Cuff Me(70)

Vincent paused when he neared the peak, his eyes locking on hers. Holding her gaze as he slowly, deliberately pulled the robe that last crucial inch, letting the back of his index finger graze her nipple as he exposed her all the way.

Jill cried out at the touch, and Vin’s cock got even harder at the sound.

Curious if she was always that sensitive, he repeated the motion, moving his finger back up, brushing her again.

She gasped.

He grinned evilly then. Six years trying to figure out how to get the upper hand on this woman, and this was all it took.

Vincent rested the pad of his thumb on the tip of her breast, barely touching her—torturing her.

She arched her back up into him and he pulled his hand away. Again and again they repeated the motion, her desperate to have his hand on her, him just as determined to make her wait.

Only when she was cursing him, sounding very much like, well, her, did he give her what she wanted.

He captured her nipple between this thumb and forefinger, idly rolling it as he watched her pant. Vincent let the edge of his thumbnail scrape her just slightly and she nearly came off the bed.

“Ah, Jill,” he said reverently. And then when he couldn’t help himself any longer, his own control at the brink, he scooted down and brought his mouth to her breast.

He started with the tip of his tongue, flicking her nipple just lightly, before lapping at her in rhythmic strokes.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, clasping her to him as he drew her into his mouth, sucking the sweet puckered tip into his mouth.

His hand slid across her chest, shoving the robe aside to reveal her other breast, repeating the same torturous process on that side until she was sobbing with need.

Vincent’s hand slid down her belly, his fingertips tracing over the soft curve of her lower belly until sliding down farther and finding the elastic band of her panties.

He used one finger to trace all around the elastic, starting with the tip before lifting his hand and repeating the slow process at the sensitive crease of her inner thighs.

Jill’s hips arched up and he pulled his hand away.

“I hate you,” she gasped.

He merely grinned and repeated the motion all over again, this time accidentally on purpose letting his finger slip beneath the fabric.

Vincent moved upward slightly, waiting until she turned her face to his before kissing her, long and deep.

He let one finger roam over the front of her underwear then, and he groaned in satisfaction when he found her wet.

“Damn it, Jill.”

In response she pulled his mouth more firmly against hers with one hand as the other drifted down to the front of his jeans. He growled in response, his hand pulling hers away and pinning it above her head.

“Think you’re in control, do you?” she asked.

In response, Vincent slipped one finger under the elastic of her panties.

She gasped.

“I don’t know,” he said as he gently explored her folds. “Am I in control?”

“I hate you,” she said again, this time around a moan.

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound like hate, darling.”

“It is. It definitely is,” she said, her voice a little rough.

“Well then, I guess you want me to stop,” he said, sliding his hand away from her, smiling when she whimpered in protest.

“Please,” she said, her wrists twisting under his grip.

“Please what?” he said, his lips fastening once more on her nipple.

He glanced up at her as his mouth played at her breast, finding her watching him with cloudy blue eyes.

“Still feeling the hate?” he asked roughly.

Wordlessly, she shook her head.

Rewarding her, Vincent slid down her body, releasing her hands as he did so, gratified when her fingers instantly found his head, running through his hair.

He kissed each of her ribs, taking his time, listening to her panting breaths, before he pulled back and glared at her robe, which was still hooked on her arms and kept getting in his way every time she moved.

“Off,” he commanded.

For once, she didn’t argue. She sat up, slightly tugging her arms free of the bulky fabric before yanking it away and tossing it aside.

“Better?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

In response, his hand flattened across her chest, pushing her back to the bed as his mouth continued its downward descent, his fingers trailing over her rib cage until they reached the top of her panties.

He watched her eyes as he pulled her underwear down and off. There was no shyness in her eyes—only hunger.

And then she was naked, and Vincent’s own hunger ratcheted up a notch or two. His fingers trailed over the inside of her ankles, and it occurred to him that one of them should feel worried about the line they were about to cross.

But Vincent didn’t want to think about tomorrow. Didn’t want to think about anything other than running his lips up the inside of her calves.

So he did.

His lips lingered on her skin, trailing up and down her lean legs, learning her taste. His hands wrapped around her ankles, pushing them up so he had access to the soft, sweet skin behind her knees.

By the time he reached her inner thighs, letting his mouth plant wet kisses to the supple skin there, she was right where he wanted her—panting and eager.

His teeth scraped her inner thigh and she arched off the bed, his name a plea on her lips.