Page 40 of The Vow

“Don’t worry, there isn’t going to be a fucking wedding day, Pina,” Carmelo muttered as she stood from the chair shakily and Ardian immediately seized her arm and began to drag her to the door. Carmelo shook his head slightly, then gazed about the room taking stock of who was still there.

Colt and April had fucked off to fuck, most likely. Pina and Ardian were making a swift exit, Kavan and, suspiciously enough, Camilla were gone, too. Carmelo ran his hand over his short hair again, but a noise in front of him startled him back.

“Get off me, you fucking guard dog!” It was Pina, she pulled away from Ardian, who willingly let her go, but she was off balance in those ridiculous fuck-shoe stilettos, and immediately went ass over tit onto the floor with a little shriek. Ardian gave her one final glower, and stomped off. She sat there, looking shocked but unhurt. Well, it was probably helped by the amount of wine she’d consumed. She clapped her hands together and laughed, a raucous guffaw, before peeling herself up off the floor, and tottering off after Ardian.

“You’ve got my purse, mongrel… with my room key in it… come back… wait! Come back!” she called, her authoritative voice fading to a teenage grumpy whine by the time she flounced through the doors.

Carmelo could fuck off out of here and no one would notice, he realized. He glanced about, standing up. The evening was descending from a classy tasting soiree to drunken mayhem. The Zakarian’s may sweep about with an air of celebrity and superiority, and clearly ran a successful mafia syndicate but could they hold their drink? Didn’t look like it, they were all pretty sloppy drunks. Carmelo felt smug, that for once he wasn’t the laughing stock of the party. He was pretty much sober, still dressed and the best behaved in the room.

But then he spotted Lena. And he almost sat back down to watch her. She had her head resting on one arm, sprawled forward on the table, her legs open wider than would be considered proper in her dress, and she was rocking gently in the chair, back and forward. Fuck, she was teetering on the edge, desperately trying to crest that orgasm he’d been denying her all evening. This was all red flag after red flag. Her family, even her, being a virgin, being so desperate for release, a release he was willing to bet she’d never actually felt before. Fuck it, he wanted to run all those red lights and go careening out of control with her.

He got up and went over to her. He could hear her sobbing now gently, muttering under her breath. “Oh please, fuck please, oh God, fuck, please, please…”

It was without a doubt, the hottest thing he’d ever had the pleasure to witness.

Lena

“Lena,” a smooth voice sounded from close by. A big hand tapped her lightly on the shoulder and rested there for a moment.

She raised her head but could hardly see straight. She didn’t need to see, though, to know it was him. Carmelo. His hand was warm, his voice was soft, his touch was instantly soothing.

“Huh?” she managed to slur. She immediately felt the intensity of the vibrations in her pants ease back to a gentle base level, which was bitter sweet. She’d been so high off how good it was feeling, but she was also genuinely worried she was going to pop or pee herself or something with how intense it was building up to be. She’d never felt anything like it.

“Come on, I’ll take you to your room…” His voice was liquid honey, clear and glossy and oh so sweet. Goddammit it. She wanted to hate him. She really wanted to.

She stood and he immediately took her arm, leading her to the door.

“But the others… aren’t we meant to be hosting?” she said, gazing about as if in a dream. Had the lights always been this bright in this room?

“Fuck everyone else,” he replied simply. She looked at him, almost at eye level as she was wearing heels. His mocha eyes twinkled back as her legs felt like jelly beneath her.

“We can’t just leave, it’s our wedding tasting dinner… and especially not together,” she said, but her body obeyed him, gliding along beside him as he batted open the door leading out to the main corridor.

“Just did,” he stated with a grin, steering her along the corridor towards her room.

“Do you like it, then?” he asked.

“I… er… what, the food?” She rubbed her eyes, before remembering she had make-up on and tried to dab more elegantly.

“Fuck the food. Your gift,” he said.

She felt her cheeks blushing and she was aware that the little gadget in her panties kicked a new, slightly higher rhythm and intensity.

He flashed his eyebrows up and showed her his phone in his hand.

“You…” She didn’t know what to say. Insults withered on her tongue. “Yes,” she conceded, “I like it very much.”

They were outside her room. He paused while she got out her key card.

“But I haven’t actually come, Carmelo.”

“Hmm,” he said, his eyes suddenly cloudy, harder to read. “You can use the remote control, take yourself over the edge.”

She shook her head. “No, you should finish what you started,” she slurred, but remained authoritative.

He leaned in and kissed her. She pulled her face away but her body betrayed her and immediately sought him out, pressed against him, ground against him in such a sexual way, she hardly recognized herself. She shuddered at the friction. Her clit was ready to burst, her panties were ruined with how wet they were, she was barely coherent.

“Someone might see,” she said, but immediately grabbed his chin and pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing hungrily. “You should come inside.”

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