Page 26 of Heartless Sinner
Then he lifted his head to stare down at me, his jaw clenched tight as all that restraint dissipated as he withdrew to the head of his cock, then slammed back into me. I cried out again, heat and pleasure sparking through my entire body. I hadn’t had sex in years, and my own hand and a few toys weren’t nearly the same thing as an actual dick inside of me, a real man over me, pressing me down into the mattress and forcing me to take his cock again and again.
He was relentless, wild and uncivilized, fucking me like a bad girl who needed to be punished, just like he’d said, and I loved the entire fantasy of it. I wrapped my legs around his waist, which drove him even deeper into me, and my whole body arched, a high-pitched moan that I barely recognized as mine escaping from me.
“Fuck, yes.” Vince’s voice was a harsh, guttural growl against my throat, his thick hair brushing softly against my skin. “Love to hear your moans, sweetheart.”
I shivered, then whimpered as he thrust into me once more. He was so deep, it felt like I could feel his cock in my throat, and I couldn’t stop making obscene noises. I would have been embarrassed, if it wasn’t spurring Vince on, making him fuck me harder, faster, and that only made my cries louder.
It was a feedback loop of insane, intense bliss.
The tiny part of my brain that remained rational worried that I would become addicted to this level of pleasure. The rest of me didn’t care.
His rhythm didn’t falter for even a moment. He kept pounding into me at that same deep angle, and I could feel my orgasm building in my core, making my legs shake until the ecstasy completely consumed me. My internal muscles rippled and squeezed tight around his cock which only made it all so much more intense, my whole body melting with ecstasy.
I felt like I couldn’t even see properly, my vision a blur. My ears rang, my blood buzzed.
I’d never come that hard before in my life—and I was still climaxing.
Because Vince hadn’t… fucking… stopped. He was still drilling into me with powerful, heavy strokes, and that prolonged my orgasm, stretching it out like hot, decadent taffy.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled, staring down into my face, the jerk of his hips finally faltering. “You’re so fucking hot when you come, sweetheart—fuck, I want to keep you in bed all fucking week—”
He thrust again, hard and erratic, and I could feel him coming as his entire body tensed up and a litany of curse words filled the air. His hips ground against mine as he moved his cock in little circular motions that dragged him right up against that perfect spot inside of me and I felt another pulse of orgasm.
I let out a weak moan, panting.
God it was so good. I felt like I could see stars.
“I’d let you keep me in bed all week,” I managed to blurt out in response to his comment.
It was irrational, I knew that, with our current situation. But I wanted to stay in bed with him for a week. Wanted to experience and explore all the pleasure he could wring out of my body in that time.
Vince chuckled and slid out of me—the condom was tied off and tossed into a small trash can beside the bed—and then he was kissing me, slow and deep, stroking his tongue against mine. I whimpered, feeling like molasses, and I lazily, instinctively, wrapped my arms around his neck as if we’d done this a million times before.
He kept kissing me, like he was savoring me, and that made me feel… like cotton candy inside of my chest. I’d never had a partner that wanted to really touch me after sex. To be fair, I’d only really had a few one night stands or flings, nothing serious. Anything that had tried to maybe become something more had been burned to the ground by my overzealous family members.
But still, post sex had always been the time for the guy to roll away, clean up, and then I would get the hell out of dodge before things got awkward. I always went over to the guy’s place—no way would I risk him running into my brothers stopping by for a visit—and I’d always been able to feel their desire for me to leave.
Which had been fine, just… a bit lonely, when I’d always hoped to find someone who would want more.
Now Vince was kissing me and touching me just as I’d always hoped, and I felt like I was floating. It was almost too good.
Of course he wants intimacy with you, the back of my mind whispered to me. You’re going to marry him. Might as well get cozy and enjoy the perk.
Sometimes I hated the cynical part of myself, but right now, hating it didn’t matter. I needed that voice to remind me that I was in danger—danger of falling for this man. I couldn’t trick myself into thinking that Vincent Russo could really love me. I was a solid political move. I’d proven that to him myself when I’d told him why all those other women wouldn’t be a good fit for him.
This was just… a higher standard of a fling, I told myself, and falling in love with Vince would be the height of stupidity.
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Chapter Thirteen
Vincent
* * *
If I was going to be sleeping with only one person for the rest of my life, I was glad—no, fucking ecstatic—that it was Marla.
The woman was perfection. I could’ve kept fucking her for days. The way she’d woken me up, holy shit. That was going to star in my fantasies for years—except that I wouldn’t need fantasies, would I? I’d have the real thing right there beside me whenever I wanted her.
