My hands tightened, craving the feel of the hard muscles of his back. His hips against mine, I felt the solid weight of his erection through his pants press against my stomach.
“You feel that? That’s how much I want you.”
“I feel it.” My voice trembled with desire sensing what was coming.
He ground his erection against my sex in slow, firm circles. Even through the layers of our clothes, the pressure and friction sent currents of pleasure, fueling my hunger for direct contact. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I want to feel you inside me, Vincent.”
He grabbed both of my hands and raised my arms over my head, pinning them with one firm hand while the other skillfully unbuttoned my jeans. “Keep your arms here, Kristen. Otherwise I won’t let you have it. Understand?” Only a slight waver in his tone betrayed the steely control he projected.
“I want to feel you though. I want to see you,” I protested, not understanding why he was torturing me with desperate need. He’d wanted this ever since our first meeting and now that he had me dripping with desire, he was taking his sweet time. I needed him inside me. Now.
“Nothing worth pursuing comes without patience,” he said, throwing my own words back at me, inciting frustration that only intensified my arousal. His tone softened. “Clench the pillow behind your head if you need to. I promise, this will be worth it.”
I grumbled approval, so horny I was afraid I was losing my mind.
I wiggled my hips to aid him as he gracefully slipped off my jeans along with my panties. A moment later, I heard them thud in a faraway corner. “God, Kristen. Your cunt is so beautiful.”
His filthy words sent fresh juices to my aching sex. I crossed my legs, embarrassed of what he might see. Although I’d shaved recently, I was self-conscious about him viewing such a vulnerable area of my body.
He parted my legs with firm hands. “Don’t hide such a beautiful thing from me. I want to see it. I want to see everything. Show me.”
I’d always been a little shy being nude in front of a man, but compelled by the urgency in his tone, I did as he asked. Somehow he had the ability to make me feel beautiful.
Then I felt something slowly enter me. A finger.
“So wet. So soft. Damn it.” He growled, as if straining to hold back a primal desire threatening to consume him. His mouth was close to my pussy, his hot labored breaths brushing my clit. I imagined him staring at me, dark eyes inflamed with lust, watching as he pushed his finger into my eagerly awaiting slit. If only I didn’t have this blindfold on, I could see his gorgeous face.
He thrust his finger in up to the second knuckle, and I bit my lip, trying to hold back the moan building inside my throat. It’d been so long since I’d been touched, I was afraid I’d come from that single motion alone.
“You’re already close aren’t you?”
I nodded painfully, fingers desperately clutching the pillow, perspiration misting my skin.
His finger resumed thrusting in and out, twisting as it did so. First slowly, then faster. His pace increased edging me closer to my impending climax.
“Oh my god, I’m coming.”
The orgasm slammed into me, shattering my senses. I arched into his hand and my sex clenched his finger.
Before I could fully recover, I felt sensation against my clit.
“No, Vincent. I’m too sensitive.”
His expert tongue lapped hungrily at the hood, periodically dipping into my cleft and nuzzling my clit with his nose. After my mind-blowing orgasm, I didn’t think my body could take anymore.
“So good. So sweet.” He groaned as he devoured me, sending my head spinning. I writhed on the bed and released my grip from the pillow behind me. I reached for luscious locks, pulling his tongue deeper into my cleft as I bucked my hips. I’d never experienced such brain-sizzling oral pleasure before.
“It feels too good,” I moaned.
“I’ve never been this hard before,” he growled. “I want you so bad.”
“Take me,” I cried.
His head moved away and I heard buttons scatter as he ripped his shirt. His belt buckle and pants soon followed. I knew he freed his cock because there was a dull skin-slapping sound as it hit my stomach. I reached to touch it, to feel its scorching heat and pulsing energy. It was heavy and long enough to accommodate both my hands.
“You don’t know how much I’ve thought about those hands wrapping around my cock.” His voice was desperate and needy. I squeezed him and he released a pained cry.
“Can I take the blindfold off?” I pleaded.
“Yes. Take it off. Everything off.”
With one hand, I pulled away the folded napkin and I gazed at what was in my other hand.
“Jesus, you’re big.”
My gaze snagged on the hard tapered lines of his pelvis. And ripped. My gaze trailed from his hips up and across steely abs and chiseled pecs pierced with silver rings to his breathtaking face, dark eyes flushed with desire. I’d seen him in his swimsuit before, but now he was completely nude, radiating raw sexual energy that stole my breath.
“I can’t fight it anymore, Kristen. I need to be inside you.”
He reached into a bedside drawer and produced a small packet. I released my grip as he roughly took his member in his own hands and wrapped himself before guiding it to my entrance. I sucked in a deep breath preparing for his size. Although I used a vibrator, Vincent looked bigger than what I was used to. I anticipated he’d impatiently thrust to the hilt, but he took his time, slowly parting the folds with the head. With how wet I was, he was easily able to slide in. He stopped when the tip was fully inside and pulled back with the same patience, slowly stroking my walls with just the head, cycling sensations of emptiness and fullness again and again. The teasing was agonizing.
“Deeper,” I begged.
He pushed deeper, unhurried, every ridge of his heated flesh firing nerves I didn’t realize I had. My mind swam in the experience.
“Faster,” I panted.
“You said slow.”
I began to regret having said those words to him during our date in St. Thomas, but then his pace quickened. I gripped his backside and pulled, aiding his thrusts as I bucked forward for stronger penetration. It’d been so long since I had sex that the pleasure from Vincent moving inside me was almost unbearable. Consumed by desire, our mouths and bodies wrestled in primal lust, cries of pleasure echoing throughout the apartment.
“You’re making me lose it, Kristen. I can’t stop.”
His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate as did my moans. Then I felt him jerk and the first wave of heat poured into me. He released a strangled growl the moment I clenched around him. He collapsed into me as my world went dark again for a moment. We laid there for a spell, neither of us speaking, just the sound of our heavy breaths and heartbeats filling the silence.
“You’re incredible,” Vincent said, lifting his face to look into my gaze.
I smiled, staring back into those dark eyes brimming with warm affection. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“I thought I was going to die there for a moment.”
“I’m not sure I haven’t.”
He smiled and kissed my cheek. “You’re still here. With me.”
We were standing among the impressive marble pillars of the library, looking out at the red brick buildings of Harvard Square. It was autumn and the red and yellow leaves fluttering down beneath the waning sun made a picturesque setting for a stupid argument about a post on my Facebook wall.
“Just tell me who he is!” the man yelled, his brown hair combed just above his bright blue eyes perfectly, as always. Together with his rimless glasses, he resembled a J Crew model.
“He’s a friend from a class. It’s nothing!”
It was the third time we’d fought that week. We were never a couple that fought a lot, but for some reason we’d been getting into more and more arguments recently. A year older, he’d graduated before me and gotten a job at his dad’s law firm in Boston. Since then, he’d visited me regularly on campus, which I was grateful for, but knowing I was surrounded by other attractive guys my age seemed to make his jealousy worse.
He looked around. “You swear it’s nothing?”
I hated having to deal with this part of our relationship. We’d been through this argument before—some guy waving at me or saying hello, sharing class notes, or asking if I wanted to go to a social event—and every time it ended with tears and hurt feelings. For both of us. It got to the point where we decided to share phone, email, and Facebook passwords.
“Oh my god, yes.”
He took another look around and held out his hand, pinky extended. “Fine. Pinky swear.”
Childish as it was, I was glad to be done with the argument. The past few months he’d been flipping out over every single guy who even looked at me, and it was a problem. I hoped I had at least avoided anything more extreme. But when I looked at his cold blue eyes, I was unsure. I glanced around sheepishly, but the campus was mostly deserted, finals having ended weeks ago.
I held out my pinky and intertwined it with his, hoping the action would appease him. His eyes flashed and he yanked me to his chest, twisting my finger savagely. I gasped, the full weight of the dread I had been carrying for weeks finally rising to the surface of my mind. As the pain erupted, hot tears flooded my eyes. My other hand shot up to pry my injured hand away from him, but he was too strong.
“Don’t ever lie to me Kristen. Never. Do you understand me? Never.”
My world blurred as tears poured down my cheeks. I tried desperately to scream for help but as I opened my mouth, his hand shot up to cover it. The world went gray.
I woke up screaming. A bundle of nerves, it didn’t help I couldn’t recognize my surroundings. Where was I?
“Kristen,” a familiar voice said, “it was just a dream. You’re okay.”
I turned to Vincent beside me. His face was full of concern and his hand was wrapped gently around my shoulder. Realization swept over me. He was mostly right, it had been a dream. Not just a dream, but I was safe for now. I turned to him.
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