by S. J. Tilly
A shiver runs down my spine. That creepy feeling I kept getting on the street… Someone was watching me.
Vincent turns his ire onto the two security guys I don’t know. “This will not fucking happen again. Do you understand me? This piece of shit got into her apartment! He found her and nearly fucking had her! You two will be trading off 12-hour shifts. I don’t want Sasha to go anywhere alone. You’ll stick to her like fucking glue.”
Wait, what? I can’t have bodyguards.
I step closer. “Um, what?”
Vincent ignores me. “I want a car parked outside at all times. Here. The office. Wherever. No more walking. Angelo, clear it with the building. If they give you any shit, I’ll just buy the goddamn building.”
“No, I don’t need…” I try to break into the conversation, but no one hears me.
My fear and shock start to morph into anger. I relish it. Vincent always thinks he can just do whatever he wants. That he can bulldoze his way into my life and toss out demands as he sees fit.
“Actually, fuck the 12-hour shifts.” Vincent turns to the bigger of the two goons. “Eric, I want you with her full-time until Randal is dealt with. Square your shit away because starting tomorrow morning you’re not letting her out of your sight. You’ll go with her to all her meetings, lunches, whatever. I don’t fucking care what it is, you go with. And get her moved to a new office, up on my floor. They’re bigger so you can fit in there with her. and you’ll be closer to me and Angelo.”
“No!” I shout the word, fed up with them pretending like I’m not here. Like this isn’t my life they’re talking about.
Vincent slowly turns to face me. “No?” His ire filling the air between us.
I swallow. “I can’t have a freaking bodyguard.”
“Why the hell not?” He asks, stepping closer.
“Because.” At my lame response he cocks an eyebrow. That does it. I snap. All the insecurity, all the uncertainty comes pouring out. “I can’t have a bodyguard because I have no way to explain it. What am I supposed to say to my coworkers to explain this giant scary man following me around everywhere? How am I supposed to explain that? I tell Cheryl… what? That I got involved with you and now I’m in danger? Tell her that Vincent Mazzanti is providing me with personal security? I can’t explain that. It’s not like we’re even dating. Are we? I’m not actually your girlfriend. I’m not your anything. And I can’t even tell them that we’re just fucking because you’re a client! Or have you forgotten that little detail? If I tell anybody about this I’ll lose my job. And my job is all I have!”
Vincent’s eyes never leave mine and when I finish, I watch his jaw clench as he takes a step towards me. The fire rolling off him has me stepping back.
His voice is low and lethal. “You’re right. I don’t know what the hell we are. I don’t know what to call this. But you? You’re mine. You hear that, sweetheart? You’re fucking mine. And I protect what’s mine. So, find a way to deal with it.”
The way he says mine sends a chill down my spine. And an entirely inappropriate wave of lust tightens my core.
Vincent takes one more step towards me and I step back.
Without breaking eye contact with me he shouts a command to the room. “Get out.”
I don’t dare look away. Like prey watching a predator, I can’t risk losing sight of him. But I hear the exodus.
My breath is coming quicker. I’m not sure where this is going, but we’re almost there.
When the door shuts and the apartment goes quiet, Vincent takes another stalking step towards me.
His voice is low. Dangerously soft. “Don’t ask me to step back. Or step away. Or to explain what the fuck I’m feeling because none of that will happen. But for once, in your stubborn life, just do what I fucking say.”
I take one more step back, bumping into the dining table.
He’s so close to the edge. Teetering. And I want to see him lose control.
Keeping eye contact, I tip my head up in challenge. “Make me.”
His eyes flash with challenge. Then all at once, he detonates.
Vincent moves so quickly; I barely register that he’s closed the distance between us. A growl comes from deep in his chest. My natural instincts cause my hands to fly up. As if that would stop him now. It doesn’t.
With a rough tug on my arm, Vincent spins me around. His grip at the base of my neck shoves me down until I’m bent over my dining room table. My hands land on loose puzzle pieces and slide across the surface. With a large palm between my shoulder blades, Vincent applies pressure until my chest is pressed against the wooden surface.
A smack sounds from behind me, immediately followed by a sharp sting on my butt cheek. I cry out. More from shock than from pain.
Vincent presses himself against my ass and I can feel his cock hardening. When he spanks me again, my thighs clench. I swallow a groan. I’m not supposed to like this.
His breath on the back of my neck distracts me from the burn still warming my behind.
Vincent’s voice comes out as a rumble. “You’re going to do what I tell you to do, sweetheart. Or so help me god, I will smack your ass red until you learn to listen.”
Keeping his hand on my back, holding me still, he reaches down with the other and yanks down on my leggings. I’m still dressed in my yoga clothes, and my pants get caught just below my hips. I’m waiting to feel him reach between my legs, so I yelp when his palm slaps against my now bare skin.
I don’t have time to think about my reaction to being spanked, because I’m pulled under a new wave of sensation when one of Vincent’s long fingers slides straight into my pussy. I’m so turned on, so wet, that there’s no resistance.
“Fuck.” Vincent groans. “You’re fucking soaked.”
His finger slides out and I let out a sound that can only be described as a whine.
When I hear the sound of a zipper, my whine turns into a plea.
I try to lean back into him, but his hand on my back just presses me harder into the table.
I feel the tip of his cock to rub against my entrance. “Vincent.” I whisper his name.
“Say you’re mine.” He barks.
“Please.” I moan in response.
He slaps my ass again over my disobedience. The tingling is almost too much to handle.
“Say you’re mine!”
“I’m yo…”
My declaration gets cut off as he thrusts into me. His full length filling me in one quick motion. We both shout out at the intensity. My pussy clenching around him so hard I feel like I might come any second.
“Say it.” His voice is strained but he doesn’t wait before he starts pounding into me.
“I’m yours.” I pant. “I’m yours, Vincent. All... yours.”
His hand on my back slips around to my throat. With just the right amount of pressure, he pulls me to standing. His hips never stop their unforgiving pace. The sound of skin on skin. The feel of his hips striking my ass with each thrust. The hard length of him pulling nearly all the way out each time. It’s too much. My vision is hazy. My pleasure reaches an all-time high that I’m almost afraid to fall from.
Vincent’s free hand drags around my side and down my belly to find my clit. Circling it. But not touching me where I need him.
“Tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll do what I say. Tell me and I’ll let you come.”
Holy. Shit.
My knees start shaking. This Vincent is the Devil I’ve always imagined him to be. And I fucking love it.
Arching into him, I admit the truth. “I’d do anything for you.”
“That’s right, Sweetheart. Now let me feel you come on my bare cock.”
Vincent’s teeth bite down on my neck the moment his fingers pinch my clit. I explode. The admission that he’s not using a condom somehow makes me come even harder.
With my body shaking, Vincent’s hand leaves my throat and his arm circles around my chest. Holding me up as he slams into me once more.
The groan that leaves him vibrates through my body, stretching out the orgasm that’s still rolling through me.
Holding me in place, we somehow stay standing. Vincent wrapped around me, still inside me. His release running down my thighs.
“You’re staying with me tonight.” Vincent says with his mouth against my neck. “You’re getting a bodyguard.”
With a swallow to settle my pulse, I whisper, “Okay.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
SASHA
“S
asha!” Annie’s excited greeting welcomes me as we enter Vincent’s apartment.
The ride over here was just long enough for the last of the fight to drain out of me, and for my rational brain to fully recognize the danger I was in. I had halfheartedly listened to Vincent as he spent the drive on the phone discussing me, my safety, and the details of my break-in, but after a few minutes I tuned him out. I didn’t need any reminders about what happened and how close I’d come to harm.
I already know that I’ll picture that creepy man every time I shut my eyes. I don’t want to think about how he was in my bedroom, probably touching my things. I couldn’t even get myself to go into my room alone to pack my bag. I made Vincent come with me.
While packing I had suddenly realized that I couldn’t leave Captain alone in the apartment. It’s one thing for me to leave him home alone to chill for a night but having a crew of strangers in my apartment setting up a new security system would probably give him anxiety. Luckily, my 80-year-old neighbor Mrs. Peterson was home, and she’s always willing to watch Captain if I have to go out of town. I think she was extra willing tonight, since she stood slack jawed staring at Vincent while he carried Captain’s things into her apartment. Vincent had looked angry, recently fucked, and hot as hell. The wink she gave me before closing her door told me she agreed.
Ugh, Vincent. My Devil in Shining Armor. I know he’s right. It’s shockingly clear that I need the protection. I just have to accept it. Accept him. With how much I now know about his past, I should be more understanding. Yeah - he acted like a total caveman, but he has a good reason. First Randal tried to take Annie, and now Randal’s broken into my apartment. To take me or hurt me, I don’t know. But I’m sure this is giving Vincent all sorts of flashbacks. Tonight was yet another close call. Another person in his life, targeted by the brother of his dead baby mama. Only this time Vincent didn’t get to chase off the bad guy himself. He wasn’t even there.
I haven’t asked how he found out about the break-in. I probably don’t want to know. Since he showed up less than an hour after the police did, I’m guessing he either had someone watching me or someone monitoring the police. It might be nudging him into stalker territory, but I’m too grateful for his presence to be worried about that.
Even now, a couple hours after the actual incident, he still hasn’t settled down. I’m sure that most of the worry he’s feeling is directed at his daughter. This break in proves that Randal is closer than anyone thought. That he hasn’t given up his obsession.
“Hi Annie.” I say with a genuine smile, walking towards the kitchen where she’s perched at the island. “How’ve you been feeling?”
She shrugs. “Fine. The cramps are mostly gone now.” She glances over to Vincent, who’s still talking quietly on the phone. “Dad keeps treating me like I’m dying. It’s not like I’m sick, it’s just puberty.”
She rolls her eyes and a laugh bubbles out of me. “Men are like that. They don’t know what to do with us most of the time anyway, but add in period talk and they lose all common sense.”
“So true.” She agrees. “Are you here for dinner?”
Oh, right. I’m not sure what Vincent wants me to say about why I’m here. Why I’m staying over on a random weeknight. We didn’t discuss it.
“Yeah, Princess.” Vincent says, saving me from answering. “Sasha will be staying here tonight. They’re putting a new security system in her apartment, so she had to clear out for the night.”
He pulls Annie into a hug. This is more than the normal hug you’d give your child in greeting. Vincent is clearly soothing himself, embracing his daughter, making sure she’s real.. That she’s safe. I should look away, but I don’t.
Annie starts to squirm, trying to push out of his reach. “Oh my god, dad. Get a grip.”
“I am.” He chuckles, rocking her back and forth.
“Help!” Annie fake pleads.
“Vincent, release my granddaughter before you crush her.” Marie’s voice startles me and my whole body jolts. My reaction doesn’t go unnoticed, and I see the frown that passes over her face. “I’m sorry dear, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
Before I can play it off, she’s pulling me into an embrace. Marie’s about my height with a slender build. Her black hair is streaked with grey and the arms around me are filled with the Mazzanti strength I’m becoming familiar with. We’ve only met briefly once before, in this same kitchen, during my walk of shame, but I don’t fight the hug. Instead, I wrap my arms around her in return. Leaning in as though it isn’t totally weird for me to cling to Vincent’s mom.
Her embrace is so maternal. So welcoming. So motherly, that a sudden wave of emotion swamps me. Even if I tried to fight the tears building in my eyes, I wouldn’t be successful, so I don’t bother. I let them out.
She must feel the tremor run through my body because she squeezes me tighter. “It’s okay, dear. Let it out.” She whispers.
I haven’t had a hug from a mother figure since my mom died. I know she’s not mine to keep, but her touch is so open. She’s so accepting. It makes my throat tighten up even more.
This round of crying isn’t the sobbing mess I treated Vincent to. This time my tears are more subdued. More sad. But the action is still cathartic, and I get control of myself after just a few moments.
“I’m sorry.” I apologize embarrassingly. “You and Annie seem to have a spell over me. Being near you guys makes me miss my mom more than normal.”
With that admission, Marie gives her own little sniff in response.
As we pull away, wiping at our eyes, I hear Annie mumbling from across the kitchen. “What is wrong with everyone today?”
Her bewildered expression is enough to break the tension brewing in the air.
“Nothing. Nothing.” Marie says with a wave of her hand. “The lasagna is almost done. Why don’t we set the table and eat like civilized humans for once?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
SASHA
“C
an we watch a movie?” Annie asks her dad, blinking her eyes innocently.
Vincent glances at the clock. “Pick a TV show instead. It’s getting late.”
Annie huffs but still agrees and I watch her walk to the living area where she drops into one of the large armchairs.
Dinner with Vincent and his family was so much more wonderful than I imagined it could be. Clearly Marie knew the story behind why I was there, and she did a great job of carrying the conversation. She took her leave after dinner, but - seeing the three of them together - I felt like I got a view of Vincent’s home life for the past 11 years. And I understand now, more than ever, why he kept his family so secret. Why he did his best to keep people, women, hook-ups, away from his home. Away from his daughter.
And even though he can’t exactly verbalize how he feels about me, I’m starting to realize that he really does care. He’s been pretty shitty at showing it, but the fact that he’s letting me see this side of him says a lot. Perhaps it’s possible, maybe, that he cares about me as much as I care about him.
Vincent’s warm palm on my back has my eyes refocusing on the room in front of me. “Come watch some ridiculous TV with us. It’ll help you unwind.”
I nod.
I was pretty quiet throughout our meal, and Annie gave me more than one sideways glance. So if I hid away in Vincent’s room it would only call more attention to my morose mood.
With Annie sprawled out in one of the armchairs,
I claim one corner of the couch. The TV is already on, the opening scene of a sitcom I don’t recognize playing on the screen.
Leaning my head on the armrest, I watch the show with one ear listening to Vincent as he walks around the apartment, turning off most of the lights. The sound of ice striking glass has my mind wandering to the first time I was here. The pink tennis shoes. The realization that Vincent was so much more than I originally thought. The bedroom. The icy cold kisses. The night spent calling out his name.
“Share with me.” Vincent’s voice warns me of his presence a moment before I feel the couch dip beside me.
He’s left no space between us. And as I sit up to take the glass from his hands, our sides press into each other. Thankfully, he’s added something that tastes like ginger ale to the alcohol this time. I take a second sip. Then a third. Vincent uses his arm around me to guide my head onto his shoulder before he takes the glass back, downing the rest of the drink.
The press of Vincent’s lips to my temple is the last thing I feel before I fall asleep.
CHAPTER FORTY
SASHA
M y ringtone cuts into my dream, and I’ve never been more grateful.
I’d been stuck, still and silent, standing in my hallway. Unable to move as Nightmare Randal slowly approached. Only - instead of empty hands - he had an armful of hissing cats. I blink away the image as the ringing continues.
I try to roll towards the sound, but a strong arm around my waist holds me in place.
“Leave it.” Vincent’s voice murmurs into my ear. Even with the nightmare nipping at my heels, the sound of his voice sends heat throughout my body.
I don’t remember coming to bed. I remember the couch. The drink. And then nothing. With a small wiggle I feel that I’m still in the yoga pants and sweater I changed into before coming to Vincent’s. At least I wore something comfortable last night, so he wasn’t forced to strip my unconscious form.
