Page 21 of The Vow

So he didn’t. He felt a wave of feelings he didn’t expect to feel smash into him. Suddenly he wanted to comfort her, protect her. Look after her. He wanted to be the one to take her there. He swallowed and shook his head to clear it. He backed his hand out a few inches, and skimmed his now wet fingertips over her clit.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed again. Yeah, he’d work her here instead. His fingers skimmed again, harder this time, faster. He circled and pinched and flicked.

She made a noise. A noise of surprised pleasure. Of need. Of desire that needed to be burnt out because it was flaring too bright, too hot. He knew it too well.

She arched back and into his face, relaxing, uncoiling. Carmelo sucked her clit mercilessly, pleased she relaxed again. She gasped as he felt her thighs tighten under his palms. She was close. He kept sucking, all over her pussy, and then-

Her phone rang.

She jumped up the desk like she’d been burnt. His lips popped off her with a loud, slurpy pop and those tennis panties snapped out of his grasp and back onto her wet pussy.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, gazing around like she was taking it all in for the first time. Carmelo reached for the little bag, her handbag, that was on the floor, passing it to her, grinning.

She was clearly incredibly flustered. She plucked her phone from her bag, held it upside down, nearly dropped it as she turned it around awkwardly, the handcuffs impeding her movements. She finally pressed the button to accept the call.

“Yes?” she said breathlessly

Carmelo heard the dulcet tones of that dickwad Kavan. “Helicopter is ready…”

“Er yes… I’m just in the bathroom…” she stuttered before ending the call.

Carmelo bent down again, trying to get back under her panties. She had been so close. He wanted to finish the job. Finish her off. He nuzzled his nose between her thighs but her hand batted him out.

He emerged reluctantly, to find her staring at him with shock, her face aghast.

Fuck, she’d snapped out of her pleasure-haze and was clearly regretting what had happened.

Carmelo had seconds to act. He grabbed her phone out of her hand.

“I’m taking your number ‘cause I want you to go back and smash that fucking tennis match, and I want to hear the score.” He went ahead and keyed in his phone number, then pressed send. Feeling his vibrate in his pocket was all he needed, but he pulled his phone out and typed in a contact name anyway. “Wifey” felt appropriate in the moment, while she was spread out on the desk, dripping wet, with his cum all over her throat and lips, he thought with a grin.

“I… I gotta go,” she stammered back, clearly still in shock.

“I want to finish you off, Princess, if you want to be late-”

“I… I can’t.” She snatched back her phone, remembering the handcuffs.

“Get these off me,” she said shakily.

He sighed and got the key out, snapping the lock open with a little flick, as he peered into her eyes. She was avoiding eye contact, watching the handcuffs instead.

“It’s okay, you know-” he tried to say, suddenly feeling the need to reassure her.

As soon as the handcuffs were off, she picked up her bag and backed out of the room.

Carmelo still had his pants halfway down his butt and the open handcuffs swinging from his fingers as she turned and called over her shoulder, “Goodbye, Sergeant.” She unlocked the door and flounced out of the room, and, Carmelo assumed, out of his life forever.

Oh how wrong he was.

Lena

She wiped her lips for the millionth time as she sat self-consciously in the helicopter, scared it was on there, scared Kavan could see it, smell it. She could still taste it. Taste him. She faced out of the window, watching the landscape fly by, watching the tiny houses and cars crawl by below. There wasn’t any cum on her face, she knew that, she’d checked, she’d swilled her mouth out and even bought and used a toothbrush set from the hotel reception before she’d got in the little helicopter cabin. But still. She felt it on her. She felt him on her.

She liked it.

Something just for her. Something she’d taken back from the universe, that asked her to give and give. A little secret that was hers to keep and cherish. She almost wanted to find more of his cum on her face, as a momento, something physical she could say had definitely happened. Maybe she’d find some crusted to her neck later that evening. It was a sick thought. She loved it.

Maybe it could be like a sexual education experience for her? He clearly knew what he was doing in that department, and God knew she needed the experience. She couldn’t play the part of sassy mafia princess without feeling like she could slay it in and out of the bedroom. Was that wrong? Was it just society, expectations, what she’d seen and read on social media? Her environment telling her she wasn’t yet a woman until she had mastered the bedroom? Or was it her? Was it her burning need to be the best at everything she did? She wanted to be good, she wanted to know what she was doing, she wanted that whole set of tools in her toolbox for when she was head of the family once her father passed. She tried to rationalize it using that excuse. Well aware that she was bullshitting herself. Her brain was telling her one thing, that yes, that had all just been a useful learning exercise and nothing more. But her body was telling her something else. She’d done what she had done because she had wanted to. Pure lust, pure surrender to temptation.