and tears began streaming down her face. I stroked my thumb across her cheek to gather her tears, then leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers.
* * *
Fawn
I didn’t know what I had expected, wasn’t sure what had made me think he wouldn’t care how I felt, think that he wouldn’t react, but whatever I had expected, it hadn’t been this. Anger. Yes. Coldness. Distance. All were possibilities. But this gentleness, almost sweetness, hadn’t even crossed my mind.
It shoved me off balance and made me want him even more.
I exhaled and let myself revel in his touch. Vasile’s kiss was different, no less potent but there was an openness, a kindness, as if he was trying to show me the truth of his words through his touch. But he didn’t push or deepen the kiss. Instead he held back, silently urging me to take the lead.
It was more than anyone had ever offered, and something I wanted to take. I pressed my lips against his harder, slipped my tongue between them as I curled my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. He put his hands on my hips, his body coiled with restrained power, but he didn’t press and that restraint made me want him all the more.
So I kissed him freely, with abandon, let my hands touch him. I let my hands move over his always-rough jaw, down the fine, expensive-feeling cotton of his shirt, down his hard chest. Without breaking our connection, I opened the two buttons that held his jacket together and laid my hands flat against his hard stomach and chest. Even through his shirt, I felt the heat of his skin and wanted more.
Vasile kept his hands on my hips, and though he tightened them, pushed his lips against mine, he didn’t try to take over. I pulled his shirt from his pants, and the soft whish of fabric sounded low in the room, only heightening the already throbbing need that had overtaken me. I finally broke the kiss and looked up at him, his eyes dark, lids heavy.
I walked my fingers up his chest and then pulled at the knot of his tie, yanking it off him. He’d been devastating in his suit, but I wanted him, the real him, and I made haste to remove the fine clothes that hid the man underneath. I worked his buttons open one by one, excitement heightening at each scrap of ink-covered skin that was exposed. And after I’d pushed the shirt off his shoulders I stared at him, the heavy slabs of his chest, his tight stomach, the hard ridge that tented his pants.
One breath, then another, and I pressed my body against his, my breasts against his chest and then pressed my hand against that ridge as I kissed the smooth, hot skin that covered his collarbone. He exhaled quickly and then ran his hands up my back, the slight roughness of his hands against my skin setting off sizzling embers of desire that settled at the apex of my thighs. I kept my hand pressed against him and then worked open his belt and quickly lowered his pants.
His iron-hard cock was damp with his desire, but he didn’t try to hasten me, not even when I gripped him, huffing out at the touch of the velvet-soft skin of his shaft and not even when he shuddered after I circled the mushroom-shaped head of his cock. He gripped my hip tight, exhaled, but stayed still as I stroked him, wanting to feel every vein, every millimeter of his soft skin, feel his hardness pulse in my palm.
Then I released him and pushed him down on the edge of the bed. He leaned back on his hands, his huge chest heaving, his cock rising from between his legs, beckoning me.
I answered the call and stepped toward him and then straddled him slowly. I reached between our bodies and gripped the base of his shaft, stroked it along my slit. We both cried out at the contact, and Vasile again grabbed my hip, his hold almost punishing, but the gleam of pleasure in his eye more than worth it. I circled my clit with the head of his cock and then lifted my hips and centered him at the edge of my opening.
Gazes connected, I lowered slowly, filling myself with him inch by inch until he was fully inside me, our bodies as close as they could possibly be. I wrapped my legs around him, and then he sat up, put his arms around me, crushing my breasts against his chest. I was surrounded by him, couldn’t break away unless he allowed. But here, like this, was as safe, as loved as I had ever felt.
He bit at my shoulder, and I pressed my lips against his neck and then, wrapped in his embrace, I rocked against him in an awkward rhythm that was absolutely perfect. My breathing grew erratic as the pleasure swelled and Vasile’s hardness pulsed inside me, his warm breath on my shoulder, his arms around my back showing me his pleasure better than anything else could.
Then he stilled, went rigid beneath me, and the first jet of his cum triggered my own release.
FIFTEEN
Vasile
“Vargas send you?” I asked Priest without bothering to look up.
“No one sends me anywhere,” he replied before he settled across from me at the table.
“So to what do I owe this visit?” I asked, leaning back to look at him.
He just shook his head. “That was foolish, Vasile.”
“So I should have let that idiot insult me? Insult her?” I said, slamming my hand on the table.
