Page 62 of Kept

I nod, furiously sliding my fingers across myself, the steady sensations from his cock in my ass sending goosebumps down my spine and my toes curling.

I think I may need to come more than I ever have in my life.

“Are you going to come with my cock buried in your ass?” he growls.

Oh, fuck. I nod.

“Say it!” He plants a spank across my butt.

“I’m going to come!”

He spanks me again. “Where is my cock, kitten?”

“It’s in my ass.”

Spank.

“Oh my god.”

Spank.

The words are barely out of my mouth when my whole body seizes up, lights flash behind my eyes, and I forget to breathe. The single most all-consuming orgasm of my life crashes down on me. I barely register it when Vincent sinks deep inside of me and roars, filling me with his come.

We’re frozen like that, his cock still in my ass, still jerking with violent spasms after his own release. He slowly slides from my ass and rolls us over, pulling me into his strong arms. He’s whispering against my hair. I can’t understand what he’s saying, but then my foggy brain clears enough to know it’s in Italian. He kisses the top of my head.

“You do realize that I have no idea what you’re saying, right?”

He chuckles. “Yes.”

“Oh, so long as we cleared that up.”

He sighs. “I need you to take your own safety seriously, Sarah. It is very difficult to protect someone who doesn’t want to be protected.” He tilts my chin up to look into my eyes, the warmth I find in his gaze soaking into my soul. “Never do that again, kitten.”

I sniffle. “Yes, sir.”

Then he slips me off his lap and onto the plush mattress before walking into the bathroom. I hear the shower start. Vincent reappears and pulls me to my feet, leading me into the bathroom.

CHAPTER 32

Vincent

After a long, hot shower, of which at least the first ten minutes consisted of pulling out a surprising number of bobby pins from her hair, I kill the water and begin to dry her off with a warm towel before carrying her back to bed. I pull one of my old, soft t-shirts out.

“Arms up, kitten,” I tell her. She immediate raises them, and I slip the shirt on her. It might as well be a dress for how big it is compared to her tiny frame. “Stay,” I order, pointing at her seat on the bed.

As I walk out of the room, I hear a “woof.”

Good girl. Her resilience is impressive. I grab a large bottle of water and fill a glass with two shots of vodka. Returning, I hand it to her.

She looks at me confused. “I don’t want a drink.”

“It will help you sleep. You need to sleep.”

“But—”

“Drink, kitten.”

She obediently downs the vodka, and then makes a face of disgust. “Blech, I hate straight liquor.”

---