Page 118 of The Love Syllabus

I can’t stop it.

I grip the table harder, my eyes flutter closed, and I go quiet, completely still, except for the way my body arches just slightly into his hand.

It crashes over me like a tidal wave, quiet but all-consuming, a silent ecstasy that leaves me breathless.

I exhale shakily, blinking the world back into focus. “Oh, Vic.”

He’s still for a moment, just watching me, and his fingers slowly retreat. Then, with the most deliciously wicked grin, he raises his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

And with the most shameless smirk, he raises his hand and says, “Check, please.”

~~~

Back at the villa, the moment the door shuts behind us, Vic grabs my hand and leads me straight to the wall. There’s no hesitation, no asking—just him, full of need, full of love, and full of wanting me.

His mouth claims mine, rough and deep. His tongue slides past my lips, and his hands move everywhere at once—up my back, down my sides, gripping my ass like he missed the feel of it in his palms.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get you alone. It’s been the longest five days of my life. And that damn dress…”

I gasp as he turns me to face the wall, his chest flush against my back, his hands already dragging my dress up to my hips.

Vic drops to his knees behind me, spreading me gently. Then I feel it—his mouth, warm and open against the curve of my ass.

“Vic—”

“Shh,” he mutters. “I missed the way you taste.”

He licks me from behind, slow at first, teasing me with light flicks of his tongue until I whimper. He grips my hips tighter and pulls me back into his mouth, devouring me like it’s his last meal.

“God, you’re so wet already,” he groans. “I love the way your body responds to me.”

He pulls me back into his mouth, burying his face between my legs, his tongue working in slow, hungry circles, dragging moans out of me that echo through the room.

My hands press to the wall for balance, but my legs tremble. “Vic… oh my god! I’m gonna—”

The sensation knocks the air from my lungs. He grunts against me, tongue sliding deeper until I break, my body convulsing as the orgasm overtakes me. I cry out, half-whimper, half-beg as he groans in satisfaction, licking me through every wave.

When I sag against the wall, he rises behind me, presses a kiss to my shoulder, and whispers, “I love you. Every part of you. Every inch. Every sound.”

“I love you, too,” I breathe, still shaking.

Then, I feel the thick weight of him pressing between my legs. He wraps one hand around my waist and the other around my hip.

He slides in slowly, and I stretch around him, full in a way that has me moaning his name.

“Fuck, baby…” His voice is wrecked. “You’re so tight. So warm. I swear to God…”

He starts to move, slow at first, then faster—his hips pounding into me, his body slapping against mine with each thrust. Our echo is obscene. Filthy. Perfect.

“I love the sound of my dick slapping this round ass,” he growls, gripping me harder. “The way you take me… how tight you squeeze around me… Jesus, Kerry. I’ve needed this. I couldn’t go another day without it. Without you.”

Every thrust hits deep and sharp, my cheek pressing to the wall as I cry out.

His pace quickly builds. Each thrust is strong and steady, rocking into me until the wall rattles, and the only sounds in the room are our breaths and bodies slapping together.

My nails dig into the surface for balance, and my body sings for him—burns for him.

“Vic, oh god! Don’t stop,” I whimper, my voice breaking. “You feel so good inside me. So fucking’ deep.”

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