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Not that I wouldn’t fight for a yes and an invitation to heaven instead.
I ran my fingertips gently over her arm, then reached down to trace the graceful lines of her leg, all the way to the hip. She shifted slightly and sighed, her face still relaxed in sleep. I tried again, brushing her hair away from her cheeks, unable to stop myself from touching her soft skin and rubbing my knuckles over her face.
My thumb followed the soft curve of her lip before pressing a chaste kiss there. Then I started again. Her arms. The long sweep of golden skin from ankle to hip. Her neck.
This time, when I got to her lips, I realized she was smiling.
“Playing possum, little girl?”
“Maybe,” she said, her eyes still closed.
“You like it when I touch you like this?” I asked, tracing the edge of her collarbone, then barely brushing the back of my hand over her already pert nipples.
“Yes, Vincent.”
“And like this?”
I breathed increasingly intimate questions against her ear as my hands did increasingly filthy things to her body. We were both eager in no time.
Especially her. Francesca was squirming, trying to arch into my touch, rocking her hips against my hand when I paused my exploration to toy with her folds. She was desperate for me in a matter of minutes.
Just the way I intended.
I liked it when my woman needed the special thing only I could provide. I had plans to keep her aroused as often as possible. I was the man. I was supposed to be the one to stay in control while she got all sexy and needy for me.
“Vincent . . .” she moaned, grabbing my wrist to keep me from pulling away from the sweet stickiness between her thighs. I chuckled knowingly, pausing to suck her juices from my fingers before starting again.
“Please!” she cried out a few minutes later.
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me,” she said with perfect enunciation. I inhaled sharply at the direct look she gave me. It was the sexiest goddamn thing I’d seen in my life.
I didn’t answer. I just did what the lady asked. After all, I didn’t want to be rude.
“Frankie,” I groaned as I pushed forward, filling her with my body. I finally understood the concept of becoming one with someone else. Sex with us wasn’t just about passion, though I’d never felt anything close to what we had. It was spiritual. It was profound.
It was damn near religious.
I was more than willing to worship at her altar any damned day of the week. Not just Sundays, that was for fucking sure.
We stared into each other’s eyes as I fucked her hard, slow, and deep. I couldn’t hold back for long. I was too desperate for her. My pace quickened without conscious thought. Francesca urged me on, her legs wrapping around my hips as I rode her faster and faster.
She reached the pinnacle before I did. Just barely. The way her body clamped down on mine, clenching and pulling me deeper . . . how could I have lasted another second more?
I roared as my release made me lose control. I thrust wildly into her, cursing and trembling and afraid I was too rough. That I might be hurting her.
But she was screaming, “Yes, Vincent! Yes!”
I was laughing and coming as I kissed her, hoping her daughter could not hear. I was afraid we would wake the whole house.
And I wanted some more playtime with my woman before anyone else woke up.
The orgasm seemed to go on forever. It was as if I’d never come before. As if I’d never had a woman. Never been touched, or held, or kissed.
With Francesca, every time felt like the first time.
Eventually, I rolled away, pulling her into my side. She snuggled against me sweetly. We had exactly ten seconds of utter bliss.
Until . . .
“Vincent! You are bleeding!”
“I don’t care,” I said, eyes closed and unwilling to move.
“Vincent, let me rephrase that,” she said in an oddly calm voice. “You are bleeding a lot.”
I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was sitting up, the sheets around her waist. Her eyes were on my midsection. I glanced down and cursed.
She was right.
I was bleeding a lot.
Too much.
“Call Doc. Text Tiny and he will do it.”
She nodded and scrambled out of the bed, grabbing both of our phones. I heard her dictate into her phone, using mine for the numbers. She ran back to the bed and sat beside me, gingerly pulling the sheet away from my body.
“I should apply pressure.”
“Yes. Apply pressure. Sit on me.”
“You are insane! You could be bleeding to death.”
“I will live, but just in case I don’t . . .” I trailed off, trying to use guilt to get her to climb on top of me. “We have time for a quickie.”
