Page 50 of Virtuous Lies
“Very well. I have work to do.” He stands, stepping closer, not attempting to hide the bulge in his pants. “Sweet dreams,dolcezza.” He kisses my cheek gently, dragging his fingers over the silk on my stomach before exiting our bedroom without a backward glance.
I drop down onto the armchair he just vacated, a frustrated growl puffing from my well-kissed lips.
My nipples are hard, and my pussy is wet. I wanted relief, and I was stupid to refuse Vincent because he declined my request to fuck me. I growl in frustration.
I sit for a minute. The lamp-lit room is supposed to be a beacon of desire. Our private space. One that encourages affection and intimacy. I want it. So fucking bad. I want Vincent to touch me. I want my husband to drive me wild with lust the way he does. But I want him to take it past the edge he balances on so confidently. I want him to tip over, maddened by the need to slam his cock inside me.
I open my robe, shrugging it off my shoulders and letting it pool around my hips.
Sliding my fingers over my mound, I suck in a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering closed in satisfaction. My fingertips are damp with my desire, and I lift them, circling them over the hardened peaks of my right nipple. I moan softly, enjoying my tentative touch. I slide my hand back down, rubbing my index and middle finger over my clit, my body trembling at the gentle caress.
I move between my pussy and my nipples, enjoying myself too much to let myself come too fast. I could do this for hours. Tease my nipples and clit, make them throb with the need for relief.
“You won’t let me make you come, but you’ll do it yourself?”
His voice makes me moan, and I open my eyes, enjoying the lazy way he leans against the doorframe, whiskey in hand, the ring on his index finger tapping the glass every so often.
“Mm,” I respond, letting myself slide my fingers deep into my pussy.
“I noticed you before you ever did me.” His voice tastes like honey on my tongue, smoky and just the right amount of sweet. “Did you know that?”
“Nuh-uh,” I breathe out.
His eyes fixate on my hand, currently fingering my pussy. “I’d watch you at family parties, and I’d fantasize about all the ways I’d bruise you.”
“Tell me,” I beg, my back arching as I push my fingers deeper into my pussy.
I’m swollen and soaked, my excitement building up with the rough addition of his voice in our room.
“You’d laugh, and I’d want to swallow the sound with my mouth.” He vibrates with need. “I wanted to bite your lips until I drew blood. I wanted to turn your laugh into a gasp of shock, into a surprised moan of pleasure.”
“Vinnie.” I pull my fingers back, finding the uneven swell within me, rubbing it softly with the pads of my fingers. “Oh, god.”
“That should be my hand,” he growls, stepping closer.
“No.”
“No?” he questions, tipping the contents of his glass into his mouth before throwing the empty glass on our bed.
“No touching.”
“No touching?” he repeats.
“Until you’re ready to fuck me.”
“You ready to show me your soul?”
I look at him through heavy-lidded eyes, shaking my head.
“I imagined stripping you naked in front of everyone.” He comes to a stop in front of me, dropping to his knees with the finesse of a man entirely in control of his body. “I’d dream about spraying my cum over your beautiful face and sinful body so everyone knew you were mine to possess, to control, to please, tolove.”
My body convulses.
“Vinnie,” I moan.
“That’s it, baby. Fuck that tight little cunt. Curl your fingers in tighter, Bianca. Rub harder.”
I do as he says, crying out in pleasure.