Chapter 18

Vincent

It was evening now and Gemma was on her back, with her bare legs open as I slid my face down to her knees. The fireplace was lit, and the flames caught the smokiness in her eyes. She lifted her head to look at me and then gently put it down again on the carpeted floor.

Half a glass of wine dangled from her hand, and she took another long sip. I licked the inside of her thigh, where her skin was the softest to touch. She purred and swirled the glass around in her hand.

“You went to Yale,” she murmured softly as I licked the other thigh. She tasted like honey and peaches, a sweet delicious taste that tingled my taste buds. The scratches on her knee from the thorns she had run through in the morning had turned into bright pink scabs now, and I caressed them.

“I did, indeed,” I said, meeting her glazed-over eyes. She drank some more wine and I watched as her reddened lips stretched to a smile.

“I can’t even imagine that. What it would be like to go to a school like that,” she said, moving her hips. I traced the shape of her legs with my fingers, before settling my hand on her exposed belly. She was still in my shirt that she had put on in the morning. She was floating in it; it was too big for her. But she insisted that she was comfortable when I offered her a change of clothing.

“It was all right; I made some friends for life,” I said, as I stroked her tight belly. She was beautiful to touch, to have in my arms. Her hair was spread around her face in rich dark curls. She was the most awe-inspiring thing I had ever set my eyes on. I wanted to bite into those lips.

Gemma laughed when she heard me say that about my friends. Her laughter was becoming more and more common to hear now. Her hardened demeanor from the previous days was softening. Either way, she was just as beautiful and mysterious. Despite all this time we were spending together, she was still a puzzle to me.

“I’m sure it was more than friends you made at Yale, Vincent. I’m sure your college has something to do with your success, too,” she said, laughing still. Every time she smiled, she sent shivers down my spine. Her laughter was infectious, genuine and humble. I felt like I could be completely honest with her.

I regretted not being honest with her sooner. I should have known better. Gemma Ramsey wasn’t like any other woman I knew, and I should have treated her differently from the beginning. But I was grateful that she was trusting me again.

“Yes, look at where I am now. I have you naked under me, and all we’re doing is talking,” I said and tickled her belly. Gemma giggled, and I pinned her down with a hand. I felt her legs squeeze around me as I slipped down farther between them so that her sex was in front of my face now.

She was so wet for me, dripping wet with no panties to act as an obstruction between my tongue and where I wanted to reach.

She wriggled as I held her tight and brought my face closer to her. Gemma was moaning already, moving her hips in anticipation as I stuck out my tongue, growing closer and closer to her wetness. When I licked her, she arched herself up, closing her eyes.

I licked her again, delicately, just to tease. The glass of wine fell from her hands and it spilled all over the carpet.

“Shhh… don’t worry about it,” I said when I saw her eyes fly open with guilt.

I pinned her back down and this time thrust my tongue deep into her. Gemma moaned, wriggling under my grip.

“Vincent …” She said my name like it was a song, and I thrust in deeper. I knew where I had to stroke her to make her come, and I found it easily with my tongue. I used one hand to stroke her clit, while I kept pushing my tongue into her as far as I could. Gemma was shaking, spreading her legs wide apart for me now so that I could truly and completely consume her.

She tasted as delicious as I had predicted and I wanted to be inside her completely, make her come. I wanted to possess her, and never had I wanted someone else to feel this good. My priority was to make her have an orgasm, have multiple orgasms. Watching her writhe and scream with pleasure made me rock hard. I could come just from watching her.

I pushed my tongue in deeper, keeping my fingers on her clit, playing with it.

When I felt her weave her fingers into my hair, I knew it was time. She came instantly, and I kept driving my tongue in, just like my cock had before. She shook as she came, screaming out my name, clutching my hair in her hands tightly.

When her voice died down and her breathing began to subside, I finally slid my tongue out of her. She was spent again, lying on the carpet with her arms spread out around her. She had her eyes open and was staring at the ceiling, breathing hard.

“Why are you smiling, Gemma?” I asked, hauling my body up so I could lie down beside her. She tried to control her breathing first before she turned to me, her cheeks flushed from exhaustion, her eyelids drooping. She was ready to pass out.

“Because I’m happy, Vincent,” she said and I drew her into my arms. She may not have told me much about herself, but one thing I knew about Gemma Ramsey was that she made me happy, too.