Chapter 17: TASTE

Vincent

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

As my tongue made contact with Arianna’s sopping wet pussy for the first time, I was consumed by an uncontrollable hunger, like a ravenous beast about to devour its prey. Her ecstatic screams only fueled my savage desire, promising an exquisite feast for which I had eagerly awaited. The green-eyed monster of jealousy still smoldered within me, its embers fanned by the knowledge that she had potentially opened herself to others before me.

This thought continued to taunt and torment me, muscles coiled with tension as I forced myself to remain focused on the sensual dance unfolding before me. Arianna’s innocent beauty and virginity were mine to claim, and I was determined to prove my dominance over her.

The sensual rhythm of my tongue lapping at her slick folds intensified, each stroke designed to unravel her completely. As my finger joined the intimate invasion, curling to stroke her sensitive G-spot, Arianna’s grip on my hair tightened, nearly yanking me back with the force of her reaction. The pain only served to heighten my arousal, sending vibrations through her body as I growled in satisfaction.

Her climaxes came swiftly and repeatedly, each one more explosive than the last. Watching her lose herself in the throes of pleasure, eyes glazed over with desire, filled me with a possessive pride. She was mine, and I would not rest until I had claimed every inch of her.

As the final waves of her orgasm subsided, I pulled back, gazing up at her with a challenging intensity. “Has someone tasted you like this? Fucked you like this with their tongue, leaving you coming three times in just five minutes?” My voice was low and menacing, laced with the bitter jealousy that still simmered beneath the surface.

Arianna’s moans grew higher-pitched as I resumed my relentless assault, thrusting my finger deep inside her once more. “Answer me, baby,” I demanded, my free hand tightly grasping her thighs, my grip almost bruising in my fervor. “No one makes you come like this but me. You will come a fourth time if you don’t confess the truth.”

Her enraged glare only served to inflame my desires further. The sight of her struggling beneath me, desperate to break free, nearly sent me over the edge. But I held steady, refusing to relent until she submitted to my demands. This was my dance, my rhythm, and she would learn to move in perfect harmony with me.

The wild, untamed shriek that tore from Arianna’s throat was music to my ears, a testament to how close she’d been. One more thrust, one more decadent stroke, and she would have shattered, but that wasn’t the game tonight. Not yet. I pulled away completely, the sudden loss of friction a cruel blow that instantly stole her climax. Her beautiful eyes, wide and bewildered, bulged in their sockets, that perfect scream dissolving into tortured whimpers as she gasped, desperate for the release I’d just denied.

“Please don’t…I can’t,” she choked, struggling for air, her slender body twitching with frustrated need. The sight of her, so utterly undone, made a slow, possessive smirk spread across my face. She was a masterpiece of raw desire, all for me.

“Please, what? Don’t stop?” I challenged, my grin widening as a soft, guttural growl escaped her lips. A tiny, furious kitten, so obviously enraged that I was toying with her, treating her body like a prized piece of meat. God, she was exquisite when she was feral.

She tried to claw at me, her delicate pink nails, today adorned with glitter and tiny butterfly stickers, flashing against my skin. So fragile, so futile. With a single, easy motion, I pinned her down, my large hand engulfing both her wrists, pressing them together above her stomach. Her struggles were pathetic, endearing. She was completely at my mercy.

“Still not answering?” I murmured, leaning in until my lips hovered just above hers, our noses touching. The scent of her – a mix of honey and arousal – filled my lungs, intoxicating me. I loved watching her squirm beneath me, the way her face scrunched in a futile fight for oxygen, her chest heaving. So utterly, perfectly adorable.

I brushed my mouth against hers, a soft, teasing kiss. Her lips tasted like the sweetest honey, and I flicked my tongue against hers in quick, possessive kisses, enjoying the way she struggled to catch her breath. I could feel her heart hammering against my chest, a frantic drumbeat of longing.

“Just say who is doing this to you. Who is making you come?” I pressed, my voice a low rumble against her lips, my grip on her wrists unyielding. I needed to hear it, needed her to acknowledge my absolute power over her. “If you are a good girl, Arianna, I will let you come again.” The implicit threat, the promise of withheld pleasure, hung heavy in the air.

Frantically shaking her head, her mind clearly clouded by the relentless craving, she struggled to form a coherent reply. “No, Vincent, I…” she searched, her thoughts fragmented. Then, a low moan, a plea. “Don’t stop.”

A soft, possessive bite to her earlobe was my retaliation, a gentle mark of ownership. The woman who consumed my every thought shivered violently under me, a desperate gasp escaping her. Her moans grew louder, more frantic. “Don’t tease me, Vincent. Please…” I heard the raw sob in her voice, a sound that twisted something dark and primal inside me. She was crying. And for a fleeting, agonizing second, I hated myself, hated the tears I had brought to her eyes. God, I was such an asshole, but an asshole with a purpose.

“Tell me, Arianna,” I begged, the word a soft exhalation of my own need. I needed her submission, needed to hear her say it so I could give her what she so desperately craved.

Her eyes, glistening with tears and desire, finally locked with mine. A moment of true surrender. “Please make me come. I’m yours, Vincent. Only you,” she pleaded, finally regaining a hold of herself.

The words were a potent elixir, burning through me. Forcing myself to move away, just barely, without breaking her gaze, I dove back inside her, my tongue a hot, slick arrow sliding down her channel to her clit. Her body was mine to command, every inch of it.

“Such a good girl,” I praised, a victorious smile stretching my lips as Arianna let out a strangled gasp, her hips arching off the sofa.

“Yes, yes, yes. Yes!” she chanted, lost in the rising tide of sensation. There would be nothing left of her after this, nothing but trembling satisfaction. I pulled back, licking my fingers clean, then placed them on the edge of her swollen slit, stroking and caressing her soft pussy in slow, agonizing circles, teasing, building, keeping my fingers moving in a relentless, hypnotic rhythm.

When she groaned loudly, a primal sound, and her body began to twitch uncontrollably, I lowered my head, sucking her clit deep into my mouth, pumping her hard with my fingers. Her pussy convulsed around them as I hit that perfect spot, her entire body rigid with pleasure. She came again with a guttural scream, a wave of ecstasy so intense it almost made me feel faint, my fingers buried deep inside her slick, spasming cunt, claiming every last tremor of her release.

Panting, I pulled out, my own body thrumming with the aftershocks of her climax. I kissed every inch of her creamy body, a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control over myself, over the raw, overwhelming desire she ignited.

As she slowly regained her breath, her lungs still gasping for air, I crawled back on top of her. My hand found the delicate curve of her neck, my grip firm, possessive, as I locked my jaw with hers. My tongue explored every crevice of her mouth with intense, hungry fervor, wanting her to accept me fully, to allow me the most intimate connection, the absolute surrender she could ever offer.

I felt her little hands flutter against my bare chest, a faint push, a weak protest. This time, I let her. I moved slowly, deliberately, giving her space as I slid her shirt up. My eyes, dark and heavy with desire, locked with hers.

I focused on the delicate butterfly tattoo just under her left breast, a splash of fragile beauty that was still, maddeningly, covered by her bra. I wanted to peel off every layer, tear down every inhibition, but I wouldn’t scare her away simply by taking. Not yet. I would take my time with her, show her that my patience was as endless as my craving.

My gaze still fixed on the tattoo, I leaned down, kissing the spot softly. My teeth gently grazed her skin, a tiny, possessive bite before I pulled away, staring intently at Arianna. Her hands had stopped struggling, her heartbeat picking up its frantic rhythm from the subtle claim.

“You really are gorgeous,” I murmured, a genuine smile touching my lips as her cheeks flushed a vibrant red. God, her reactions were always so endearing, so utterly sexy. And honestly? I wanted nothing more than to claim her fully, to possess every inch of her. But that, I knew, must happen some other time.

“You’re really the worst, you know that?” she grumbled, pushing herself up, her body still trembling faintly from the searing pleasure I’d just given her.

I smirked, leaning back. “But you still begged me to make you come, little rabbit. So I think we are even now.”

She shook her head, a hint of steel in her eyes despite her lingering vulnerability. “You’d better watch yourself, Vincent,” she warned, her voice surprisingly firm. She stood, gathering her clothes from the floor, pulling them on hastily as if to shield herself from my gaze, from my power.

She turned, already halfway to the door, when I caught her hand, my fingers closing around her wrist. With a swift, possessive tug, I twirled her around to face me. A startled yelp echoed through the room as my arms wrapped around her slender waist, pulling her flush against me, our bodies pressed together, heat radiating between us.

Her flaming cheeks were unmistakable as she tried desperately to avoid my eyes, my mouth, every place my body touched hers. “I have to go home,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she attempted to push against my chest.

I simply stared at her for a few more seconds, relishing the feeling of her against me, watching the internal battle play out across her expressive face. She was fighting herself, fighting me, but I already knew the outcome.

Taking a calculated pity on her, I cupped her chin with my palm, gently forcing her to meet my gaze. “I’ll take you home.”

She looked shocked at my words, then a small, relieved smile touched her lips. “Thank you,” she breathed. And I knew, with a certainty that thrilled me to my core, that this was just the beginning.

She was mine, in every way that mattered.