Wicked Burn

Vic’s lips moved silently. His eyes narrowed as he studied her closely. When he finally spoke, his words surprised her a little. “What was his name?”

“Michael. He would be eight this September if . . .”

Her voice faded. She hadn’t realized that tears spilled down her cheeks until Vic cradled her face in his hands and slid his thumbs over her skin gently, sweeping away the moisture.

“You were a mother,” he stated rather than asked. He looked awestruck.

“Yes.”

Much to her surprise, Vic smiled. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, at first reverently, then with increasing heat.

“You know . . . I can see it perfectly, Niall,” he whispered hoarsely before he gently pushed her back onto the pillows. Without saying another word he removed her satin shorts and parted her nightshirt. He studied her in the golden glow of the dim light for an eternal few seconds before his dark head lowered to her breast.

Niall gasped out loud at the pleasure of his slow, sweet suck. Her back arched off the bed.

Boys communicate through actions, she reminded herself dazedly.

She closed her eyes and listened very carefully as Vic spoke to her in his own poignant fashion.

She groaned in rising arousal and his warm, abrasive tongue lashed tenderly at her left breast, as if to soothe her for drawing on her so stringently. His big hands spread wide across her ribs and back, in an embrace that struck Niall as cherishing as well as possessive, as he held her off the bed for his hungry mouth. Her chest seemed to ache with love even as her womb drew inward with desire. She wondered if Vic really knew how much he held her heart both literally and figuratively in his hands.

Her fingers raked through his thick, unruly hair when his mouth lowered down over her ribs and belly, whispering his lips across her sensitive skin, scraping his teeth ever so lightly on her sides, dipping his tongue into her bellybutton. She cried out his name when he transferred his hands down to her hips and lifted her pussy to his mouth. His warm tongue prowled between her swollen, damp labia, sometimes a gentle tease, making her whimper with longing, other times a firm and insistent master that caused her to cry out sharply with desire at each hard lash and stab.

Niall writhed in a haze of blissful agony when he inserted two fingers into her drenched slit and twisted his wrist before he withdrew. Her hips bounced on the bed at the unexpected harsh jolt of pleasure that rocketed through her. Vic’s steady suck on her clit pitched her excitement unbearably higher. When she felt his fingers withdraw from her aching vagina, along her perineum to her sensitive asshole, her lips and eyes parted wide in tense anticipation.

His tongue polished her clit until Niall was surprised it didn’t burn, it sizzled with so much heat. She begged him for release between cries of bliss, without ever being conscious of forming the words. When he pushed his finger into her ass to the first knuckle, withdrew and quickly reinserted it all the way, Niall screamed helplessly in orgasm. He kept her flying around the realms of bliss for a seeming eternity by sucking on her clit relentlessly and finger-fucking her ass with increasing force while pleasure blasted through her.

When her spasms finally slowed and dissipated, Vic withdrew his finger and sat up.

“I have something for you,” he muttered hoarsely as he drew his shirt over his head. His eyes glowed with banked desire as he stood and looked down at her.

“What?” Niall asked as she watched him unsnap his jeans. She was a little disappointed that he didn’t lower them but instead headed to his closet. He reached so far into the back of it that Niall thought he was going to fall in before he finally straightened, holding a crumpled sack. Her brows furrowed in curiosity when he paused by his dresser and removed something that she couldn’t quite see because he placed it behind his thick watch, which was turned on its side. He returned to the bedside still carrying the sack.

Niall didn’t question him any more in the tense silence that followed as she watched him remove his clothing. Her arousal kicked up to a slow, steady burn once again at the sight of his muscles rippling beneath taut, tanned skin and his penis bobbing up eagerly when it was released from the constraints of a pair of snug boxer briefs. The thick, tapered head seemed to wave at her teasingly as he moved, making her mouth water. Vic reached into the bag and removed a box. He opened it and spilled the contents into his hand before he dumped the packaging onto his bedside table and knelt on the bed.

“Vic? What . . . ?” her voice trailed off in amazement when he slipped something over one foot and then the other. Before she knew it, he was pulling black elastic straps over her hips, almost as if he’d just pulled a pair of underwear on her. Niall’s eyes widened as she sat up slightly and stared down at her crotch while he tightened the straps with sure hands.

Only this wasn’t like any pair of underwear she’d ever seen. What looked like a yellow butterfly spread its wings over her labia, the round little body directly over her clit.

“It’s a vibrator,” Vic said gruffly when he saw her bemused expression. As if to prove his point, he flipped a switch on the little battery pack that Niall hadn’t noticed until now. She gasped at the quick, fluttering vibrations on her most sensitive flesh. “I was going to give it to you last Christmas but . . . never got the chance.

“How’s that speed?” Vic asked gruffly after a moment, as he studied her face.

“Nice,” Niall mumbled, wide-eyed at the delicious sensation of the butterfly buzzing. Not as nice as Vic’s skilled tongue but still . . . very nice, indeed.