by Jagger Cole
Hunger. That’s how I’m going to break down those damn walls of hers. It takes most of the day. But finally, she breaks.
“I’m starving.”
I look up and grin at her proclamation. “Dinner?”
She looks away from me. Avoiding my eyes. “Whatever. Sure, I guess.”
“Just whatever?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
I smirk. “You can even have some wine.”
She whips her head around, grinning. “Really?!”
I smile. “Nope.”
9
Bellamy
Two years ago:
“Oh my God, he is hot!”
I jump and turn around. Celeste, my roommate, is looking at my laptop screen over my shoulder.
“Huh?”
“Who the hell is that?”
I don’t have to look to know who she’s talking about. I’m looking at a picture of Vincent. My dad’s just thrown a retirement party for one of his guys. We still talk in code, but I know what “one of his guys” means. He sent me an email with pictures of him and some people I know from growing up—lots of “uncle so and so”s and that sort of thing. And of course, Vincent.
“Hello? Melissa?”
“Oh, that’s just Vincent.”
“‘Just Vincent’?” She smirks. “There’s no ‘just’ about him.”
I blush.
“Who is he?”
“Just someone who works for my dad.”
“Is he a model?”
I laugh. “No, he’s… no. But I have no idea what he does now.” I sigh. “He was my bodyguard when I was younger.”
She blanches. “You’re joking.”
I shake my head.
“That guy was guarding your body?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that. He’s just Vincent. He’s like an uncle or something.”
She frowns. “Oh, he’s your uncle?”
“No!” I catch myself quickly. “No. I mean we’re not related. It’s just that sort of relationship.”
She grins. “You little slut.”
I frown. “What?”
“I knew you weren’t such a prude!”
I blush deeply. “Oh, no-no-no. No, not like that.”
“Oh, sure,” my roommate says sarcastically.
“Celeste, no,” I say louder. “It’s not like that!”
She finally shrugs. “Okay, okay. Calm down. Jeez.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“Does he visit?”
“What, here?”
“Yeah.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Well, can he?”
I laugh. “Why?”
“So I can fuck his brains out?”
My smile fades to rage, quickly. “He’s never coming here,” I snap. I turn back to the screen, bristling with rage.
Celeste is seemingly unaware of the fury she’s awoken inside of me. “Oh, well that sucks. Can I get his number?”
“No!”
Present:
“How is it?”
I shrug. “Fine.”
Okay, it’s fucking delicious. It’s just pasta, but holy crap. It’s amazing pasta. And the sauce… shit.
“Just fine, hmm?”
I do my best to hide the smile. “Okay, it’s more than fine I guess.”
“Tough crowd.”
I grin. I look up and he’s looking at me.
“Are we done avoiding each other?”
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” I frown.
Vincent stares at me, making me blush.
“Want me to apologize for what happened last night again?”
I shake my head. “No.” Definitely not. Not at all, I think to myself. “No apology needed,” I say out loud.
“Well okay then.”
“How about a replay?” I grin.
He looks up sharply. His eyes look hard. “Bellamy,” he growls with a warning tone.
“Oh I’m just kidding, lighten up,” I giggle. Vincent glares at me. “How is it?” I mumble in a deep voice, imitating him.
“Is that supposed to be me?”
“Obviously.”
“Not bad.”
I laugh. Then I go back to stuffing my face with the delicious dinner he’s made. But the wheels in my head keep turning. I slowly put my fork down and look at him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Is it about last night?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Then yes.”
I nod, looking for the words. “What do you do for my dad now?”
Vincent frowns. “Stuff.”
“Bodyguard stuff?”
“You’re an only child. Mercifully.”
I laugh. “No, but for like, I don’t know, my dad? Someone else?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing, Bellamy.”
“Oh fuck off!”
His eyes snap to mine. He growls. “Watch it.”
“I’m nineteen, Vincent. I can swear.”
He glares at me.
“Look, I know you watched over me when I was young. But I’m an adult now, you know.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Are you?”
“Quite,” he hisses.
I tremble. “So tell me. I can take it.”
“Fine,” he finally snaps. “You want to be a big grown up and discuss grown up things?”
“Yes, I do—”
“I kill people.” I go silent. Vincent clenches his jaw. “That’s what I do, Bellamy. I kill people.”
“Like, a lot—”
“A lot of people,” he says quietly. “I kill a lot of people.”
I nod, my pulse quickens. I’ve always known Vincent was, well, he works for my father. I know what he is. He’s also a gentle giant, but I know he’s capable of things like that. Just maybe not quite this.
Vincent looks at his empty plate and mine. “Still hungry?” I shake my head in silence. “Great,” he growls. He stands and take our plates into the kitchen. I follow, watching him as he rinses them and puts them in the dishwasher.
“I mean, how many…”
Vincent growls quietly and turns. “You want to be an adult?” he growls. “Well this is it. I kill a lot of people, Bellamy.”
I nod silently. He looks at me intensely, in a way he’s never looked at me before.
“Does that scare you?”
“No,” I say quickly.
“Bellamy…”
I take a breath. “No,” I answer honestly.
“It should. I should scare you,” he says gently.
“You could never scare me.”
Vincent looks away. He turns back to me. “Not even after last night?”
I blush. But it makes me think. Does he still think I’m mad at him? Disgusted? I have to remind myself that he’s not actually a mind reader. Vincent doesn’t actually know that what I saw last night was the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I slowly raise my eyes to his. “What were you thinking about?”
Vincent stiffens. “Enough of that, Bellamy.”
“No, I want to know.”
“Drop it,” he hisses.
“Was it me?”
“Bellamy,” he growls. “Enough.”
“Which is it?” I snap. “Am I an adult or aren’t I, Vincent?”
His eyes pierce mine. “Yes,” he snarls through clenched teeth. His shoulders are bunched and his hands close into fists on the counter.
“To which,” I say breathlessly.
“Yes, you’re an adult.”
“And the other?”
“And yes,” he suddenly growls. His face is lined. His eyes harden as they burn into me.
“Yes what?” I whisper.
“Yes, Bellamy,” he chokes. “I was thinking of you.”
He strides towards me. I gasp, locked in place and unable to move. His big hands raise, cupping my face. He glares down into my eyes
, towering over me. He moves closer, and I whimper when I realize I’m enveloped in his arms against his chest.
“Yes,” he hisses. He leans down, and his lips press to mine fiercely, kissing me. Not a CPR kiss. A real kiss.
The first kiss.
10
Vincent
One year ago:
“Oh my God, I love this car!”
“Thanks.”
Carla giggles for no real reason. “God, I love a man with a nice car.”
I smile at her again and keep driving. Dinner was fine. It was nice to go out, I suppose. But this is over before it begins. Nico, Micheals top guy, set this up. He said Micheal thought I needed to clear my head. And I’m on an “off” streak with my disastrous and toxic on-and-off-again relationship with Kelly. So, I got set up on a blind date.
But they’re wrong. My head is fine. But I can see why Micheal thinks I needed this. I did kill six people last Thursday: three with my bare hands when I ran out of bullets. It was supposed to be two, but the four others showed up and had to be dealt with. Apparently, even for Micheal, that’s a traumatic experience.
So, I got set up with Carla. Blonde, big tits falling out of her top, skirt too short Carla. Complete with a tramp stamp tattoo of a tribal heart. In locker room talk, guys would call her a “sure thing.” To me, she’s just a thing I don’t want. Today, especially.
“I had a nice time,” Carla purrs.
“Yeah, me too,” I smile. I’m a monster, but I’m a gentleman when I should be. I’m taking her home, to her own house. And I’m not staying there, either. But I can let her down nicely.
“You wanna come up when we get to my place?”
Yeah, there it is. I smile. “You know what? I got work in the morning.”
“Aww, that’s no fun.”
“It is what it is.”
“Well, how about some fun before we get there?” Her hand lands on my thigh. I frown. That’s not at all what I meant.
On a good day, Carla would not be what I want. For years, I’m not even sure I knew what I wanted. I just didn’t date. I didn’t sleep with women. I had no time, and no desire to. Kelly was something, I guess. Except I don’t even think we like each other. When we’re together, we fight almost more than when we’re split.
The truth is, I don’t know what the fuck I want. It’s like I’m waiting for it to jump out and let me know. But so far, it’s not telling me shit. But I do know, I don’t want Carla. And not like this for sure.
She slides her hand higher, but I stop her. “Gotta watch the road, Carla.”
“Well then you watch the road, and I can put my mouth all over your fat cock while you do.”
I grit my teeth. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Oh, live a little!” I gun the engine, making her gasp. “Ooh, go fast baby!” She reaches for my dick again. I stop her once again.
“I said stop.”
“Well we’re almost to my place anyways.”
“Good.” I pull around a corner and push her hand away.
She frowns. “What the fuck, Vincent?”
“I just said stop is all.”
“Yeah but why? I just told you I want to suck your dick. What guy says no to that?”
“Me,” I grunt. I’m getting tired of this entire thing.
“Are you into guys? I mean, if you are, that’s cool, just tell—”
“I’ve just had a rough day and a rougher week. And I have a big day tomorrow.”
She nods in silence. I pull up to her apartment building. Carla turns to me.
“You know what I think?”
I look out my window. I’m bored of this exchange, and I want to go home.
“What’s that?”
Her hand lands on my crotch. “I think you need to let off some steam.”
“Carla…”
She pulls at my zipper. “Let me just…”
“Enough!” I shove her hand away. This time, she looks pissed.
“What the fuck, Vincent? Look if you’re a fucking homo, just fucking tell people!”
“Goodnight, Carla.”
“Fuck you.” She gets out and then slams the door. I rev the engine and drive off. I don’t know what the fuck I want. But I better fucking find it soon, before I go insane.
Present:
It’s happening like a hurricane, and I can’t stand against the winds anymore. I don’t want to. I’m weary and worn down from fighting it. And I won’t anymore. I kiss her like a kiss is supposed to be. Like a man laying claim to the woman that’s his. Like I’m marking her with bruises on her mouth.
She tastes fucking sweet, too. Soft, full, wet lips. Her warm breath. Her gentle moan. I growl and pull her tighter against my chest. I push her back, almost tackling her to the ground before she slams against the big subzero fridge. I kiss her deeply, growling into her mouth. Her hands grip my shirt, and she moans.
“Fuck,” she gasps. And it’s all over. No more holding back.
I kiss her, and Bellamy kisses me right back. We gasp and moan into each other’s mouth. It’s like this is a routine we’ve done a million times. And yet it’s all brand new. My hand squeezes her ribs. Fuck, she so goddamn soft and curvy in all the right places.
My cock surges against her, thick and hard against her tummy. She knows what she’s feeling. She saw it; she has the visual of the thickness against her skin right now. Bellamy only kisses me harder though.
“I want you, Vincent,” she whimpers in a trembling voice. I’ve heard it in my dreams. But I’m not dreaming right now. I’m wide fucking awake.
I kiss her even harder, and my hand slides over her waist. I tease a finger over the loose hem of her cotton shorts. My hand slips under and my fingertips brush the lace of her panties. Her body trembles, and I feel her tummy tighten and cave under my touch.
I groan. I’m so close. I’m so close I can almost feel the heat of her pussy; so close that I can almost smell her arousal. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting her.
I’ll be the first. I growl at the thought as I kiss her. No one else has tasted her or touched her. Or fucked her. Madness and lust overtake me. I push a hand lower, teasing under her panties and feeling smooth, warm skin.
My cock throbs, and suddenly, Bellamy gasps deeply into my mouth. It’s like a slap to the face It’s a wakeup. She’s never done this. And what the actual fuck am I doing?
I pull my hand away quickly, as if I’ve been burned. My mouth leaves her, and I back away, horrified with myself.
“Wait, Vincent,” she looks scared and confused.
“The fuck am I doing,” I choke out loud. I shake my head. My eyes find hers. “What the hell am I doing?”
“I want this,” she pleads breathlessly.
“You don’t know what you want,” I growl.
“The fuck I don’t!”
“Watch your—”
Bellamy grabs me and pulls me hard against her. She kisses me, and I groan. I give in for a moment to taste those pillow soft lips. But then I pull away again.
“Fucking hell, Bellamy!” I growl.
“Language,” she sneers with a smirk.
I shake my head. “No games. And we are not doing this.”
“Vincent…”
“No, baby,” I say gently. “No. It can’t be me, and you’re confused. There’s no way it can be me.”
“Wait, Vincent…”
“This is fucking wrong, Bellamy,” I groan. I turn away. I need to get a bottle of booze, lock myself in my room, and pray to God Micheal never finds out about—
A hand grabs my wrist. I turn, and she yanks me back, hard.
“Don’t you walk away from me,” she hisses.
“Trust me,” I snarl. “You want me to walk away.”
“No, I—”
“You’ve seen the best of me,” I growl quietly. “Bellamy, you’ve only ever seen the best of me, because that’s what you bring out in me.” My eyes turn hard. “I am not a good man, Bellamy.”
“No!” I roar, startling her. “No, I’m not. I murder people.”
“It’s your job…”
“A bank teller is a job,” I snap. “Selling tires is a job. This is a corruption of the soul.”
“It doesn’t scare me,” she says defiantly.
“It should.”
“Well it doesn’t.” Her fingers grip my shirt harder. “I know what I want, Vincent.”
“You don’t.”
“Yes, I fucking do!” She yanks me down, and our lips crash together again. I groan. This time, I can’t let go. I can’t walk away, not now. I grab her and slam her into the counter. My hands grip her tight, and I pull her up into my arms.
Bellamy moans and kisses me. I’m running on pure adrenaline and desire. I’m off the rails. I’m crashing, and I can’t stop. There’s no stopping me, or this, now.
I storm through the house carrying her. There are million places I could set her down and take it all. The couch, the floor, the stairs. But I want her in a bed. This is happening. There’s no denying that, and there’s no stopping it. This might be wrong and fucked up. But it’s happening. And when it does, it’ll be in a bed.
We crash into her bedroom. Bellamy moans, and I push her down on the bed. I crawl over her, kissing her madly. My hands grip her hips possessively. It’s like I’m simultaneously pushing her into the mattress and pulling her up against my body. I’m so fucking hard, and I can feel the hot warmth between her thighs—her eager little pussy wanting what I want.
I kiss down her neck. Bellamy gasps when my hands push her shirt up. They touch bare, soft skin. I growl. She’s not wearing a bra. I run my mouth over her tits, centering on a dusky nipple. I suck it between my lips, and Bellamy moans in pleasure.
“Oh God, Vincent!” she gasps. “Vincent!” She’s tugging at my shirt. I pull up to look at her. “I’ve—I’ve never…”
“I know,” I say gently.
“None of it.”
“I know.”
She blushes hotly. “No, I mean…”
“Bellamy,” I whisper. I move over her and lean down, kissing her softy. “I know.” She nods. “Do you want to stop?”
Her eyes spark. “Fuck no.” Bellamy yanks me down and kisses me hard. I growl against her lips. Her legs spread wide and wrap around my hips. I move from her mouth and slide back to her tits. I push her shirt the rest of the way up, and she pulls it off herself.
