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My hips thrust upward, seeking pressure for my clit. It rubs against my palm, and everything within me tightens.
“Fuck. You’re so fucking wet. Pull your fingers in and out so I can hear it better.”
I slide my fingers out of my body, rubbing along my clit before pushing them back inside.
“Like that,” he murmurs, his face mere inches from my pussy. “Fuck. I can smell you. My little whore is dripping. Let me taste you.”
“No,” I groan out, my fingers exiting my body once again to massage my clit.
“Evil,” he growls, more to himself than me. “Say my name when you come.”
Pushing my palm against myself, I dip my fingers into my pussy, deep enough to make me cry out. “Vinnie. Baby.”
I fall into the armchair, my body sweaty, my breathing ragged.
My hand retracts from my body, but Vincent grabs it before I can wipe my cum on my thigh. He moves my arm, positioning my hand to my lips. Tracing my lips with my fingers, he watches as he drags my climax over my skin. My orgasm clings to the open pout of my mouth, and my pussy throbs at the carnal way he looks at me. Arching over my body, he claims my mouth. His tongue meets my lips first, collecting my cum with a wet caress. His lips crash to mine, and I meet his frenzied kiss with the desperation of a sated woman. Vincent consumes me, and I give him everything, letting everything I want and need to bleed into our kiss.
He pulls back roughly, running a rough hand through his hair. His lips tip up in a sexy half-grin, a small shake of his head following a cough of laughter. “Hurry up and give yourself to me, Bianca.”
“I’m here.”
His nostrils flare in resentment. He stands, adjusting his erection with a grunt of discomfort. “You’re welcome,” he snarls.
“I made myself come.”
“Tell yourself what you want.” He walks away. “It might not have been my hand, but you imagined it was. It was my voice coaxing that orgasm out of you, Bianca. It was my name on your whore lips when you came apart.”
He stops at the door, glancing over his shoulder. “This whole house has cameras, Bianca. Remember that. Remember every orgasm you give in to ismine. No matter where you are, I’ll be watching, and that’ll be the thought that pushes you over the edge.Me.”
thirteen
“Hi.”
Vincent remains at the threshold of the elevator into our apartment. He stares at me in a way that makes my feet pause. The lock of hair that always seems to escape order has curled over his forehead. His eyes close over, lines of violence creasing at the edges.
I hold the napkin I was ready to lay on the table tightly in my hand. “Is everything okay?”
“Don’t bother setting a place for me.” His voice cuts across the room with warning, and I swallow.
I glance at the already made table. His seat presses into my hip, his cutlery and placemat already laid out.
“Are you going out?”
His fist clenches around his keys. I want to step closer, but his mood urges me not to.
A quick shake of his head. “No.”
“Have you already eaten?” Nerves claw their way up my throat.
“I’ve lost my appetite.” His top lip curls up, baring his teeth.
My stomach twists with panic. “Something you can’t talk to me about?” I test.
His brows hang over his eyes dramatically, a potent mixture of disappointment and anger and, if I’m not mistaken,hurtscrutinizing me. “You’re just going to stand there and play dumb?”
“Play dumb?” My hands drop to my sides.
“Fuck,” he spits, slamming a fist against our entryway table.
