Stone In Love

Chapter 33

Colin disappeared into his apartment when we arrived at the Valentino compound, but I suspected he would have hung out longer if Vincent hadn't been in such a sulky mood. Even Bonnie and Clyde's enthusiastic greeting couldn't wipe the scowl off Vincent's face, and once treats were dispensed, he excused himself to his room and shut the door. I didn't know what I expected when we returned from the party, but it wasn't the cold shoulder. The guy was truly an island unto himself.

It wasn't until I stood in the kitchen chugging water and attempting to reach the ancient clasp on my dress that I realized I would be trapped in the infernal thing all night if I didn't enlist someone's help. I preferred to have Vincent do the honors, but I didn't want to disturb his quiet time, and I damned sure wasn't going to ask Colin. That would go over like a fart in church, as Mr. Pearlman would say. I grabbed my phone and texted Vincent my request, throwing in something about finding a helpful neighbor to unzip me. He could answer if he wanted to.

I had only counted to four when Vincent's bedroom door opened and he strode determinedly out of it, looking like a man on a mission. As soon as he made the journey around the breakfast bar and was standing in front of me, his demeanor had softened, and when I turned around to give him access to the clasp, he appeared to have forgotten what he was doing. I knew what he was doing, he was making me horny, towering over me like that, breathing against my scalp until chill bumps skittered across it. Was he still suppressing his desire? Had he escaped to his room to avoid temptation?

Vincent finally found the clasp, and while one hand was busy with that, the other caressed my shoulder. The goosebumps had to be obvious, and when I felt the clasp give way and the zipper lower, Vincent's hand slid from my shoulder down my arm, dragging the sleeve with it. This was where he paused. It was a long pause, which included a good amount of deep breathing on his part. Apparently, the struggle was real. A moment later, he tugged at the other sleeve until it fell loose. Now, only a tightly strung corset held my breasts at bay, but Vincent avoided that region. Instead, his fingers drifted up and around my neck where he fondled my braids.

"Your hair looks nice like this. It exposes your face and your lovely throat." He spoke just above a whisper as he brought his mouth to my ear to finish his sentiment. "Easy access."

"Vincent." I breathed his name but no other words came to me. I wanted to remind him what happened the last time he accessed my throat. My lips were a perfectly useful substitute, but he was standing behind me, away from my lips. His fingers started moving across my skin, gently caressing and traveling lower until they finally brushed the plump flesh of my breasts. A groan escaped his throat as he traced his index finger across the top of the corset, and he stepped closer so I could feel the bulge of his erection against my back. His hand slid beneath my chin, and he turned my head to claim my lips.

As we kissed, he spun me around to face him, and while his tongue dipped into my mouth, his fingers worked deftly on the ties of my corset. Oh, my. How far would he let himself go? Had he already gone too far? He was still kissing me when my breasts spilled out of their restraints, and Vincent caught one in his hand, prompting another groan, this one deeper and more carnal. He kneaded and stroked me, his fingers tormenting my nipple while I trembled. With his other hand, he tugged my dress further down my waist. I hadn't touched him yet, but the searing heat between us grew as he yanked the unforgiving fabric over my hips.

Once the red velvet and lace sat in a ruffled pile at my feet, all that separated me from total nudity was my ruched panties. This didn't bother me a bit. I wanted Vincent to see what I had to offer. I also knew this was a dangerous game, but my better judgment never heeded my vagina, so I was left with an ache between my thighs that was swiftly consuming me. Vincent's hands roamed my body as if he was searching me for weaponry, and his fingers dipped beneath the seam of my panties, gliding through my drenched cleft.