Page 85 of Vicious Temptation
“Ye—yes—” She moans as I lick her clit again, lapping gently at it. “Oh god, Gabriel, how many times?—”
“At least once more.” I reach down, stroking myself once with my bare hand, spreading her arousal down the length of my cock. I suck in a sharp breath as I wrap the wet, silky fabric of her panties around my shaft, hot pleasure lancing down my spine at the sensation, and then I press my lips to her pussy again, rolling my tongue over her clit as I start to stroke.
It feels so fucking good. I want to fuck her so badly that I can hardly stand it, but I hold myself back. And the silky sensation against my cock, combined with the taste of her on my lips and the obscene thought that I’m going to come in her panties, is enough to have me clinging to the edge of my control within a few strokes.
“Gabriel—” Bella whimpers my name, her breathing fast and hard, her hands pressed flat to the hood of the car. “Oh god—I think—I think you’re going to make me come again?—”
A dozen different replies roll through my head, but I can’t stop for any of them. My hand around my cock and my mouth on her pussy are all I can focus on, and I moan against her as I wrap her panties over the tip of my cock and fuck my fist hard, my muscles winding tight in preparation to fill them with my cum as I suck her clit into my mouth.
Her scream of pleasure is what tips me over the edge. Her arousal drenches my mouth and chin, soaking me in her as she bucks up against my face, and my cock erupts, spurting hot cum into her panties as I thrust into my hand.
I rock forward, gripping the edge of the hood with my free hand as I groan, shuddering as my cock pulses again, and I feel her flutter against my tongue.
God, I can’t wait to come inside of her. The thought makes me throb, but right on the heels of it, it hits me what that will mean.
When Bella finally lets me take her to bed, that will be it. Those are the terms of our agreement—I teach her how to be comfortable enough to have sex, as friends, and then we’re done.
I should be fine with it. I’ve rarely assigned meaning to sex in my life, except with a few women—and ending with my late wife. Bella could never be only a conquest to me, but once I’ve slept with her, that should be enough.
The ache in my chest warns me that it won’t be.
I push the thought out of my head, looking up at Bella. She’s limp and breathless against the hood of the car, looking at me with glazed eyes as a tiny, tired smile twitches at the corner of her lips. “That was incredible,” she whispers.
“More than incredible.” I tuck myself away, giving her a hand to sit up. She looks around, her expression still slightly dazed.
“I forgot we were outside,” she says with a small laugh. “I can’t believe I did that.” She looks at me curiously. “Have you ever done that before?”
It’s not usually the best idea, in my opinion, to share past sexual experiences—especially when one partner is far more experienced than the other. But there’s no guile in the question—it’s not an attempt on Bella’s part to dig into my past. And in this case, at least, I think she’ll like the answer.
“No,” I tell her honestly. “Not like this. And never in—or on—my car,” I add with a laugh. “That’s actually a fantasy I’ve had for a long time,” I add, letting my gaze rest on her face, and Bella smiles softly.
“I like that.” She leans into me, easily, effortlessly. As if it’s no big deal, when not all that long ago, she flinched if I even tried to touch her hand.
She’s doing this so that she can have a normal life. Normal relationships. But I can’t help wondering if it’s really going to be that easy for her with someone else. I should want it to be. I should want her to have everything she wants, whether it makes me burn with jealousy or not to think of her with another man.
But I don’t want anyone else touching her. I don’t ever want anyone else to know what she looks like as she comes, to feel the velvet heat of her gripping their fingers or cock, to know what she tastes like. Right now she’s mine, and only mine, and a part of me wants to drag her into my arms, kiss her, and tell her that I want it to be that way forever.
I’ll only disappoint her.
Bella has enough baggage of her own. She doesn’t need mine. She doesn’t need a widower who isn’t sure if he has the capacity to really love again, who deep down is terrified of loving someone and losing them for a second time. I come with a mountain of baggage all on my own, and I don’t want to make any woman deal with that—but least of all Bella.
She deserves better than me, when it comes to the man who is going to love her forever.
But I can give her something to remember, in the meantime. And I can continue helping her put pieces of herself back together, the way she’s done for me.
I help her off of the car, and she slides in on the passenger’s side, re-knotting her shirt in the front and adjusting her skirt. I start the car, carefully getting us back out to the road and on the way home. Bella is quiet, sitting next to me, and I glance over at her after a few miles.
“Are you alright?” I want to reach over and touch her leg, but I have the sense that it might be better not to, right now.
“I’m fine,” she says softly. “Just tired.”
I start to say something in response, to make sure that she really is, when something catches my eye in the rear-view mirror. It’s a black car that I spied behind us two turns back, and it’s still there. Some gut instinct pricks at me, and I frown before I can stop myself.
“What?” Bella asks, seeing my expression immediately. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing.” I glance in the mirror again, and she twists around, seeing the car as it turns with us once again.
“Gabriel—”