Page 43 of Selfish Desires

“You’re sure?” His voice was deep and gruff, one hand still holding onto his erection. He was ready to drive it into me but wanted me to be sure.

“Yes,” I confirmed, rewarding him with a slow nod. “I am.”

With those words, the tentative look on his face faded. He discarded the condom on the bedside table. His strong, rough hands roamed up my thighs until they reached my hips, guiding me to the edge of the bed.

As much as I wanted to let go and forget about everything except this moment, there was an irritating voice reminding me of Vincent’s mistake that nearly broke me beyond repair. I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking the intrusive thought from my mind, and decided I would enjoy this.

Vincent lowered himself, gliding his dick through my slick folds. Even though I was dripping wet and ready for him, the first push was still a shock—his thickness stretching me wide as he drove himself all the way in till he was fully seated within me.

“Oh God…” The moan fell from my lips without control as his cock filled me completely.

Vincent’s movements were slow and calculated at first, taking time to stretch me around his girth. His brow furrowed in concentration, and sweat began to bead on his forehead as he picked up the pace.

“Tell me how much your cunt needs me. How much do you need me? How hard you need me to fuck you because you’re my perfect little whore.” His thrusts became relentless, and I met each one with my hips raised off the bed, eager to feel more of him. He groaned in response, pounding into me harder, deeper.

“Please don’t stop.” I clawed his back, almost positive I broke the skin.

Vincent’s mouth enveloped mine in a desperate, wet, sloppy kiss. Our moans filled the room as the air grew thick from sex and raw arousal. Unable to hold back any longer, I clutched Vincent’s shoulders as waves of pleasure crashed over me. My orgasm hit me hard, my inner walls clenching around Vincent’s cock as I screamed. My pussy clenched around his cock as I rode out wave after wave of my climax. “Fuck, Wendy…” He groaned, thrusting harder into me. Each powerful surge of his hips against mine was punctuated by a grunt of my name. The room filled with the sounds of our labored breathing and the wet slap of skin against skin. My body shuddered under him, still sensitive from my climax.

With a deep grunt and a final thrust, Vincent’s face contorted in pleasure. His hands on my hips tightened impossibly more as his cock twitched within me, releasing his hot seed. Our moans mingled as he emptied himself inside me. He collapsed onto me, sweaty chest against my breasts, as we caught our breath. We remained tangled for what felt like an eternity. His weight on top of me was comforting, making my body burn with satisfaction.

After a while, Vincent rolled off me, panting heavily but still keeping an arm wrapped securely around my waist. His free hand ran through his tousled hair before dropping onto the pillow next to his head.

“Fuck,” he finally said. “You’re so fucking amazing.”

A gentle smile curved my lips as I turned to look at him, a heat blooming in my chest at his words. “You are too,” I murmured, tracing a finger over his chest. My skin tingled where our bodies were still pressed together.

Vincent propped himself onto his elbow, kissing me on the lips. “I’ll be right back.” His eyes locked on mine before I had a chance to respond. He bounced out of bed, pulled on his black boxers, and disappeared from the bedroom. His words were simple but sent my heart into a dangerous spiral. Of course, Vincent would return. This wasn’t like last time, and it never would be again, according to the thousands of reassurances he fed to me since reappearing.

But I couldn’t shake the fear. And it was starting to gnaw away at me. I had to tell Vincent about how I felt, and this insecurity still lingered in my mind. My heart never doubted Vincent’s love for me, except the logical side of my brain warned me to be careful.

A few minutes later, Vincent returned with a glass of water with floating lemons and a fresh berry plate. He handed me the glass, his fingers lingering on mine before he sat back against the headboard, with the plate resting against his bare thighs.

“Thought you might need some refueling,” he said, plucking a raspberry from the plate and holding it to my mouth. “Be a good girl. You know what to do.”

I rubbed my tired eyes, the fire leaving my skin, leaving me with a tingling buzz. “I just want to lay with you.” I eyed the colorful plate he prepared, and it really was impressive. “Jesus, Vin. You plated the fruit beautifully.”

“I told you, I have a lot of time now.” He smirked, holding up a juicy black raspberry. “Open.”

I opened my mouth obediently and let him feed me, the sweet burst of tartness melting against my tongue. He chuckled softly at the pleasured sigh that slipped past my lips, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Thank you,” I said, letting him feed me a sliced ruby-red strawberry. As I ate in silence, I studied Vincent in the dim light.

His chiseled features were softened by the gentle glow, his dark hair wild from our recent fuck. He was a picture of sensual ease, his naked chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes held a warmth that melted my heart, the same warmth that had drawn me to him years ago. But underneath it all was a layer of worry and uncertainty that I knew too well.

My gaze dropped to the berries, my appetite suddenly gone as unease settled over me.

“Vincent...” I began, my heart pounding in my chest. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“You mean we need to talk,” he countered, lifting his eyes to meet mine.

“Oh? Okay.” I set aside the half-eaten plate, taking a hefty gulp of the citrus water, and placed it on the nightstand. “You go first.” My pulse thundered in my ears, wondering what he would say.

“I see the look that flashes across your face whenever I leave a room. Like before, when I said I would be right back. You still think I’m not coming back. You think I’ll abandon you again.” There were no questions in Vincent’s words. Everything was a pure fact.

I cleared my throat, tipping my head back, begging myself not to cry as I blinked the moisture away. “Vincent, it's not that I think you'll...leave,” I mumbled, struggling to find the right words. “It's just that...I can't shake off the feeling from that memory...”

Silence settled between us. The ticking of the clock on the bedside table hammered against my eardrums. The echo of a distant siren filtered in through the closed window.

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