“Amanda.” My voice was rough. “Can I ask you a question?”
She rolled to her side to look up at me, and the neckline of her dress gaped as her boobs pressed together. Sweet mother Mary.
“Of course. You can ask me anything.”
I cleared my throat. “Are you wearing pantyhose or a garter? It’s been killing me all night, looking at your legs and wondering. I know I won’t get to find out for myself tonight, so humor me. Give me something for the spank bank.”
“Hmmmm.” One of her eyebrows quirked up. “Which would you find more . . . interesting?”
“Oh, come on,” I groaned. “Don’t make me choose. Just tell me.”
“What if I said neither?” Her fingers curled around the end of her dress, and slowly she began tugging it up. “I don’t like pantyhose. And garters can be uncomfortable sometimes. So when I have to wear stockings, I like . . . these.”
The green material moved out of the way to reveal a wide band at the top of the sheer black hose, which gave way to her creamy skin and then a hint of red lace.
Suddenly, my driver’s seat wasn’t so comfortable.
“You trying to kill me? Jesus God, woman. Look at you.”
“Sorry?” She sounded anything but.
I scowled, but a plan began to form in my mind. At the next intersection, I hung a sharp left and floored the gas, hugging the curves that took us off the main road and closer to the beach.
“Where are we going?” Amanda pushed up onto her elbows and peered out the window. “This doesn’t look like how Mom and I drove down from the hotel.”
“It’s called a detour, sweetheart.” When she tilted her head questioningly, I added, “Don’t worry. I’m not dragging you off into the woods for a quick fuck.”
“That’s a relief. I think.” She took a deep sniff, frowning a little. “Are we close to the ocean?”
“Yep.” I pulled into a small dirt lot. “This is Dawman’s Cove. Carl and I used to come down here sometimes to fish when we were kids. Well, more than kids . . . after Carl got his license and could drive us. It’s quiet, and not that many people come down here.” I turned off the car and stuck the keys in my jacket pocket. “C’mon.”
“Wait. Where are we going?” Amanda scrambled to sit up. “Vincent, it’s fucking cold out there. I don’t have a coat or anything. Just this little wrap. I’m going to freeze.”
“I’m not going to let that happen, baby.” I jogged around the car and tugged her out of her seat. “We won’t stay out here long. I just . . . I want to kiss you under the stars tonight. I want to hold you in the dark and hear the ocean pounding and believe in crazy things like eternity and forever.”
Her eyes were luminous as she closed her fingers around mine. “Vincent, just when I think you’re one thing, you shock the hell out of me and make me realize you’re something else.”
I laughed. “Don’t give me too much credit. I’m just not sure I’ll make it back home tonight in one piece after seeing what’s under your dress, and I need something to tide me over, since I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to see you again.”
She hesitated only a second before I knew she’d acquiesced. Keeping my hand firm on hers, I led her through the dark, down the uneven wooden plank walk until we were on the edge of the small secluded beach.
“Tide’s high,” I observed. “Plus, if I make you walk on the sand, you’ll break your ankle in those shoes.”
“You’re probably right.” She was breathless. “It’s so dark and quiet here. If it were summer, we could go skinny dipping.”
The image of Amanda dancing naked in the waves was enough to push me over the edge. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her body against mine until there wasn’t a breath of space between us. With one hand, I gathered the skirt of her dress up until her leg was bared. My fingers skimmed over the top of her stocking and then under the lace of her panties.
“Vincent.” She moaned my name. “What’re you doing?”
“Making a new memory for you, baby. I want you to remember how good we can be. Once you get back to the city and return to your real life tomorrow, you’re going to start to second-guess everything we talked about tonight. You’ll began to doubt what we said. I figure maybe I can give you a reason to believe in me.”
Bending my head, I covered her lips, tasting what I’d been craving for the past three months. Her tongue met mine, and as I stroked the inside of her mouth, I dragged my fingers over the wet and swollen folds between her legs. Her breath hitched, and she canted her hips to rock into my hand.
“God, Vincent.” She mumbled against my lips. “What do you do to me?”
“I make you feel good, babe.” My thumb pressed into her clit, and she cried out, gripping my shoulders and letting her forehead drop onto my chest. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers, right here, and you’re going to come hard.”
She made some kind of undecipherable noise that was either consent or denial, but she didn’t pull away from me. I slid two fingers inside of her and pumped them hard, gritting my teeth as my cock grew painfully hard beneath the zipper of my fly.
“Vincent.” She was grinding into me now, her eyes closed and her lips open as she chased the pleasure. “God, oh god. Can you—god, harder. Right—right there.” With sharp gasp, she arched her neck, her legs stiffening and locking my hand where it was. I slowed the movement of my fingers, but I didn’t pull them away until she sagged against me.
“Are you cold?” I murmured into her ear as I held her tighter.
She shook her head. “I don’t feel anything right now except pure and unfiltered bliss. I think maybe I’m floating.”
I chuckled. “That good?”
“Mmmmm.” She hummed and lay her head on my shoulder. “But this isn’t fair to you. I’m all about reciprocity, but no way in hell am I getting down on my knees out here.”
“That’s okay. We’ll bank that IOU for the next time we’re together, okay?”
Amanda sighed. “Which will be . . .”
I snorted. “With that kind of incentive promised to me? Soon, baby. It’ll be soon.”
Professor Nesbit wasn’t known for his scintillating lectures, and I’d discovered early this semester that my mind had a tendency to wander once he opened his mouth. I’d begun recording his classes and then listening to them at home later, when I could take frequent breaks and move around the room to keep from falling asleep.
I was mid-way through the recording of his droning monotone talk from the morning session, jogging in place to stay awake, when my phone rang, halting his voice. I wasn’t sure if I should be annoyed by the interruption or relieved by the break. When I saw the readout on the caller ID screen, my stomach turned over.
“Ava.” I dropped onto the couch and ran one hand over the cushion next to me. “Hey, married lady! How’re you?”
“I’m fine. It’s you I’ve been worried about.”
That knot in my middle tightened a little. “Really? Why?”
“I’ve called you three times in the last two weeks, and you haven’t picked up or returned them. Liam and I haven’t seen you since the wedding, and Giff told me today that he hasn’t seen you, either. What’s going on? Are you avoiding us?”
I wrinkled my nose. The short answer to that question was yes. I knew that if I spent any time with Liam and Ava, there was a very good chance that I’d be subject to twenty questions about Vincent and what was going on between us. He’d assured me that he hadn’t spilled the beans to his family, but he’d also admitted that Ava seemed to suspect something and asked him pointed questions whenever they were together.
Giff knew a little more than Ava and Liam did, but I had no desire to dissect what was between Vincent and me—not with my friends, my mother or anyone else. He and I didn’t discuss it; we didn’t put a name on what we were to each other or what we were doing. What we were doing was enjoying ourselves.
I’d been surprised at how much fun Vincent could b
e—and fun was something that had been missing from my life for a long time. As we’d anticipated, time together was hard to find. Both of our lives were insanely busy, between his demanding hours at the restaurant and my classes and job at the law firm. We were two driven people, and we lived an hour and a half from each other. This situation was not optimal, to say the least.
For the first few weeks after the wedding, I’d been a little anxious, worrying that he’d have regrets about us. I spent many a long evening, expecting him to call to tell me he’d changed his mind. But it didn’t happen.
What did happen was more shocking. He texted me—not all the time, but at least once a day, and often enough that I knew he was thinking of me. It was sweet, and each time I saw his name, my heart sped up a little in anticipation.
That was dangerous, and I tried not to think about it too deeply.
The holidays had also played a part in keeping us apart at first. The week after Ava and Liam’s wedding had been Christmas, which I’d spent at home with my parents at my childhood home in central New Jersey, outside Trenton, while Vincent was with his family in South Jersey. He’d texted me in the morning to say merry Christmas, and that night, when I was in bed, he’d called.
“I didn’t get you a Christmas gift.” Vincent opened, as he so often did, with no preamble or lead-in.
I gave a half snort. “Okay. Well, don’t feel bad. I didn’t get you one either. Full disclosure: I figured I could shop the after Christmas sales, since I don’t know when we’ll be together to celebrate.”
“Yeah, well, the thing is . . . I don’t need anything, and I have no fucking clue what I’d buy for you that would mean a damn to you. But I had an idea. Let’s start a new tradition, just you and me. Instead of gifts, let’s exchange holiday orgasms.”
I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. “Oh, Vincent. Only you. All right, so just how are we going to make this happen? Is this another IOU? I think I might be getting in over my head here on what I owe you.”
“No, I think the thing about the holiday orgasm is that it has to happen on the actual holiday. Since we’re not in the same zip code right now, we’ll have to improvise. How do you feel about phone sex?”
My cheeks were warm, which was ridiculous, because no one else was in the room or on the line; only Vincent could hear me. “I haven’t thought about it much one way or the other. If you want the truth, I’ve never done it. Phone sex, I mean.” I paused. “Or holiday orgasms, either.”
“For real? God, baby, sometimes I think you’ve been way too sheltered. Time for us to take care of that.”
“Vincent.” I felt a thrill of wickedness, alarm with a little trepidation. “I’m at home. At my parents’ house, I mean. In my bedroom from when I was a kid.”
“Uh huh. And?”
“What if someone hears me?”
He chuckled softly. “Just keep your voice down. And if you feel like you’re going to scream out my name in ecstasy, grab a pillow to put over your mouth.”
“Vincent . . .”
“Amanda,” he teased. “Come on. I miss you. If I can’t be with you today, this is the next best thing.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “Fine. So how do we begin? Do I just start moaning? Oooooh, Vincent, do me, baby. That’s it . . . right there.”
“We’re having phone sex, not shooting a low-budget porno.” I could practically hear him shaking his head at me. “First things first. What are you wearing?”
I glanced down. “My Christmas pajamas, of course. They’re red, with little Santa kittens all over them.”
“Cute. Take a picture for me?”
I only hesitated a minute. “Hold on.” Lifting up the phone, I swiped for the camera and turned it on selfie mode before I made a face, sticking out my tongue and crossing my eyes. Giggling a little, I hit send.
I heard Vincent’s answering laugh. “Yeah, those are adorable. So are you. But if you’re going to stick that tongue out, I’m going to make you put it to good use.”
“Oh, really? Tell me more.” I snuggled down.
“I plan to do just that. First, though, I need you to unbutton those PJ’s. Doesn’t have to be all the way—just enough that you can get to those sweet tits of yours.”
“You really have a thing for boobs, don’t you?” I remarked as I unbuttoned my top.
“I have a thing for your boobs,” he countered. “They’re pretty damn perfect, babe. Now, are you ready?”
“Unbuttoned as instructed, sir.” I couldn’t help a little sass.
“Ooooh, I like that. Sir.” His voice went soft and throaty. “Put your fingers on your nipple. Just . . . lightly. Don’t get rough—yet. Trace a gentle circle around it. Is it getting stiff?”
“Mmmmmhmmm.” I closed my eyes. “It is.”
“Give it a pinch now. Pretend it’s my mouth sucking that peak hard. Scraping my teeth against it.” There was a rustling on the other side of the phone.
“It feels good.” I trailed my fingers down the slope of one breast and over to the other. “You know, you didn’t tell me what you’re wearing.”
“Boxers. Sadly, mine are not Christmas-themed.” He muttered something under his breath. “And they’re now on the floor.”
“Excellent. Are you . . . hard for me?” I licked my lips, my tongue darting out between them.
“So hard. I’m remembering what it was like that morning in the shower, when you took me in your mouth.”
“I remember that, too. Fondly.” I cupped one breast, squeezing it. “You put your hand in my hair while I was there on my knees.”
“I didn’t want you going anywhere.” I heard a slight strain in his voice, his desire coming at me over the phone.
“But then right as you were about to come, you reached further down and touched my cheek so gently . . . and then you cupped my cheek. It was kind of beautiful.” That had been when my night with Vincent had somehow morphed from just sex into something more.
“If I were there with you right now, in your bed . . . I’d do the same thing. And I’d kiss you until we were both out of breath.”
“Where would you touch me next? If you were here. After you sucked on my nipples until I was begging for more.” I trailed my finger down my stomach.
“I’d lay down between those long legs of yours, and I’d press my lips into your pussy. I’d lick you hard once, and then I’d work you with my tongue and my fingers until you were sobbing for me. Touch yourself there now, baby. Slide your fingers down there and rub your clit.”
I sucked in a fast breath. “Is your hand around your cock? Are you pumping it? If I were with you, that’s what I’d be doing. And I’d lean down to take the head into my mouth, to run my tongue around the crown, and then I’d hold you while I took as much as I could between my lips.”
“Baby.” Vincent sounded strangled. “I wouldn’t be able to take it another minute. I’d roll over with you on top of me, and I’d watch as you sank down onto my dick. Watch your face as I slid into you. I’d see your eyes go soft when I hit that spot—the one that made you arch your back whenever I hit it. And then you’d ride me, moving up and down on my cock, while my hands were on your tits, playing with them and making you say my name—”
“Vincent.”
“Just like that. God, Amanda, fuck. Fuck. I’m going to come. Are you close, babe? So fucking close. I feel like I’m going to explode. God, Amanda—fuck.”
His voice reverberated through the phone, but I was too lost in my own pleasure to pay attention. The orgasm washed over me, wringing every bit of energy from my body, until I lay limp and panting against the pillows.
“Holy shit, baby, that was incredible. You okay there?” He was still breathing heavily.
“Yeah, I’m good. I managed to keep it down here, so I don’t think my parents heard me.” I gasped out a laugh. “Having them run into my bedroom to see why I was being so loud would’ve been slightly mortifying.”
Vincent laughed. “I would’ve enjoyed hear
ing you explain it to them.”
“I’m sure.” I nestled back under the covers. “Speaking of loud, you weren’t exactly using your inside voice when you were calling out my name. Good thing you’re at your own house, huh?”
He gave a little cough. “Didn’t I tell you I was staying over at Ma’s tonight? Ava and Liam are in the next room. And this house is small, so I’m sure everyone heard everything.”
“Vincent!” I shot straight up in the bed. “Oh, my God. Why—oh, my God, you said my name. Your whole family heard you yell my name when you were coming? I’m never going to be able to look any of them in the eye again. Ava won’t ever speak to me, and Liam—he’ll never let me forget it. And your mother is going to hate me before she even knows that you and I are—well, whatever it is we’re doing.”
“Amanda.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Say my name a few more times in case someone down the block from your parents’ house didn’t hear you the first time.”
“Amanda.” He was laughing, damn the man. He was laughing at my humiliation.
“Keep it up. Keep laughing. I’m glad you find this so amusing.”
“Amanda,” he wheezed. “I’m not at my parents’ house. I’m at home—at my house. I was just teasing you. It was a joke.”
I fell back onto the bed. “A joke? I’m going to fucking kill you, Vincent DiMartino.” I paused. “You’re really at your house?”
“I promise, I’m at home. Really. I’d never do that to you, Amanda.”
“Hmph.”
“Hey. Don’t be mad. Didn’t you like your holiday orgasm?”
I couldn’t keep my mouth from curving up. “Yes, I did. Did you like yours?”
“Best one ever. But I’ll let you in on a secret. That was my first Christmas orgasm, too.”
Now, sitting on my couch, I gave a happy little sigh, remembering that night. On the other end of the phone, Ava cleared her throat.
“Amanda? Are you still there? Are you going to answer me?”
“Ummm, yes. I mean, no, of course I’m not avoiding you. I’ve been super busy with classes and work. Maybe you remember that I’m in my last semester of law school. Things tend to get a little hectic.”
Just Roll With It (Perfect Dish Romances Book 4) Page 12