Deflower

Chapitre Vingt-Six

Lourdes grinned, but her saccharine laughter was cut short when the taller individual pulled her closer and filled the gap between their two bodies, connecting his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. The cold tiles of the bathroom, which she was gently pressed against, felt cold against her skin and made her shiver but she didn't really care at that moment. All she cared about was that male that was before her—not her mother, not Allistair, who was perhaps seeking her furiously. Their breathing weaved together in a heated, helpless allegro—although soft as ever, there was certain impatience and hunger to the kiss that neither could explain.

Following the chaste peck of her lips, Lo's lips parted, yearning for every inch of him to explore her. How Vincent had expected that Lo would recoil, that she would draw away from the kiss—she didn't. And the male wished he could resist but he couldn't, tangling insistent fingers within her locks, pulling them gently by where they rooted. As the two of them delved deeper into their sinful act, Vincent didn't permit his bestial instincts to take over him—sure, he prized dominance, but much more did he want to experience unfathomable intimacy and softness given by the manner his lips molded with hers, for he had within his hands what he prized the most of all he had known in his life. Lourdes was at full vulnerability and a clouded fever hazed her senses—drowning everything but the image of an animalistic appetite— when his fingers began to fiddle with the buttons to her blouse, and she allowed him to undo them after he had asked if that was alright.

She was exposing herself, her scars to him, and he was caressing them like they were God, himself—but though she would have expected to be insecure, she didn't even mind it. Not under his eyes, anyways. And more so, Lo didn't think twice of the uppermost celibacy she'd promised to live in, to her parents, or the way they would perhaps send her off to some sort of institution for unruly adolescents if they found about this, because there was one thing, only, ricocheting through her mind. His lips, his eyes, his hands, his hair. She wanted to touch it all. Vincent was delicate and beautiful but brattle and harsh at the same time, sucking her bottom lip between two rows of beautiful teeth, biting on the delicate flesh so hard she was afraid it would begin to bleed.

Slipping his tongue further and further, the small girl fell deeper into his chest, brushing her half clad body into it. Captivated by the depths of her eyes, it appeared he was insatiable when it came her scent, her taste, her feel. Long, slender fingers gently curled around her throat as she took in the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Then, the taller male buried his face within the crook of her neck, slowly and purposefully trailing his tongue across the skin of her neck once he had withdrawn his hand from it. He marked the flesh of her her neck with his teeth—claiming her body as his own—and soft movements soon manifested into less gentle caresses.

Vincent eagerly devoured the sight before him as she was unhidden by a bra—his thumb travelled down one of her breasts. The soft skin beneath his fingers dared him to move further and he lowered his mouth to her hardened nipples, causing a lewd moan to push past her lips, a red color flushing her cheeks being its sole companion. He sucked on the sensitive flesh, harder, and he was content with the way that braille appeared on her skin. It was his name that filled her mouth like honey and she shamefully, quietly, moaned it out. The young brunette took a shaky breath, and Vincent didn't hesitate to reconnect his lips with hers.

Whilst his mouth pursued to cherish her lips, it were fingers slipping under her dress that caused those brown eyes of hers to widen. Inching dangerously high, they slipped atop the fabric of her underwear and the boy grinned—appearing to revel in the way Lourdes trembled at the contact he made with her clothed center. Before he could continue any further—before he would make her bend and break and shatter but cherish her—he withdrew his lips from hers, speaking after a plethora of heavy breathing and sharp gasps. "Are you sure that you want this, baby? I don't want to pressure you to do anything you don't want to." A crimson tint scorched against her cheeks—it seemed to her that she'd lost all boundaries. Hell, the way her back arched when he touched her and the weak sounds of pleasure that drove him on told her so much.