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A bit of suffering would go a long way in my road to repentance for putting my hands on her.
I let out a low groan when her teeth bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, shuddering against her.
“Fuck you,” she growled. But before I could pull away, her hands were trailing my arms and chest. She paused in her exploration to run her fingers across the mastectomy scars hidden under my shirt.
I shivered at her touch and pulled her hair harder, forcing her head back to meet my eye.
My mouth found her neck with the same vigor as I had her lips, licking and sucking until my kisses and bites blossomed into bruises against her fair skin.
She squirmed against me, her pants filling the room.
I let go of her to run my hands up her sides, slipping my fingers into her sports bra before running them over her nipples.
“God, do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch these?” I groaned against her neck, biting down hard, letting her feel all the frustration that I’d be suppressing since I’d last seen her.
I had lost count of how many times she changed in front of me. I had an inkling she did it on purpose, but I never said anything for fear I would lose my chance to watch her ever again.
“Taste them,” she commanded, fingers threading into my hair.
I hiked up her hoodie and bra in one go, disconnecting myself from her throat to take a look.
Victoria’s perky breasts stared back at me, moving with each rise of her chest. She arched up for me, my signal to stop ogling like a teenage boy who’d never seen tits before and get on with it.
I leaned forward, but instead of taking her nipple fully into my mouth, I looked up at her as I circled it with my tongue. She gasped when I did so, telling me my little act had the desired effect on her.
I couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across my lips.
“Delicious,” I said with a laugh.
Her face twisted as if she was ready to launch into an argument, but I shut her up by pulling the tightening bud firmly into my mouth and nibbling on it.
“Ah,fuck, like that,” she moaned.
I moved to the other, doing the same and earning myself a few weakly gasped praises.
She ground against me, searching for friction I hadn’t been kind enough to give her.
Without another word, I slipped my hand past the waistband of her pants, hunting for her clit.
She’s wet.So wet, my fingers slipped through her folds with ease.
And all because of me. My goddess was wet because of me.The knowledge alone made my head spin.
A strangled moan came out of her mouth, drawing my eyes to hers, only to see she wasn’t looking at me at all. I followed her gaze to the ceiling, heat bursting through me when I saw what she was seeing.
The two of us were reflected in the mirrors all around us, covered in blood and looking worse for wear. We were panting, our skin flushed and lips swollen from the intensity of our hurried kisses.
From this angle, I could make out her nipples shining with my spit, and my hand shoved between her legs. Even as I met her eye in the mirror, her hips kept bucking against my hand.
It was a fantasy I’d fucked myself to too many times to count. The image making my stomach clench and wet heat pooling between my legs.
“Tell me to stop,” I begged, my voice thick with need. “Please Vic, tell me to stop.”
Vic
Before the Games
If I was hoping Dylan’s lackluster conversation skills would be made up for in the bedroom, I was sorely disappointed.
