This 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.
