His hands are in my hair now, trying to pull me away. But instead, I use my hand to stroke him softly before going back in to deep throat again.
“Oh god.” He chants it now, a steady rhythm of words before it switches to Italian and I don’t understand anymore.
Seeing him like this, completely at my mercy ratchets my own arousal higher. Especially when he opens his eyes again and our eyes connect while I’m taking him so deep.
“Fuck. I have to–”
At his anguished rasp, I stop immediately, chuckling when he groans. I need him inside me. I need to hold him closer.
He seems to sense my desperation because he leans over the bed to find his wallet.
“If I don’t have a condom I’m going to cry,” he jokes.
I lean over and pull open the nightstand. “There’s a box in here.”
He grabs it. I watch as he rips open the box and pulls out a strip of protection. With some guys the condom thing is awkward and I usually find a reason not to look. But not with Vin. His dark eyes
stay on mine as he rolls on a condom, stroking himself the whole way.
My cheeks heat. Trust Vin to make putting on a condom a show.
When he climbs back in bed, I let out a sigh of satisfaction at the first touch of our naked bodies. Our skin sliding together feels so good.
His groan tells me he feels the same.
“Tell me what you want, my little devil.”
Gentle suctioning kisses cover my throat in between his words. All while his hips move with a slow, grinding rhythm.
“You. Inside me.”
His hand moves down to test my readiness and his sharp intake of breath tells me he loves what he finds. One finger curls deep, rubbing until I gasp his name. Then he grabs my thigh and wraps it around his waist.
I cry out when he thrusts deep, sliding right where I need him. My hips move with his like we’ve done this before a million times. With him, it’s natural. I don’t feel like I have to act sexy or do anything to make it good.
It’s good because it’s us.
It’s great because I love him.
“Vin. Please.”
My pussy clenches and his hands tighten under my bottom. The unexpected caress there throws my orgasm into overdrive. I can barely hang on as I splinter apart, screaming his name.
“Ari. My sweet girl.” His words devolve into a jumble of Italian until he pauses, his hips jerking in short, sharp thrusts like his pleasure is being pulled out of him.
The aftermath feels like we just survived a shipwreck. It takes a minute for my breathing to slow and for the ringing in my ears to subside.
But despite just screaming my head off, for the first time in ages, my soul feels calm.
While Vin takes a shower, I curl up in my bed completely content. Maybe it’s just the aftereffect of great sex but I’m feeling uncharacteristically emotional.
He said some pretty heavy things to me today. That he wanted to be here when I needed him. That he would give me his beating heart.
I’m not the kind of girl who needs flowery words or all that romantic bullshit but I would have to be made of ice not to be affected by him. Vin doesn’t pull any punches when he wants something. A fact that I admire while it also scares the hell out of me.
He’s decided I’m what he wants and the pressure to be worthy of that is immense. This man deserves every good thing.
I am still not sure that I am going to be good for him.