Page 22 of Selfish Desires

“I’m fine. Here, come in.” I stepped back, welcoming him into my home.

I ushered him into the living room. The silence rang in my ears as we sat next to each other. He looked at me intently as if trying to decode an unsolvable mystery written all over my face. My eyes darted everywhere, searching for the reason for my actions in the last twenty-four hours. Still, none of it mattered as my gaze honed in on a baffled Stephen, who wouldn’t stop fidgeting with his hands until he shoved them under his muscular thighs.

If I couldn’t mentally push Vincent from my mind, I’d have to tackle my dilemma harder, with raw force. Since my brain failed to rid the incessant thoughts of Vincent from my soul, I’d do the one thing he wouldn’t want me to.

I’d fuck him out of me. And that was exactly what I planned to do. I was going to fuck Stephen.

“So, how was New York?” Stephen asked with a goofy grin.

“Okay, enough talking.” I pivoted my body to face Stephen, bumping our knees, grabbed his face, and crashed my lips against his. My tongue invaded his mouth, not bothering to wait for the invite, and Stephen nearly fell off the couch but stopped himself with his free hand.

Stephen pulled back, breathless and bemused. His blue eyes were wide, with question marks dancing in them and a quickly rising heat. I moved in again, capturing his bottom lip between mine, nipping at the soft skin, and he released a quick yelp but didn’t pull back. His hands came up to rest on my waist, fingertips brushing against the exposed skin at the hem of my shirt, and it felt good even if they weren't the hands I truly wanted on my body. That was why I was doing this. His fingers tracing circles on my skin effectively erased the ghost of Vincent's hands that seemed eternally imprinted there. I yanked off my shirt, ready to keep going as I fought every nerve in my body.

My hand ran through Stephen's hair, tugging at his soft locks until I couldn’t anymore.

“Hey, take it easy there,” Stephen breathed against my open mouth.

Shut up, I thought. Just shut up and use me. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, I threw one leg over his lap, straddling him. He gasped at the swift movement, almost surprised.

“Wow, you’re not wasting any time, are ya?” Stephen’s azure eyes raked my body before settling on my heaving chest. Our gazes locked, and his hands tightened on my thighs before moving to my breasts. I nodded, encouraging Stephen to take my body for his pleasure. For his anything, really. “Wendy, are you sure?” He hesitated with his hands frozen mid-air.

I didn’t need to be sure. I just needed to forget. “Yes, Stephen. I’m sure.”

And then I was pulling his shirt up and over his head, exposing his broad chest and muscular arms as they flexed with each movement, offering the distraction I needed. His fingertips were warm against my skin as they traced the lacy edge of my black bra, a soft gasp slipping past his lips when he unclasped it and bared my chest. The cold air licked my skin, but Stephen's touch invited warmth.

His lips descended onto mine once again, fumbling and unsure but slowly gaining confidence with every second that passed. His touch was different from Vincent’s—less possessive and somehow gentler. His hand slid down my back, trailing goosebumps in its wake as it settled on the curve of my hip, squeezing gently before sliding further down to cup my ass. The sound that escaped me was a mix of surprise and something else—something I wanted him to do. I ground my pussy against his dick but didn’t exactly feel…anything? His erection was probably buried under the heavy fabric of denim. However, his jeans didn’t look that thick.

I was over-thinking this. Of course, he was attracted to me—the constant flirting said so.

“I want you to use me.” I locked my arms behind his neck while rolling my hips against his flat lap.

“What do you mean, use you?” Stephen released a nervous chuckle, breathing heavily.

“I mean just that,” I replied, pressing my lips to his neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as I whispered against his skin, “I want to be your fucktoy.”

Stephen's breath hitched, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he tightened his hold on me, a low growl echoing from the back of his throat. “Can you show me how?” he whispered into my ear, a tinge of vulnerability in his voice.

My fingernails dragged along his smooth skin, finding his heavy hands. I took one in my small, confident palm and moved it until I placed his fingers so they were wrapped around my neck. His eyes widened and pupils dilated when he saw what I wanted, and before he could pull his hand away, I clamped my hand around his, trapping it against my neck. Our eyes locked, and his jaw hung slack.

“I'm not sure I can do this, Wendy.” The vulnerability in his voice had morphed into an unmistakable tremor of fear.

His fingers twitched around my neck as he began to pull away.

I pressed my hand over him, tightening his grip around my throat and leaning into his touch. “You can, Stephen.” My gaze never broke from his, while my other hand slid down his chest, tracing the arch of his abs until it settled over the non-existent bulge in his jeans, searching for any sign from his body to grab onto, but there was nothing.

Suddenly, Stephen yanked his hand from my neck, along with mine, and tossed me like a rag doll off his lap and onto the cushion next to him. “That’s enough.” He bolted from the couch and tossed his shirt over his body, not bothering to fix it yet. “Jesus, Wendy. What the fuck’s gotten into you?”

Not wasting a second, I grabbed my shirt and bra, covering myself from Stephen’s shocked eyes. “I just thought we’d have a good time.” The lies spilling from my mouth were enough to make me swallow down a sour gag.

“In the middle of the night?” Stephen twisted his face, gesturing to the air.

“Yeah, in the middle of the night.” I slumped against the couch, accepting my plan had gone to complete shit.

“What happened in New York? Something happened.” Stephen planted his hands on his hips. “You’re using me, aren’t you?”

“Using you?” I rolled my eyes, fighting the pit of disgust in my stomach because Stephen was right. I was using him and had been caught. This wasn’t me. If anything, it was Vincent. And in my quest to rid myself of Vincent’s dark energy, a sliver of my soul morphed into him. “Ugh, I’m sorry.” I pinched my temple. “You’re right. Something did happen in New York. And I reacted poorly.”

Stephen’s face softened, and his arms fell to his sides. “When you called earlier, I wasn’t sure what to expect.” A half-laugh slipped through his lips, stirring nothing in me. “But, what you want to do? I’m not your guy for that. I guess I’m…too vanilla?” Stephen shrugged, reaching for his coat. “You should get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

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