by S. J. Tilly
His eyes never leave my face. His fingers become more deliberate. The pressure firmer.
“Come, Sasha.”
His demand is the last straw. The orgasm hits me so suddenly, and so strongly, that I gasp. Or curse. I’m not sure. His fingers don’t let up, but they slow, finally stopping when my body stops shuddering. I didn’t think I could come on command. But I was wrong.
So. Fucking. Wrong.
Vincent’s weight shifts above me. My eyes fell closed again at some point when I was lost in bliss. Opening them, I watch Vincent slide off the bed, bringing my pants and underwear with him. I don’t need the command this time. I tug off my top and release my bra. It’s not a sexy show of stripping. It’s expedient. Nudity is the endgame and I’m nothing if not goal orientated.
Standing at the foot of the bed, he watches me. Even though I just had the best orgasm I’ve had in, well, a long time, I’m ready for another one. I’m ready to feel him inside me. Laying back, I prop myself up on my elbows. No point in trying to hide myself now. He knows what he’s getting. It’s too late to be shy about a little bit of belly.
Vincent’s eyes trail a line down my body, savoring every last inch of exposed skin. Clearly liking what he sees. Watching his face as he takes me in is fascinating. And intoxicating.
Feeling brave, I issue my own command. “Come here.”
His eyes rise to meet mine, as a cocky grin forms on his lips.
I watch in rapt attention as his fingers undo each button on his shirt, steadily parting the fabric. His clothing did nothing to hide his size, but now I’m able to get a glimpse of the man beneath. I can tell that he’s older than me, and even with his handsome face, I was prepared for just an okay body. But Vincent is far from okay. He’s built. Not airbrushed and hairless. But firm and thick and all man.
When he pushes his pants off, I see a flash of boxer briefs. But then he slides those down too, revealing himself to me. Standing at the foot of the bed, Vincent is entirely naked. And very, very hard. Drinking in the sight of him, I want to pat myself on the back for snagging such a wonderful man for the night. Along with a drool-worthy body, he has a beautiful cock. That’s not something I’ve ever thought before, but it’s true. He’s large in every, wonderful, sense. My pussy nearly hurts just looking at it, but I’ve always loved a challenge.
I let my legs drop open.
Vincent’s smirk slips when he grabs the base of his dick and squeezes. In his other hand, he’s holding a small shiny package. I don’t know where it came from, but I’m glad my assumption that he’d have a condom was correct.
Eyeing his display, I decide I want a taste.
I shift to sit up, but Vincent shakes his head. “Stay right there.”
He tears open the condom.
“Lay back.”
I do.
“Spread your legs wider.”
I obey.
“Good girl.” His praise sends a shiver across my skin.
I’m panting with need as Vincent crawls over me, using his knees to push my thighs even further apart.
Finally, he lowers himself. Mouth hovering over mine. Cock rubbing against my entrance. Close. So close to where I want him. To where I need him. My legs go around his waist, my arms around his shoulders.
Vincent slides his nose against mine, in a gesture that’s unexpectedly tender. “Relax, sweetheart.”
I exhale and let my muscles loosen.
In one sudden move, Vincent’s lips crush against mine at the same time he pushes his cock inside me. All the way to the hilt. In one hard thrust. The feeling of him filling me, combined with the emotional wave of our first kiss, is too much. The sensation is too overwhelming. I cry out in shock and pain and pleasure.
He pulls out, presses in, and just like that, I’m coming. Again.
I’m caged in. Vincent’s encasing me. One hand holding the back of my head, his mouth plundering mine, his other hand squeezing my breast, pinching my nipple. My body doesn’t stop convulsing. My pussy is throbbing with each thrust, matching Vincent. My mind’s so blurry I can’t form words, and I think I have tears in my eyes.
“Fuck. Sasha. Fuck.” Vincent buries his face in my hair. “You feel so good.”
I’m lost in him. In this moment. In the experience. Sense of time evades me, and I feel myself hanging on for dear life. I don’t want it to ever end, but I’m afraid I won’t survive another minute.
His thrusts are getting slower. Harder. His movements jerky.
Vincent groans against my neck. “Goddamn, you feel so fucking good.”
He slams into me hard. Once, twice, then I feel his thumb on my clit. My body can’t take it. I think I’ve been suffering from one long never-ending orgasm this whole time, but that doesn’t stop my body from starting all over. I shatter. Moaning loudly. Clawing at Vincent’s shoulders. Arching against his hard body.
“That’s it, baby.” One more thrust and Vincent stills. His body going tight. His groan of release filling my head.
Vincent’s weight collapses onto me, pressing me into the mattress.
A moment before sleep pulls me under, I think to myself that this wouldn’t be a bad way to die.
CHAPTER FOUR
SASHA
R olling over, the pressure on my bladder nags me into awareness.
Slowly prying my eyes open, I realize I forgot to pull the curtains closed and the light from the strip is falling across the bed. When I push to sit up, the soreness between my legs reminds me that this isn’t my room, isn’t my bed.
I blink the sleep from my eyes and look around, but I don’t see Vincent. The bathroom door is still ajar, emitting a soft glow, so I know it’s available. I gingerly climb out of bed and pad naked to the bathroom to do my business.
Finding one of Vincent’s t-shirts bunched up next to the sink, I slip it on before going back into the bedroom. Even though he’s seen all there is to see, out of the heat of the moment I don’t really feel like strolling around completely nude.
Standing there, in a stolen shirt, I start to question what to do next. This is his room. I’m the one that’s supposed to leave.
I don’t even remember falling asleep. I remember wondering if a person can die from too many orgasms. And then ... nothing. I must have literally passed out the second Vincent climbed off me. Maybe even before. I cringe. No wonder he ditched.
Just as the thought comes, I hear his voice. Glancing around again, I see that the door leading out into the main room is not quite shut. Finally noticing the small amount of light seeping through, I quietly step closer and place my eye against the crack of the door. It takes me a moment to focus, but after my eyes adjust, I see his profile on the couch.
Figuring he’s on the phone, I place my hand on the doorknob but pause when I hear a second voice. Is someone else in that room? I can’t walk out there dressed in just his t-shirt and looking freshly fucked. Not if he has company.
I keep my eye to the crack and see a man pace into view on the far side of Vincent. It’s hard to tell, but I think it might be the same security guy that I saw in the hallway earlier. Was there a disturbance or something? Oh god, was it us? Was I really that loud?
I guess that settles it, I’m staying in this room for at least a little while longer. I find the clock and see that it’s just after 2:00 a.m. Standing there, debating my options, a chill crawls up my bare legs. Screw it. What’s the harm in getting a few more hours of sleep in Vincent’s big, warm, comfy bed?
Crawling back onto the mattress, I bury myself in the covers and promptly fall back asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
SASHA
T his time it’s not the need to pee, or voices, or light that wakes me. It’s the mouth trailing kisses down my neck and the hand between my legs.
Coming to, I become aware that I’m on my side and Vincent is pressed against the length of my back. Naked. And hard.
I’m still sore from earlier, but it’s a good kind of sore. One I’m willing to add to.
Lifting my leg, I hook it back around Vincent’s hip. Opening myself to him.
That’s all the invitation he needs.
This time the slide in is slow, allowing me to feel every stiff inch. Last time it felt like he was tearing me in half, this time he’s filling me with a steady burn.
His arms are around me, holding me in place, touching me, feeling me.
“Vincent.” His name comes out as a whisper.
“Louder.” He growls into my hair.
I swallow, gathering my voice. “Vincent.”
“That’s right, sweetheart. I want to hear my name on your soft lips. Calling out for me.”
His words send a rush of excitement through me, and my body clenches around him. “So good… Vincent… Yes…”
“So good.” He agrees. His hand is back between my thighs, rubbing circles in sync with his pumping hips. “Why, baby… Why do you feel so fucking good? So fucking perfect? It shouldn’t…” Vincent hisses out a breath. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel it.”
This time my orgasm’s been building on a slow climb. The crescendo hits when he tells me to come. But instead of a scream, I let go on a groan. My body tightening around him as his arms tighten around me. Vincent’s groan matches mine, his hips pressed hard against my ass, as he comes undone with me.
My heart rate starts to slow and the lingering haze of sleep finally lifts. I watch as Vincent slides off the bed to throw away the condom. When he climbs back into bed, he pulls me close, molding my body into his side with his arm slung around my shoulders.
With his lips pressed to my forehead he murmurs. “You’re too good for me, sweet Sasha.”
Feeling warm and sated, I smile against his chest.
I want to stay here, wrapped up in strong arms. Feeling safer than I can ever remember feeling. But I can’t stay. I had my fun, and now I need to get back to my previously scheduled life.
When his breathing evens out, I slip from the bed. Careful not to wake him.
Getting dressed in my discarded clothes, I decide to keep his t-shirt. It’s plain grey, nothing special, but it smells like him. It might be stealing, but it’s only fair since I’m pretty sure the Devil stole a piece of my soul.
CHAPTER SIX
VINCENT
“V
incent, quit sulking.”
I glance over at my dad before focusing my attention back out the window. I want to tell him how dumb and boring these stupid lunches are, but I know that’ll just get me into more trouble. Why couldn’t I just have gone over to Angelo’s house. We could be playing his Nintendo right now. And his mom lets us drink as much pop as we want. I grit my teeth. Instead, I’m going to be stuck drinking gross water with lemon and eating something equally lame.
I use the toe of my shoe to kick at the bottom of the driver’s seat in front of me. It’s childish, but the driver, Henry, won’t rat me out. And dad’s already back deep in conversation with his bodyguard, so he doesn’t notice.
I know I’m being a little shit. I just can’t help it. I have no interest in taking over Dad’s businesses when I’m older. I want to be a pilot. Travel the world. Not spend my days in stuffy meetings or fancy restaurants with a bunch of old men.
The car slows as Henry pulls to a stop in front of the valet at Dad’s favorite restaurant.
I fold my arms over my chest as the bodyguard gets out of the passenger seat and my dad opens his door.
“Vincent, get out of the car,” Dad snaps before climbing out and slamming his door, cutting off my reply.
I roll my eyes and take my time unbuckling my seatbelt. Grumbling to myself about how unfair this is, I reach for the door handle. But when I tug, the door doesn’t open. Henry must have forgotten to take the child lock off my door. That makes me even madder. I’m not a fucking child anymore. I’m 12 years old. Practically a man.
I open my mouth to smart off to Henry when movement across the street catches my attention.
Two men are climbing out of a van that’s parked in a loading zone. They have long black jackets on, and as they cross the street, they pull down on the front of their winter hats until the black material covers their faces. Only their eyes are showing, and it makes them look scary.
My heart rate picks up. This isn’t good. Something is wrong.
Both men reach inside their jackets and when their hands come back up, they’re holding guns.
They walk right into the street, stepping in front of cars. Then in unison, the guns raise. And they’re pointed right at my dad.
My dad’s still standing next to our car, talking with his bodyguard. Neither of them see the danger approaching. The car is between dad and the scary men, but they’re getting closer.
I pull on the handle. I need to get out. I need to warn my dad.
The door still doesn’t open.
“Dad!” I scream.
He doesn’t hear me. My eyes bounce back and forth between my dad and the gunmen.
“Dad!” I scream again.
Henry asks me what’s wrong, he apparently hasn’t seen the bad guys, but there’s no time to explain.
I start to scramble across the seat. I can get out using my dad’s door. But that’s when the gunfire starts.
It doesn’t sound like the movies. It’s louder. Harsher. The bangs seem impossibly close.
The rear window breaks into a million pieces, showering me in glass.
I open my mouth to scream for my dad…
30 years. 30 fucking years of this dream. This memory. And I always wake up at the same exact spot. A second before I witness a bullet slamming into my father’s chest. Two seconds before I curl up on the floor in the backseat of the family car. Five seconds before Henry slumps over the steering wheel, blood dripping down what’s left of the windshield.
At least with all these years of practice, I no longer wake on a scream. Instead, I wake on a deep exhale. The pain is less now and the dream itself has become rare. But when it decides to appear in the dark of night, it still claws at my throat. Fuck.
I take a deep inhale and breathe in the scent of her. Sasha. Talk about a mind fuck. One night. Just a few hours. And she’s already seeped into the cracks of my soul. I don’t know what it is exactly about that woman, but I’m drawn to her. It could be her beauty. Her shiny chestnut hair that I want wrapped around my fist. Her mouthwatering curves. Her blushing cheeks. Her pouty lips. It could be her bravado. Her backbone. Her clever wit. Most likely, it’s all of those things combined into one delectable package. But whatever it is, I want more.
The second I spotted her downstairs I knew I had to approach her. I tried to hold off, to mind my own fucking business. But then I watched, caught off guard, as that fuckwit accosted her. The second he grabbed her; I was on my feet. I don’t put up with shit like that. Not ever. And definitely not with a woman who’s mine. Who felt like mine.
Rage and I are old friends, but it’s been awhile since I’ve felt it so completely. It took all my willpower to hold that man still and not rip him apart with my bare hands. I wanted him to pay for his actions. I wanted him to hurt. The only thing keeping me in check was the knowledge that my men would take care of him.
It was cute the way Sasha laughed when I said they would break his arms. Of course, she’d think I was joking. But I’m not really a joking kind of guy. And I sure as fuck wasn’t joking tonight. That man’s lucky he got off so easy. Restraint might be one of the traits I inherited from my father, but so is ruthlessness.
I sigh out another exhale thinking of my father. My parents. Sasha hit a cord earlier when she asked about the women in my life. I don’t talk about them often, and I sure as hell don’t mess around when it comes to their safety. I’m as protective as I am possessive of the women that belong to me. And somehow, Sasha automatically fell into that category. I don’t know how a total stranger could wedge her way so firmly into my psyche, but she did.
It doesn’t matter though. One night is all I get with Sasha, and it’s all I h
ave to give. She’s leaving in the morning, and my exit isn’t far behind. I don’t know where home is for her, and I don’t want to know. I don’t need to be tempted into tracking her down. Stalking is not a hobby I have time for.
But her flight isn’t for a few more hours, and that means I can have her one more time. Twice wasn’t enough. And I can’t leave her with the slow fuck we ended on. It was too intimate. Too personal. Too much like making love. If I’m going to get Sasha off my mind, I need to have her one more time. And it needs to be fast. Intense. I need to burn her essence out of my system.
Just thinking about it has me hardening. I’m not a college kid anymore. I don’t even remember the last time I fucked three times in one night. But I don’t plan to forget tonight. I’m going to sear this memory into my brain. Savor it for my nights alone. Sasha’s so responsive. It’s like her body was made to fit perfectly with mine. She’s a fucking siren and I’d willingly wade into the darkest waters for one more touch.
Rolling over I reach out for my Sasha. My sweetheart. My temptation.
When my hand lands on empty bedding, my eyes open and I scan the room. Empty. I stay still, listening for a moment. Hoping that she’s still here. But all I’m met with is silence.
She’s gone. I’m alone.
My hands curl into fists. I knew I only had one night with her. I knew she’d be leaving. I accepted that. But she cut our time short. She left before she was supposed to.
Sasha stole that from us. She stole that from me. And she did it without saying a word.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SASHA
“U
gh, Sasha, you lucky bitch!” Jessica says, bouncing through the doorway.
I laugh. “Dramatic much?”
“What? I’m not being dramatic. I mean, look at this office!” She does a twirl, her hands hitting the wall.
My office is so small Jessica’s attempt at showing off only shows how cramped it is.
“Yeah, so glam,” I droll.
