by Cynthia Dane
Vincent relaxed beneath her tender touch, but did not invite her to continue. Even so, Nala let three of her fingers graze against his skin, lulling him into a welcomed sense of security. His hand loosened its grip on his now empty glass, letting it tumble against the leather. Nala fought the urge to wrap her arms around his shoulders and offer him whatever comfort she could spare. Underneath it all, he’s still a human too. When it came to alpha-type men like Vincent, it was easy to forget that fact.
“She was my soul mate.” The forlorn tone to his voice gutted Nala. “No, you don’t understand. It was deeper than average love. I had thought I was in love before, but then I realized those women didn’t mean half of what Desirée meant to me. When you lose your soul mate, what the fuck do you do? How do you move on from that? You know what they say. You only get one soul mate. That’s the whole point. Whatever. She always told me I was too romantic for my own good.”
Romantic? Almost seemed impossible to see this man as romantic. Vincent was about as romantic as a fish flopping out of water.
“Would you believe me if I told you that… between her death and meeting you, I could count the amount of women I’ve had sex with on one hand?”
“Yeah, I believe you.” Nala would be shocked if it were more than two. Vincent was so sold on the idea that Desirée was his soul mate that it probably felt like cheating on her. Nala had met a few men with that mindset over the years. Lots of the elderly men in her neighborhood growing up had a difficult time moving on as widowers. Even the ones who barely knew how to take care of themselves because their wives had done everything for them. When pressed to find new wives to spend the rest of their days with, they often said it felt too wrong. Too soon.
“The women I met and slept with between then and now were barely human to me. I’m not saying I treated them like animals. I did my best to be gracious and to treat them well, but I could sense that they sensed I wasn’t into it. It felt good. It was relieving to get the sexual tension out of my body. Just because the heart grieves doesn’t mean the loins stop working… as I unfortunately found out.”
Nala sighed, fingernail lightly scratching the skin above his right eyebrow.
“It was all wrong, though. I didn’t feel better after those encounters. I felt worse. Like I was a weak man who couldn’t keep my dick in my pants. It made me wonder terrible things, like if I would have cheated on Desirée during our marriage. I had planned to spend the rest of my life with her. Then she died.”
“Come on. You can’t expect to stay celibate for the rest of your life. Do you think she would have wanted that?” Nala had no idea what Desirée was like, other than good enough to win the eternal love of a man like Vincent. “If you had died, wouldn’t you have wanted her to move on and find love again?”
“Of course. But…”
“And would you really be that upset if you found out she moved on a year after you died? Two years? Three years? Especially at so young of an age?”
“Of course not. It would be normal… I would be happy that she was happy still.”
“Then don’t you think she would say the same thing about you?”
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
Vincent opened his eyes, full of more life than Nala had seen as of late. “That was her. This is me we’re talking about.”
Are you fucking kidding me? Was this a male thing? Or a stupid Vincent Lane ego thing?
Nala stepped away, rounding the couch, heels catching her off balance more than once. These fucking things. But if she were going to exude the confidence she felt inside her bones, she needed to stay on her feet. “I know this is you we’re talking about.” She faced him, still slouching in his seat, but eyes entirely on her. “The only Vincent I know is the man I met a month ago. That man? Has a ton of potential to move the fuck on.”
To prove it, Nala stood before him, steeling herself for any negative reaction as she pulled down her dress zipper and shimmied out of the body-hugging ensemble. It pooled at her feet, revealing a lacy black bra and panty set she purchased the day before. The very same underwear Vincent pulled out of her bag with a laugh. The man wanted me. He wanted to have sex with me right there. He was going to flirt and make us both feel good. Again. Nala would be damned if this man was so up the ass of “soul mates” that he found it impossible to find some sort of happiness three years after the death of his beloved fiancée. It was sweet that he had loved her so much. It was endearing that she would always be in his heart, like Tasha would always be in her sister’s heart, but the man needed to move on.
“Just because you get hard for and enjoy fucking another woman doesn’t mean you’re dishonoring her memory. You’re human, damnit. You’ve got needs, don’t you? You can’t spend the rest of your life jacking off while bitterly thinking of what happened to her.”
He didn’t wince, but he did frown at that image.
Nala kicked her dress away from her, content to stand with her body exposed in lacy lingerie. Oh, look at that. Lo’ and behold, Vincent was starting to stiffen in those nice pants. Point being proven.
“I know you’re mad that you’re attracted to me. I know you want to take it out on me. All that frustration ready to burst in you.” She tugged on his collar, feeling the sweet silk and the way it touched her skin. “You think I mind? I’m not looking for a relationship either, but if there’s a man who makes me feel alive and able to forget my problems for a while… I’m hesitant to say no. Because I would be a total fool to pass that up.”
Nala straddled his lap, not touching him, but so close that she may as well open his zipper and take him right there.
“Do you want me, Vincent? Don’t lie.”
He breathed deeply through his nose, every breath careful and controlled. Too careful. This guy was about two seconds away from throwing Nala on the couch and fucking her until they both ran out of sweet energy. I wouldn’t say no. It was taking Nala every ounce of reserve stored within her to not suggest that right now.
“Yeah,” Vincent grunted, hands hovering over her waist. “I fucking want you.”
Before she could kiss him, his finger appeared before her lips. She kissed his fingerprints before touching anything else.
“But I want Nala. I’ll give in to her tonight.”
Nala braced herself against the back of the couch, her breasts a mere two inches away from his mouth. Are you kidding me? “This might come as a shock to you,” she muttered, undulating her hips against his chest, “but Nala has always been here. This whole time. Like, I’m kinda her.”
Finally, his hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her ass while his mouth slightly parted and eyes fluttered shut. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Nala.”
The kiss did not disappoint. Nala fell right into it, hips rolling in his lap, feeling him awaken between the legs with every gentle thrust. You silly man. Vincent could deny her all he wanted. He could fight his attraction to her, only to be miserable… and for what? A woman who hadn’t been alive in three years? That’s noble and all, but if this man were my fiancée, my first wish after my death would be for him to get some. Perhaps Nala didn’t have the same association with sex that Vincent had. When she heard that her ex was already dating an old mutual friend of theirs, Nala didn’t care. Good for him. Their mutual friend was a nice girl.
Maybe Vincent really was a romantic at heart. A romantic who didn’t know how to let go after life punched him in the heart and loins.
“You deserve to find happiness,” she mumbled on his lips, letting him kiss her harder, harder, tongue penetrating her mouth and hands running up her sides and to her breasts. His hips raised, hardness brushing against her slit. Fuck me, damnit. “I don’t say people deserve anything very often.”
“Shut up.” Vincent’s fingers dug beneath her ass, spreading her thighs apart until a single fingertip touched her beneath her lingerie. Oh my hell. “You talk too much.”
How dare he! Nala took that as a challe
nge, wrapping her hand around the back of his head and pushing her touch against his skull. She bit his bottom lip, dragging it far away from his face until it snapped out of her mouth. The moan falling from both of their throats practically made her wet enough to take whatever he offered. All of it. Offer me everything, Vincent.
“You can’t make me shut up tonight.” She threw her head back as his lowered and immersed itself in her cleavage, tongue snaking against both breasts and searching for a nipple. “If my name is Nala, then you can’t tell me what to do. Not tonight.”
“Fair enough. I’m going to ignore you, though.”
Her fingers felt the slickness of his hair between them as she laughed into the crook of his neck. “Fair enough, indeed.”
He wanted her to be quiet, but he was anything but. Every other breath out of Vincent’s body was some form of her name, whether a whisper, a cry, or something so beyond human that Nala barely recognized it. The farther they went, the more her knees dug into the couch, her thighs lowering to his as his fingers pulled aside her lacy underwear and plunged deep within her.
“Shit!” It felt good. It felt wonderful. It felt like the end of the world come to take her away from the mortal realm. Why does he feel so good? Vincent was the man who showed her it was possible to feel as good as the movies portrayed. Before? Nala thought it was only a lucky few who got to have such powerful lovemaking. The kind that ripped out hearts and brought on knee-shaking orgasms – all from a simple touch of the hand.
Vincent may have been deep within her, wetting his fingers in her essence, but it wasn’t enough to sate a woman as needy as her right now.
“More,” she whimpered in his ear, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders. “Please, Vincent.”
Her hips met the thrusts of his fingers, Vincent’s other hand fumbling with his zipper and struggling to get himself out. Nala was barely coherent enough from the climax wracking her body to see his cock emerge, hard and ready to take her.
She shuddered on his fingers, easing herself off as he wiped his knuckles against her ass. Vincent kissed the mounds of her breasts, still encased in her bra. “I like it when you beg,” he said matter-of-factly. “Be careful, Nala. You think I don’t get to tell you what to do, but if you keep doing this to me, I’ll have no choice but to show you who I really am.”
Dry though her throat was, Nala still found the ability to speak. “Don’t give me any ideas.”
Vincent chuckled, pulling aside her underwear again as his other hand lined his cock up with her opening. “Are you ready for me, darling?”
Darling? That was what he called Nightingale when they were undercover. He claimed to want Nala, not the identity she sank into when trying to make the lies easier to pass. He’s calling me darling… It shouldn’t make her heart flutter, and yet here she was, clinging to his shoulders and continuing to whimper into his throat as he slowly guided the head of his cock into her.
“I’m trying,” she groaned, feeling him struggle to open her enough to take him. Damnit, why is it sometimes so easy, and sometimes so difficult to get this man inside me? It didn’t matter how wet she was. How aroused. What position. Whether he was slow or forceful. Sometimes Vincent slipped right in, and other times were like now, with the head of his cock clearing the way for the rest of him. It hurt, a little. Discomforting. Yet it was also so damn relieving to have him fully inside her, triumph overcoming the both of them. They weren’t quite there yet.
“Relax, Nala,” he whispered into her ear before tasting the outline of it. “Don’t clench up. Not yet. Relax and meet me halfway.”
“I’m…” she was going to reiterate her intention to try, but Vincent had lifted her hips and pulled himself out, too easily. He licked his fingers and ran them along her clit, forcing her body to ready for him again. Her arousal slipped from her nether lips, charging a course down her inner thigh and dripping on the head of his cock. Vincent’s growl of satisfaction as he felt her drip on his skin made Nala even wetter.
“You’ve already ruined your brand new designer panties,” he chastised her. “You’ll probably have to leave them here. Can’t have you wandering home with these things on.”
Nala laughed as she remembered her thoughts about panty sniffing. What a world. “I’ve ruined them because of you.” She didn’t tell him that a simple wash would fix everything. For next time.
“So you have. I better take advantage of this glorious situation.”
“I really don’t know what’s stopping you.”
His satisfied smile turned slightly down. “You, Nala. I need you to relax. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Don’t see how you could.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
She shivered. That might be nice. Really, really rough. That wasn’t about the physical aspect, really. It was about feeling his sheer power claiming her, taming her. I keep thinking those sorts of things. Was she really a woman in need of taming? Maybe only in the bedroom. It was nice to give up control and know that there was at least one man out there who knew exactly what she needed… but not tonight.
“I bet you like it, though,” she teased him, trying her damndest to relax when she knew she was about to have a great lay. “Feeling like the biggest man in the world because little ol’ me is who she is.”
“I don’t take that much credit. You’re tiny.”
“Uh… huh…” Her fingers dug into his shoulders, his cock making an easier way into her now. Holy shit. It never got old. No matter how many times he filled her. No matter how often he took her and became intimately familiar with every curve of her body. This should be illegal. The illicit nature of it would make it even hotter. Forbidden. Held back. Nearly forgotten, until now. That’s what Nala thought about as she pulled herself off him and then eased back down. Amazing how it got easier every time.
“God,” Vincent said, his head resting against the couch and his eyes half closed. “You’re amazing. You know that?”
She gently kissed him, distracted by what happened between her legs. “It takes two. I’ll only take a fraction of the credit.”
“A big fraction, I’m sure.”
“Hey, you’re the math guy.” Nala kissed him all over, from his lips to his cheeks, to his throat, back to his forehead and then all over again. “Fuck me.”
Thank God, he did just that.
Nala wasn’t an easy woman to impress, but not only had Vincent done that more than once, but he did it yet again, lifting himself into her, over and over, unrelenting. Nala held herself as steady as possible against the couch as he had his way with her, using everything he had to take her right where it mattered most.
“Yes!” she cried into his throat, feeling the exquisite way his cock continuously slid in and out of her. Her body accommodated him by stretching around him, inviting him to keep his hold on her while he did whatever he damn well pleased. “Vincent!”
His hands kneaded both sides of her ass as she lifted up and down in his lap, taking his lovemaking as if she had no other choice in the world. I’ve got all the choice. I choose to be here, doing this. That thought made her cling harder to the couch before grabbing his shoulders and holding herself steady over his lap. Just let him do it, girl. The sheer power behind his thrusts was enough to make her whine so loudly that, if Vincent had neighbors and his loft wasn’t so well insulated already, they definitely would have heard.
Her mouth finally meandered to his, tongue penetrating her up top as she was below. Just kill me already! Although she wasn’t bound, gagged, or in any situation that gave her any less power than usual, she found herself unable to do what she wanted – whatever that was. Nala was naturally deferring to Vincent’s whims, letting him control every movement, every moment they shared on his leather couch.
“I’m gonna come,” she murmured between his lips. Nala could feel every spark of an orgasm get ready to fire in her body. “You gonna come with me?”
Nala’s hand landed lightly around his throat, indul
ging in the silk of his shirt and the softness of his skin. She didn’t get a response. Not right away. She was too busy giving herself over to the throes of orgasm, letting it expand like a blast through her. The epicenter was her thighs as they fought to stay as spread as possible.
“Vincent!” Her voice pealed through the loft, fingers scrambling for purchase either on his shoulders or the back of the couch. He continued to pound into her, letting gravity bring his hips down before defying it again with his strength. It prolonged her climax, taking her down, up, down again until she thought she might pass out from exhaustion.
When she finally came down for the last time, it was to the side of his erection, one knee slipping off the couch while the rest of her followed until she lay across his lap, avoiding his cock. Her pants disappeared into the couch beneath her face as Vincent continued to massage her ass and the thighs beneath.
“No,” he growled, hand passing from Nala’s curves and to the erection still springing from his lap. Nala thought he would finish himself off before she had the chance to sit up and use her mouth to bring him to the final moments of his pleasure. As she was about to plead for him to hold off, Vincent reached beneath her and brought her up into his arms. He stood, Nala hoisted over his shoulder as he made for the spiral staircase.
Chapter 6
Although recently sated from their frenzied lovemaking, Nala now looked at the loft below her as they ascended the rounded stairs… and shivered in anticipation. He’s going to throw me down on his bed and consume me. What was once sore and begging to be left alone now woke up again, begging the man who controlled half her destiny to completely have his way with her. As Nala.
Sure enough, the moment they entered his bedroom, Vincent brought Nala back down into his arms and let her land with a hard hit to his bed. It seemed to swallow her, Nala’s body at the mercy of her own energy levels, her desire to feel more of Vincent’s overpowering lovemaking, and…
