Page 20
Story: Vow of Vengeance
CHAPTER 20
Ophelia
I laugh as I wind my arms around his neck, holding tight. My bare skin presses against the warm, solid plane of his broad chest as he carries me. I stare at his sculpted shoulders and washboard abs. He said he still plays ice hockey and doesn’t like partying, so to keep the brothers off his back, he meets them at the gym when he can.
Mr. Gian, the caffeine police, says I’m still growing. I glance down at my chest, my naked breasts bared to Haze. It’d be nice if they could keep growing, too.
Even though I’m not voluptuous like the women he’s probably used to, I don’t feel shy in Haze’s arms. I don’t worry about what my body looks like, smells like, feels like. He tells me all the time. And if he ever stopped telling me, I would only have to look into his eyes to know what he thinks of me.
No one, NO ONE, has ever looked at me the way he does. Like I’m something to be devoured and simultaneously worshiped.
He washes my self-doubt away.
Except for that little mix-up in the car when I accidentally slipped up and admitted my mom told me she wasn’t the one sending Haze the messages. Whoops. Talk about a heart attack moment. Yeah, defo got that info from my secret convo on my contraband flip phone. I hated lying to him, but I couldn’t get Gian into trouble.
And I can’t lose that phone.
Speaking of…
I run my fingers over the back of his head, stroking silky curls. “Should we go to your room?”
“I’m not waiting for another second.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
My heart beats faster, a combination of how he’s looking at me and the fact that I just remembered that my phone is IN THIS ROOM.
But now he’s kissing me. Easing his naked god-like body on the edge of my bed and pulling me onto his lap, straddling me over his muscular thighs. I’m shy at first, but then I place a hand on either of his shoulders, rising onto my knees. They sink into the mattress as I stare down at him.
“Hey there.” I let my hair fall over my face and onto his shoulders.
“Hey, yourself.” His hands are warm as they cuddle my B-cups. He looks up at me, whispering, “God damn, you’re beautiful.”
“So are you.” I take him in, the dark scuff along his strong jaw. The tanned plane of his abs. The cock, hard and ready. Arousal pools between my thighs, my body as ready as his. I’m a little overwhelmed as I stare at its size. Obviously, since I’ve only had sex once, I’ve never been on top.
I freeze. What do I do? How do I do this?
Then he starts kissing my breast. My eyes close, my head lolling back. He makes me want to experience all the positions and try everything. My body takes over, seeking him. I’m initially shy, taking my time as I ease down onto him, but then I warm up, getting the hang of things as I ride him.
I’m just getting in the flow when he takes my hand, moving it between my thighs. I break our kiss with a gasp. “What are you doing?”
“It’s not what I’m doing. It’s what you’re going to do.” He moves my fingertips around till they're on my swollen clit.
My body tenses. This feels so wrong. Shame flows over me. I’m so new to all of this. I’m not that comfortable doing it alone or in private.
To touch myself while he watches?
“I don’t think I can do that...”
“Do it, baby. " His smooth voice makes me wetter. “Make yourself feel good. I want to watch.”
Gah. Heat. Everywhere. Slowly, I move my fingers. “Ah…” The feeling is strange and good; the tingles, like when he does it, are only laced with a hint of power yet shame.
“That’s so sexy.” He lifts his hips off the bed, rewarding my obedience with a deep thrust of his cock.
I’m moaning; the feel of him rising inside me is incredible. As I relax, I find my stride. I’m not only getting the hang of this—I’m winning. I become a goddess seated on the throne of my glorious god.
My fingers move, and my hips roll. Our bodies pick up the pace. He begins bouncing me on his lap, the penetration deeper, more impactful. My fingers stimulate my clit, and the orgasm builds all over me. My head flies back, my cries echoing into the night. He kisses my breasts, throwing me into another level of paradise as I ride the first wave of the heady climax. He moans against my nipple, enjoying his climax.
I see stars. My heart races. My ears ring.
My ears are ringing… my ears are… ringing?
The muffled, tinny sound of a phone breaks through the incredible wall of the final dregs of climax. I come crashing down, my body tumbling through the surf. NO! The phone is ringing.
My heart lunges into my throat. I stare down at him. He’s lost in his man world, kissing my nipple in his afterglow. Maybe he didn’t hear it. I moan. “Oh, that felt SO GOOD.”
Please stop ringing. Please stop ringing.
The phone rings again. Sweat dots my brow. I press my face against the side of his, hoping to muffle the sound, and cry, “Wow, that was AMAZING!”
The freaking phone rings again.
He pulls away from me, searching my face. “What’s that?”
“Nothing!” Okay, now I’m shouting like Grandpa does when he gets on a video call. I tone it down. I kiss his cheeks, distract him, move to his lips, murmuring, “I didn’t hear anything.”
His hands move to my hips. Fingertips sinking into my soft curves. He stares up at me. “Why the hell is there a phone in this room?”
Now, the ringing stops.
“What do you mean?” I widen my eyes to baby deer status. I give a sexy shrug, hoping my breasts grab his attention. “I don’t hear anything.”
I knew he was strong, but now he lifts me straight up in the air, right off his cock, off his lap, and he stands, depositing me back on the bed without even taking a breath. Those muscles aren’t only for show.
He’s over to the closet in two strides.
I’m mentally apologizing to my quilt as I mop up with a lower corner and then pull it around my breasts.
Seeing as I’m about to be destroyed the moment he finds that phone, I’m trying not to ogle as he flings the closet doors open, but the wingspan on that man makes me want to sail off a cliff. The muscles in his shoulders, his muscular legs, his ass are sculpted stone, like one of the statues of David we saw at the Galleria Borghese on our field trip to Rome.
I didn’t know I was into butts. He sure is; that much was evident to me with his dastardly toy collection. My cheeks clench from thinking of the next size up of butt plug that’s undoubtedly coming my way.
Gathering the quilt tighter around my body, I rest against the headboard, watching him. He kneels down, muscles flexing under that olive skin as he goes to the only hiding place in the closet. He’s unwinding the gray hoodie.
I watch as the phone pops out and lands on the floor.
Traitor.
It’s like slow motion in a horror movie when he picks up the phone and turns to me with laser-like eyes. “Where did you get this?”
“Oh my gosh!” I cry. “How did that get there?”
“Do they offer acting classes at that fancy school of yours?” He eyes me.
What a funny question. “No. Why?”
“I didn’t think so.” He narrows his gaze. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Is that the worst thing a person can be?” I ask.
He stands. Naked. All ten feet of him. He holds the phone out. “Where did you get this?”
Protectiveness for Gian comes on strong. “I can’t say.”
“Can’t,” he demands. “Or won’t.”
I shake my head. “Can’t.”
He moves across the floor, pantherlike, toward me. “Do I need to spank the answer out of you?”
“Do what you like.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I won’t say.”
“Gian is the only one who could have gotten you a phone,” he says.
The phone rings. Again.