I cock my head. “What’s that?”
He doesn’t answer with words. He answers by pressing his much larger lips to mine, his tusks perfectly framing my cheeks. Telling me with a kiss everything he’s been holding back.
Vincent’s mouth is gentle at first, probing as he caresses me. Damn, he’s good at this. His big hand cups the side of my face, tilting me so he can better kiss me.
I melt. I completely, utterly melt, captured by the hopeful sincerity in his lips, in the eagerness and tentative exploration that remind me of being in middle school again. I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck, to bring us even closer together, to squash that distance that’s been building up between us.
Now clutching me tight, Vincent tests theseam of my lips, asking for more. I never thought he’d be the type to ask—just take. When my mouth opens, he teases his way in, and immediately I think of all the times I’ve let other parts of his body inside me this way.
As if in answer, Vincent rubs his hips against me, his cock making itself known at my belly. I return the gesture, telling him just how much I want him, too.
His tongue invades, and this sweet kiss has become a claiming. Hands are all over fabric. I’m tired of wearing this dress, just as I’m tired of his suit getting in the way of feeling his bare skin.
I’ve never seen Vincent without his clothes on, because he’s never done more than lowered his pants. Now, I want to see. I want toknow.
“Vincent,” I say as I pull away from his kiss. He stares down at me with huge, dark pupils. “Where’s your room?”
This time, he does smile. It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s all his, showing his top and bottom teeth and lifting his big tusks to his cheeks.
“This way.” He reaches down, slides his hands under me, and lifts me up easily into his arms. I squeak and throw my hands around his neck,worried that he’s going to drop me, but Vincent just chuckles.
“I won’t let you go.”
“I didn’t say you would.”
“You didn’t need to.”
He leaves the kitchen, easily carrying my weight, and heads up a set of stairs. They’re out in the open, overlooking the living room as we ascend to the second floor. Up here, there’s another recreational room, and Vincent pivots down one of the two hallways.
His bedroom is just as minimalist as the rest of the house, with a white and red comforter and black silk sheets. Much like downstairs, the upstairs window looks out over the river. Here, Vincent sets me on the floor on my feet, turning me toward it.
“Look while I undress you,” he says. I nod, not moving as he investigates the zipper behind my dress, then pulls it down. Once it’s free, he loosens the many straps, sliding them off my shoulders and shuffling the dress down my hips until it’s in a pool on the floor. I’m wearing a black lace bra and panty set underneath. Vincent’s hands whisper along my sides.
“You’re beautiful,” he says into my ear. “I could just eat you.”
I hope he does.
As I look out over the river, his fingers trail up my back to the clip of my bra. He unhooks it deftly, and it drops down my arms. His big hands curl around me from behind, scooping up my breasts to hold them both in his massive palms.
“I’ve been waiting.” He gently strokes my nipples with his thumbs, his clothed front hot against my bare skin. “These are magnificent. Perfect for my hands.”
I have to agree as he pinches one nipple, rolling it back and forth, little shocks erupting from the spot he’s touching me. I twitch and gasp, and Vincent nuzzles the top of my head.
Then one of his hands breaks away, sliding down my belly to the crux of my legs. He slips it down into my underwear, squeezes between my thighs like a heat-seeking missile, and brushes his finger over my soft lower lips.
“Already wet.” He chuckles against my hair. “You like being fucked, don’t you?”
“I really like it.” I swallow. “Especially when it’s by you.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, pressing his finger between my folds and dragging it up to my clit. He applies a lovely, steady pressure as he strokes it, making circles and then passing overit again, and again, until I’m leaning back into his arms and my legs are trembling underneath me.
But this isn’t fair. Why am I almost naked while he gets to keep his clothes on?
I turn around in his arms, forcing him to withdraw his hand. Vincent gives me a quizzical look as I tug on his red tie.
“You next,” I tell him, reaching up to untie it. He allows me to do it, hands on my hips as I pull the tie free and toss it aside. His shirt buttons follow, and it seems like Vincent is holding his breath as I work my way from his collar to his belly, untucking the shirt from his pants. Underneath, his green skin pokes out, and I want to see even more. I slide the suit jacket off his shoulders, and he lets it spill down his arms and onto the floor.
“Shirt,” I insist, and Vincent agreeably plucks the buttons free on each of his wrists before tugging off the shirt, too.
