Page 2 of Broken Vows

"You have a problem with that?" I try to close my knees as he drags off my scrubs and panties, heat rushing to my face.

"Open." His voice is pure command. "All the way. Let me see you."

"The windows?—"

"Shhh…You're mine tonight. I don’t care if the whole city sees.”

His mouth is on me, and I stop thinking. His tongue, merciless.

"Oh God, Vince—" His name—real or not, who the hell knows—tears from my throat like a wanton prayer.

"That's it," he whispers against my slick skin. "Say my name like you mean it."

"Please—"

"Please what, baby? Use your words."

"Don't stop. Please don't fucking stop."

He fucks me harder with his fingers, curling them until I cry out. "Fuck, you taste like mine."

I come so hard I almost black out. My breasts shudder as my body tenses. He stays with me through it, only freeing me when I'm limp and shaking.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, standing, cock already out—thick and ready.

He lifts me bodily, spreads me wide over the couch. "Tell me to stop. Otherwise, I not stopping with you tonnight."

I glare up at him. "If you do, I'll kill you myself."

"There's my vicious girl." He plants a hand on my throat, pinning me, eyes burning. "This what you need? Someone who won't coddle you?"

"Yes." The word is barely a whisper.

He slides inside me in one brutal stroke. "Fuck, you feel?—"

"Perfect," I finish, wrapping my legs around his back. "You feel perfect."

The rhythm is obscene. Desperate. Hungry. "You like it rough?" he growls in my ear.

"Harder." I bite his shoulder, marking him. "I want everything.”

"Jesus, you're going to kill me." But he pounds into me, the couch shifting under us.

"Good," I gasp. "We'll die together."

"Fuck, baby—" He comes hard, and I follow him over the edge.

For a long moment we stay tangled up together.

"What's your name?" he asks again, softer now.

"Does it matter?" I'm already reaching for my clothes. Just because he gave me a name doesn’t mean this stranger deserves to know mine.

"It matters to me." I hear the way he says it. I ignore it.

I pause at the door, looking back—rumpled. Satisfied. Still dangerous. "Maybe that's why I can't tell you."

"Will I see you again?"