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…but I don’t.
Regardless, the window of opportunity shuts, and he closes in, slamming inside me fast and hard. The pained gasp that escapes me at his sudden onslaught passes his notice as his head falls back, eyes close, and he releases a breath of respite.
Problem is, I know Vee. I know he is lost right now. If I don’t pull him out — bring his heart into the experience — he’ll have debilitating regrets in the morning. He will become a victim to self harm and may very well never forgive himself.
A harrowing groan fills the room. His bloodied fingers stab into my hips, and he thrusts again and again, nails digging hard, cock diving deeper with each movement.
“Vincent,” I whisper into the night, using his full name as both a demand and a breath of pleasure as my body starts lighting up at every point of contact. He shakes his head aggressively, eyes scrunching tight.
I try again, ensuring there is a bit more steel in my voice even though my heart beats wildly in my chest, ready to flutter away to pleasure-freedom. “Open your eyes.”
His fingers bruise into my hips, but he opens those amazing, baby blues I love so much… so light and clear they nearly glow in the moonlight. I scoop my fingers under the hem of my shirt and slowly move it over my head, only disconnecting our locked gazes when the material separates them.
When I toss the thin material off the bed, his eyes leave mine and travel down my body, bottom lip disappearing beneath his teeth, really looking at me for the first time since he walked through the door. He lets go of my hips, cock still buried, unwilling to detach, and shrugs off his jacket. Then he reaches behind his head and tugs his undershirt off in one motion, throwing it to the side.
The dark colors of the Italian flag tattooed on his bicep stands out in such contrast to his olive skin. The blood smeared on his face even more so. Chest heaving, his eyes meet mine again, and he bends forward, tattooed hand coming up to my face. “Bella…”
His focus flits over my features, and he presses his thumb to the corner of my mouth and swipes it sideways. I can feel the crackled blood transfer from his thumb across my cheek like chalk on a chalkboard. He seems mesmerized by the mark. His gaze flits up to my eyes, he pulls out of me halfway, and wedges back inside with a resonating groan.
“Vee,” I whisper again, sensing the emotional detachment seeping away once more. “You have me. I. Am. Right. Here.” Each word amalgamates with a moan and is emphasized by his desperate thrusts.
His chest pitches with each exaggerated breath, and he cups my face, looking deep into my eyes as he reaches down with his opposite hand and aligns with my lower entrance. He enters. Not as hard and fast as he had the first time, but hard and fast enough to pull a small squeak out of me. With his cock slick enough now and my tight hole prepped from the event with Coty earlier in the evening, the pain is slightly lessened, but a sharp twinge still jolts through my body.
Bringing his bloody hand to my face again, he presses his thumb into my cheek hard and drops his forehead to mine, eyes locked on as he pulls out slightly and grinds back in with a firm drive. His harsh breaths saw in and out. My eyes water and lashes flutter. His gaze flits to my mouth, and with the next hard thrust his lips slam down onto mine, eyes still wide open, gaze intensifying with each drive. He changes from solid, singular, preparatory thrusts to slow, deep, rolling pumps, pushing my body backward with each rev and crash.
Positioned just so, his body rubs against my clit with each grind. I let go, body loosening and opening fully beneath him. My eyes close, head angles back, and chest rises and falls rapidly, lechery building with every twinge of pain and every zing of pleasure.
The low, keening moan that vibrates out of me triggers something in Vee. He straightens and drops his hands back to my hips, ready to finally fuck me like he really wants. I slip my hand between us, middle finger swirling over my clit, eyes closing, throat humming. His slow, rough pumps increase in speed and intensity, slamming into my ass until his entire body vibrates and tenses all at once. A drawn out grunt and groan mix exudes from his chest and throat, and he buries himself deep one last time, filling me with convulsive, powerful streams.
He then pulls out, drops to his knees, and swipes his tongue from my pussy to my clit and back down again, dipping inside to fill me before laving upward and flicking and sucking.
My insides clench, back arches, pleading words flow from my lips, and I circle my hips against his face, losing myself under the attention of his tongue.
Body heaving and sweat misted, Vee stands, scoops me up, and knees walks me back to the top of the bed. Then he lays me down and collapses on top of me, head utilizing my stomach as a pillow.
Within seconds his breathing turns from rapid to slow and deep… but not before he sniffs and whispers, “I tried. I tried to save him.”
I ease my hand through his dark waves then drag my fingers lightly around his face, tracing the singular line of fresh dampness that had trekked from his eye down to the clef of his jaw — a creek of sorrow winding through the forest of blood.
The real questions are whose blood?… why?…
…and how can I protect Vee from the consequences?
