EPILOGUE

Vaughn

From Cora’s devilish smile and heavy breathing, she clearly loved when Vaughn spun her in the middle of their dance. Fast or slow, she kept up easily, and thrived on close proximity. He loved her flushed cheeks, messy hair, and light sheen across her chest.

Because that was the way she was—one hundred percent with everything she did.

All or nothing.

The fresh sea air blew in from their back patio door, giving them more room for their sensual dancing lesson. Of which she didn’t need any. She was as much a master as Vaughn.

Miami had plenty of Latin dancing venues, and reminded him of where they started.

He dipped her back over his arm, and relished her breasts straining against her dress. They begged for a kiss.

Vaughn lowered his lips to her skin, just where the fabric dipped into the cleavage, so sweet and delicious. He moved over to one plentiful mound, and stole a nibble over her dress.

She grabbed the sides of his head, and her smile had his dick stretching even more.

The music stole his inhibitions, and Cora stole his heart.

She crushed her lips to his, and yanked his shirt from his shoulders.

He shed himself of his clothes, and used his eager fingers to slip her out of her dress, letting it drop to the floor. Then with one hand, unclasped her bra and let her breasts burst free.

Cora stood there in only her strappy black heels, and a lace thong. Her hair piled high on her head, with several strands falling loose from the clip.

Without invitation, he lunged for her, and fused his body to hers. His expert fingers glided down her stomach, into the hem of her panties, and swirled the already swollen nub. He knew every inch of this woman by heart, and knew exactly how to make her beg and writhe in delight.

She bucked into him, and nibbled on his lip. Her moan sent him into overdrive, and he ripped the thong off her body.

“Damn,” she breathed.

“Exactly.” Vaughn dropped to his knees, and buried his face between her legs. Her clit needed expert attention, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Cora draped one of her legs over his shoulder, and dragged her fingernails along his scalp. Her gasp mixed with the music in a delectable melody he couldn’t get enough of.

He swirled and laved that bud into submission, using an occasional nibble to make her flinch and yelp. In not long at all, she exploded, and her creamy essence filled his mouth in an exotic dessert made especially for him.

Vaughn rushed to stand, and slipped his cock inside her, feeling the last remnants of her orgasm clench around him. Combined with the lazy bite of her lip, she was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. His slow rhythm increased in tempo, and the frames on the bookshelf shook and rocked.

The one frame just to the side of her head contained the picture of her receiving the National Medal of Arts from the president the month before.

Both she and Tom stood next to the leader of the free world, in meritorious recognition for their significant contribution to the art society. The pair of them were the toast of many art societies, not to mention numerous Holocaust ancestor groups. Now admired by the world, and he just loved looking at her in that silver dress.

Almost as much as he loved this hot-as-hell look on her face. He plunged into her wet center repeatedly, restraining himself until he could get a second climax from her.

From her breathy pants and higher pitched moans, she was close.

Vaughn grabbed her ass, and rolled his pelvis under her, pitching her hips back, and rammed home.

Cora screamed his name, pulling on his hair in an exquisite pain. And burst on that last tidal wave of pleasure.

Which sent him over the edge. His sac tightened up into his body, and he spilled himself in her sheath, her spasms milking him of every drop.

His knees buckled, and they slid to the floor. She shifted on top of his lap, and fought to catch her breath. Sweat glistened off her glorious body.

Vaughn littered kisses across her face, and massaged small circles on her lower back. “You know I love you, right?”

Her smile shattered him all over again. “You better.”

“Tell me what I want to hear.”

She kissed his lips, running her tongue along his. “I want another round.”

He lightly pinched her ass cheek. “Try again.”

With a chuckle, she sat back, and cupped his face. “I love you, Vaughn Ayers.”

She’s it. My North Star.

The music stopped suddenly, and her computer switched over to another song, the speakers now blaring “Gorilla,” by Bruno Mars.

“What the…” Cora walked over to her desk on the other side of the room, and pressed a few keys on her laptop. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?” He grabbed his pants, and started to get dressed.

“Tom, I’m going to kill you.” Her glare nearly cracked the screen.

“Tom?”

“Ever since he won that stupid Hackathon contest and successfully broke into the Department of Defense, he’s been showing off. The prick hacked my laptop.”

Vaughn froze. “Wait, do you mean he can see through the camera?”

Cora cast a knowing stare, but didn’t answer.

He couldn’t help himself. He started laughing. Then flipped off the camera. “Didn’t take you for a voyeur, shithead. Congrats on the Vital Mission.”

“I’m cutting that bastard off.” She pulled her dress on, and went to unplug the laptop. Probably to destroy it, or God knew what else the passionate Latina intended.

Vaughn caught her arm, and pulled her away from the electronics. “A very simple solution, at least for now.” He grabbed his shirt, and threw it over the laptop. At least the kid couldn’t see a thing through the camera anymore. “Admit it, love.” He kissed her forehead. “You secretly like your little brother bugging you, now that he’s not working for you.”

“He’s more annoying now.”

“Just like brothers should be.”

“Just wait and see what I can do to his equipment with some paint cans.”

He chuckled. “I’d actually pay to see that.”

Cora pulled away to down another glass of wine. Above the bar hutch hung her uncle’s painting of the stone bridge over water, Kromlau Brücke. The one salvaged from Conway’s private black market collection. Now, finally returned to its rightful owner.

The song changed again, to “Love So Soft,” by Kelly Clarkson. An upbeat rhythm worthy of the best cha-cha. Or even a rhumba.

The best truce they were going to get from Tom.

Vaughn started to sway his hips, leading Cora into the steps.

She stared back, her glare starting to soften. Eventually, she relented, and let him lead her through another sensual rhumba, starting another round of delicious foreplay.

“I finally found the perfect dance partner.” He dipped her low, letting her circle around his thigh, and her hair skimmed the floor.

When she came back up, she scraped her hand down the back of his head. “One who keeps you on your toes.”

THE END