by Tim ORourke
Chapter Thirty-One
I selected a track and placed the iPod back into the dock. There was a moment of silence before the track started.
In that silence, Vincent said, "What song did you choose?"
"Shhh," I hushed softly, placing a finger against Vincent's lips.
Slowly, the song I Want To Know What Love Is by Mariah Carey filled the room. It was my turn to take Vincent in my arms. I pulled his coat from over his shoulders and held him close.
"I thought we were going to eat Jammie Dodgers?" he whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my cheek.
I held him closer. Just like we had the night before, we swayed in each other's arms as the music swept around us. Again, those feelings of being needed washed over me. I felt safe in Vincent's arms and I realised I had never felt so much for someone so quickly before. Sure, I had felt an instant attraction to men in the past, but this was more than just mere attraction. I still didn't know what it was I liked - or felt for Vincent. But there was something and it felt new, like something I hadn't experienced before. Were these the first feelings of love I was feeling for him? That was impossible, right? No one fell in love that quickly - that stuff only ever happened in movies and books.
Vincent slowly ran his fingers through my hair. It wasn't a desperate grab or fumble, but slow, as if he were relishing the feel of each strand passing between his fingers. I looked up into his dark eyes. Vincent wasn't handsome, not like one of the pretty boys. He didn't have studs hanging out of his face, and wasn't hiding behind a skin of tattoos, like so many of the guys I'd been with before. However strange Vincent could be - I got the feeling he was just being himself. Maybe that's what I liked about him. Perhaps there was a secret confidence - belief in himself - hidden deep within, which I found attractive. Vincent hadn't pretended to be something that he wasn't - he had always been true to himself, however clumsy and shy he came across at times. There was no pretence - macho bullshit with Vincent. If he could be true to himself, wouldn't he then always be true to me?
The music continued to envelop us as we held onto each other. I thought of how he had held me last night. He had been true to his word. He had stayed with me all night long and kept the nightmares away. He hadn't taken the opportunity to take it any further. He had been happy just to hold me in his arms all night long. I remembered what it was he had said, just before I'd fallen asleep.
In his arms, and as we danced slowly to the music, I looked at him and said, "What did you mean last night?"
"What was that?" he looked at me.
"When you said, you knew what it feels like to be scared and alone?" I said.
"Let me ask you a question?" he said, ignoring mine.
"Okay," I said.
"Why did you choose this song?"
Pressing my cheek against his so I didn't have to look in his eyes, I sang softly along to the words of the song. "I want to know what love is. I want you to show me. "
I felt my feet slowly lift off the floor as Vincent swept me up into his arms. With the song playing all around us, Vincent carried me into the bedroom and laid me gently on the bed. I pulled my sweater off and eased my jeans and panties over my hips and down my legs. I lay naked on the bed and watched him in the dim light that spilt into the room from behind the door. With his back to me, I watched Vincent take off his clothes. Although his body was lean, it was well-toned and muscular. His skin was pale. It was then I saw a crisscross of white scars over his shoulders and down his back. Although healed, I could see that at some point in his life, they must have caused him great pain.
"Come here," I whispered, holding out my hand towards him.
Vincent turned, and naked, he came towards me. Taking his hand in mine, I gently eased him down onto the edge of the bed so he was sitting with his back to me. Slowly, I ran my fingers gently over the maze of raised scars that covered his back. I leant forward, and brushing my lips lightly over his skin, I kissed the scars. I wanted to take away the pain they must have caused him. Vincent sat in silence, his back straight, as the music bled in from the other room.
. . . In my life there has been heartache and pain. . . I don't know if I can face it again. . . the song continued.
"What happened to you?" I whispered, as I brushed my lips over his back.
Vincent reached round and took my hand in his. Looking at me in the semi-darkness, he said, "It doesn't matter now," and laid me gently back onto the bed. Vincent leant over me, our noses almost touching, and it was then I noticed a jagged-looking scar running along the right side of his forehead, just beneath the hairline. I reached out, gently running my fingertips along the length of it. Vincent took my hand away, brought it up to his lips, and kissed my fingers. He slowly kissed each one, his eyes closed. He gradually worked his lips over the back of my hand, down the inside of my wrist, and along my forearm to the crook of my elbow. Each kiss felt like my skin was being caressed with a feather. He seemed to be taking his time, enjoying every moment. There was no rushing here. No frantic groping, pushing and pulling, and for the first time in my life, I didn't feel as if I had to take control of the situation. Vincent, in his own passive way, was very much in control. I closed my eyes and relished the touch of his lips as they slowly brushed over my breasts. I was enjoying Vincent taking his time, and I didn't want it to end.
I felt the tip of his tongue trail over the flat of my stomach, then he paused to breathe over that little wet trail he had left behind. My skin tingled, my stomach muscles tightened. With his hands, Vincent started to trace tiny circles on the tops of my thighs as he worked the tip of his tongue over my tiny patch of hair. I eased my legs slightly apart, just enough. Vincent sensed this, and with his fingertips still making skin-tingling circles now on the insides of my thighs, I felt the tip of his tongue roll gently down between my legs.
I sighed, and arching my back, I opened my legs just a little more. Vincent took advantage of this, and I felt the tip of his tongue enter me. I gripped the bed sheets with my fists. He moved his tongue slowly, almost deliberately, as if not wanting to rush, to savour and enjoy every moment. Not wanting it to end. Letting go of the sheets, I ran my fingers through his short, black hair.
Vincent slowly withdrew his tongue and I groaned out loud. He brushed the tip of it over the inside of my right thigh, down the inside of my leg, my calf muscle, and then over the top of my foot. It was as if he didn't want to leave one part of my body untouched by him. No man had ever spent this much time caressing my body before. Gently, he rolled me onto my front, my hair spilling down my back. I felt Vincent's mouth again as he worked his way back up the length of my body, his tongue leaving a cool damp trail behind him. My flesh prickled with rising excitement as he covered my arse in kisses. Slowly, he slipped his fingers between my buttocks and between my legs. The tips of his fingers gently stroking the place where, minutes before, his tongue had been exploring. I pressed my face into the pillow to muffle my sighs of pleasure, as I felt his fingers slide slowly inside of me. He eased them in and out, the crown of his thumb making circular motions against my clit. He worked his thumb slowly, as if understanding how sensitive that part of my body was. Vincent knew how much pleasure he could bring me by touching me there. While he massaged me with his fingers, he leaned over and covered my back, shoulder, and neck with kisses. I turned my face against the pillow so I could see him. His face was just inches from mine. Not wanting to break the growing sensation he was building with his hand between my legs, I twisted my shoulders slightly, so my face was fully turned towards his. We kissed. His lips were firm but somehow still soft against mine. Vincent ran his tongue over my mouth, then slipped it gently between my lips. I could taste myself on him, and it excited me. With a gradual but ever-growing speed, Vincent continued to move his thumb in that circular motion as his fingers slid faster and faster inside of me.
A well of heat spread out from my stomach, warming every part of me. The music continued to play in the background as my hear
tbeat sped up, my fingertips and toes tingling with growing pleasure. With the heat, wetness, and feeling of unimaginable pleasure growing deep within me and between my legs, it became so consuming, that I had to break our kiss. I buried my face in the pillow again as every muscle in my body locked tight. The feeling of sexual pleasure was like nothing I had felt before, and I tried to hold onto it for as long as I could, my skin feeling as if it had been set alight. Suddenly, my body gave way to a series of turbulent spasms which rippled throughout me.
I screamed out, my back arching, drawing myself up onto my knees as I trembled and shook on all fours.
"Vincent!" I cried out. "Please don't stop. "
With my body still reeling from the aftershock of the orgasm that I'd had, Vincent rolled me onto my back, and pushed himself into me.
I cried out again, throwing my head back and arching my body so he could push himself deeper into me. Vincent groaned. Dropping onto his elbows, my legs locked around his back, he looked down into my face and said, "I never want this to end, Sydney. I want to stay locked inside of you forever. "
Looking up into his face, I wanted to tell him I loved him, but that was just stupid, right? I couldn't be in love with him. Wasn't I just in love with what he was doing to me? The music filtered in from the other room.
. . . I want to know what love is. . . I want you to show me. . . the song played all around us like a wall of sound, shutting the rest of the world out. It felt like it was only us who were truly alive at that moment in time. I didn't want to share it with anyone else other than Vincent.
Maybe the intense feeling I was sharing with him was love? I'd certainly never felt anything like this before. It was more than just lust, that needing, yearning to come - it felt deeper than that with Vincent. I felt a deep, overwhelming happiness inside, as strong as the feelings of sexual ecstasy which had just torn through me. Was it such a deep sense of happiness, love? If it was truly love, it was the first time in my life I had felt it. I couldn't tell Vincent that, however much I wanted to. I was too scared.
"Hold me," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his back, pulling him deeper into me. "Don't let go. "
"I won't," he said, moving himself back and forth on top of me. "I won't ever let you go. "
I ran my hands up and down his back, gripping his butt as it moved slowly but firmly up and down.
"Harder," I whispered in his ear, smothering his shoulders, neck, and face in kisses.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered back, his hips moving faster and harder.
That well of burning built within me again. I clung to him, wanting him. "Harder! Faster!" I cried.
Vincent pushed deeper into me, both of us now groaning. We clung to each other, our bodies hot and covered in a fine sheen of glistening sweat. The music seemed to grow louder as if competing with our cries of pleasure. It felt like the walls of the room were closing in on me, pressing us closer together. My head spun and my heart raced faster and faster in time with Vincent's rapidly increasing thrusts. That pit of heat in my stomach exploded outwards, making every one of my nerve endings seethe with life. I bucked beneath Vincent as my body convulsed uncontrollably.
"I love you," he cried out.
"I love you," I whispered breathlessly, as his whole body seemed to lock, then spasm in my arms.
"You have no idea how long I've loved you, Sydney," he murmured as both our bodies weakened and we collapsed into one another's arms.