Then suddenly I was flipped. His weight pinned me to the mattress.
He grabbed my face. Kissed me hard. Like he couldn’t breathe without it.
His hands were all over me. My heart was pounding like crazy.
"Vinny—" I tried, but it was useless. He wasn’t hearing me.
“Please, Sophia, I need you.”
Then his thumb brushed my cheek—so damn gentle I folded. He was a man drowning, and I was the only warm skin and heartbeat left in his fucked-up world.
I let him do what he wanted. Let his tongue trace the seam of my lips.
I detached myself from the situation even though my pussy was soaked, aching, betraying me.
He used his knee to push my legs apart.
I froze for half a second, then took control of the moment before this situation could twist into something I couldn’t come back from.
The fabric of his boxers had been replaced by hot skin. How the fuck had he taken them off without me noticing?
He nipped my chin with his teeth. I whimpered.
His thick dick slicked itself between my wet folds. My juices were oozing from me, coating his shaft as he rutted against my slick pussy like a man possessed. I was dripping for him, shame and heat twisting together in my gut.
Instead of letting him push into me, I wrapped my hand around his dick. It felt thick and hot and heavy, already slick with precum leaking from the head. I stroked him slow, teasing the swollen tip with my thumb, squeezing just right. He let out a broken moan forher.
His mouth smashed against mine, pushing his tongue deep, fucking my mouth like he was trying to claim every inch of me. I sucked his tongue and kissed him back like it was myresponsibility to make him feel good enough to forget his grief. His hips jerked hard. His whole body tightened up like a wire about to snap.
"Fuck, I love you... Sophia," he groaned, burying his face against my neck as he came hard in my hand, thick ropes of hot cum spilling over my fingers, my stomach, marking me with his grief and obsession.
A second later, he slumped. And he was out. Just like that. Like nothing ever happened.
I stared at him for a second, still catching my breath. My hand sticky with his cum, my lips swollen, my chest tight with something I didn’t want to name.
I shoved him over.
I slipped out of bed quietly. In the bathroom, I scrubbed my hands raw in the sink, but the smell of him—his sweat, his cum, his pain—stuck to my skin like a brand. Giving up, I went back into the bedroom, grabbed one of his shirts from the closet. Suddenly being nude around him didn’t feel right. It felt too vulnerable. Too exposed.
I made my way to the living room without glancing at him. The couch springs groaned under me. I curled up on the sofa with the throw blanket pulled damn near over my head.
Somewhere in the dark, a clock ticked.
I didn’t cry, though for a fucked up reason, the tears were burning right behind my eyes. I didn’t sleep, either. I just laid there in the cold, staring into the shadows, wondering how in the hell I got here and what it would feel like to have a man love you that deep—even in his sleep.
Chapter thirteen — Vinny
I opened my eyes.
The sheets still smelled like her skin. My dick lay sticky against my thigh, and there was a heavy, suffocating ache in my chest that hadn't been there the night before—a raw longing. I had been dreaming of Sophia, but it wasn’t Sophia who had touched me.
Fuck.
Guilt coiled tight and heavy in my gut. I shouldn’t have drunk. I should've never let her into my bed. I knew better. I wanted her too damn much—had wanted her from the literal moment I broke into that apartment. Where the fuck did we go from here?
I lay there for a second, just breathing, trying to slow the chaotic race of my thoughts. But there wasn’t much point. I sat up slowly. Through the heavy silence of the apartment, I could hear the scrape of pots and catch the rich, salty scent of bacon.
She was cooking again. Probably naked again.
