Page 62 of The Love Syllabus

A shudder rolls through me, and I whimper, barely able to find my voice. “Mmm… the wettest I’ve ever been.” I bury my face in his neck, biting back another moan. “I guess you mastered how I like to be touched.”

A low, satisfied growl vibrates against my skin, his grip tightening like he wants to devour me whole. “Well, I have a good teacher,” He murmurs, slowly sliding his hand downward, teasing the edges of my resolve.

“But I need you to help me excel,” he challenges, breath hot against my lips. He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Showme how you like to be touched.”

Knowing what he wants, knowing what I want so damn badly, he slowly peels my hand from around his shoulder. His lips brush over the top of my hand, soft and reverent, before he guides it downward, slipping past the waistband of my pajama pants, then lower, into my panties.

The moment my fingers meet my slick heat, I gasp, my entire body shuddering. My eyes fly to his, where his smirk is as deep as the bulge pressing against the cradle of my thighs, thick and unrelenting. His expression is pure hunger, pure satisfaction at the sight of me unraveling for him.

My fingers slide through my wet, tight entrance, and his hands travel upward, tracing the curves of my body, teasing my nipples, flicking and rolling them between his fingers. Every single touch pushes me further, keeping me suspended in this unbearable, beautiful torment.

He leans back into his couch, shifting his hips just enough for me to see, to feel the promise of what he could give me. Of how good he could make me feel. Of how full he’d make me feel.

Vic’s voice is rough, commanding, and dripping with sin. “That’s right, Kerry. Close your eyes and imagine me instead. Go as deep as you can. Show me. Show me what you want. Show me what you need.”

And I do. I surrender. I let myself get lost in it—the weight of his gaze, the skill of his hands touching my body, the steady rhythm of my own fingers moving intensely in and out, matching the trembling of my body. Every breath is heavy, and every sound I make grows softer and needier until I’m teetering right on the edge.

“I can watch your beautiful face come undone every day. Go deeper, baby. Go deeper for me. Give me something to dream about tonight.”

His voice inches me closer and closer to the edge until, finally, the pressure builds, tightens, and twists so violently that I can’t hold it back.

“Vic… I’m about to come.” I whimper, voice weak, sensual,and wrecked.

His grip on my hip tightens. His fingers dig into my skin as he sits up slightly, pulling me closer, pressing me against the hard length of him, making me feel how much he wants me. How much he needs me, too.

“Release on me, Kerry,” he groans, voice thick with lust. His lips brush my ear, sending another shudder through me. “Explode.”

And I do.

My body seizes, my back arches, and my thighs shake as the release crashes through me, drowning me in wave after wave of unbearable pleasure.

In his ear, I cry out his name while my fingers get lost in my overwhelming pulse as my body collapses against his, spent and shuddering harder than ever before. But Vic holds me through it, his hands tight, soothing, and worshipping me.

And when I finally come down, I still tremble, still panting against him until he cups my face and traces his thumb over my swollen lips.

“Beautiful.” He says in deep reverence. And then, smirking, he leans in, his lips a short breath away from mine. “Lesson five, complete.”

Chapter 16

Dressed to Kill… His Ego – Kerry

Ican’t believe we wenttherefull-on touching and rubbing and dry humping the shit out of each other like we were back in high school, but we did!

And now…I think he regrets it. Well, I don’t think. Iknow.

Ugh, this sucks! For once, my dream wasn’t a dream; it was a replay. I went to sleep on cloud nine and woke up with emotional back pain the moment I read the note on the kitchen counter. I was so excited to start my day with the sound of Vic’s voice through the kitchen camera. I couldn’t wait to smile at his sarcastic greeting, which is really his subtly odd yet sexy way of flirting, but instead, I was met with a note.

Ms. Kind,

What happened last night can NEVER happen again.

Yep, he regrets it.

So much so that he’s barely spoken to me today. Actually, scratch that—he’s spoken to me exactlyonce. And if you can callthatspeaking, then I should be the next Nobel Peace Prize winner for restraint, because I didn’t cuss his ass outimmediately.

“I’m just calling to chat with the girls.”

Not even a hello. Just straight to business.

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