Page 80 of Missing Piece
“Harder,” Adam begged, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Vincent’s laugh was dark and pleased. “Look at you, begging me to wreck you.” His pace increased, thrusts becoming more forceful. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about? Me fucking you until you can’t remember your own name?”
“Yes,” Adam sobbed, his whole body strung tight with need.
Vincent’s hand fisted in his hair, pulling his head back so Adam’s moans echoed freely in the room. “I want to hear you. Want to hear every sound you make when I’m inside you.”
Adam cried out as Vincent’s other hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. But the pressure was just shy of what Adam needed, keeping him balanced on the knife’s edge of release.
“Harder,” Adam begged. “Please, I need—”
“Not yet.” Vincent’s grip in his hair tightened. “You come when I say you can. You’re going to wait for me.”
Adam could feel the Vincent trembling above him, hear his breathing becoming ragged as his fangs brushed over Adam’s skin. Vincent’s thrusts became harder, more erratic, his control finally starting to fray.
“Bite me,” he moaned, surprising himself as the words left his lips.
A low growl escaped Vincent’s lips as he gave in to Adam’s plea. His hips snapped forward, driving himself deeper into Adam as his fangs sank into Adam’s shoulder. The beast within him took over, each thrust harder and more possessive than the last.
Adam shattered, his orgasm tearing through him with devastating force. His vision went white, his body convulsing as he spilled over Vincent’s hand and onto the sheets below, Vincent’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.
Vincent followed him over, his hips snapping forward one final time as he buried himself deep and came with a low growl of satisfaction.
They collapsed together, Vincent’s weight pressing Adam into the mattress for a long moment before he pulled out and rolled them both to their sides. His arms wrapped around Adam from behind, pulling him back against his chest.
“Are you hurt?” Vincent asked breathlessly into his hair. “Was that too much?”
Adam could barely speak, his body still humming with aftershocks. “No.”
Vincent’s arms tightened around him, his cool skin a comfort against Adam’s overheated body. “Mine,” he whispered into Adam’s hair.
“Yours,” Adam whispered back, his eyes shut as the dangerous warm feeling settled low in his abdomen again. He knew what it was, but it scared him.
He was falling in love with a century-old devil who had started this whole thing by drugging and kidnapping him. But there was something fitting about that being how he would find someone he actually had real feelings for, knowing that they were not clouded by pills and misinterpreted.
He just did not know how he would ever bring himself to say it.
Chapter Thirty - Vincent
The scent of sizzling ground beef was somewhat enticing, even to someone who hadn’t eaten a meal in nearly one hundred years. Before, the scent of food—human food—irritated Vincent’s nostrils and made his face itch like when he had allergies as a teen, but every day there was a new scent coming from his kitchen, something being whipped up by Petrov or Matteo since they found his human’s fondness of peanut butter sandwiches and canned peaches to be deeply disturbing. Adam insisted that those two things, mixed with his sudden insatiable desire for candy and sugar-coated cereal, were “like ninety percent of the food pyramid”, but no one was convinced.
And for some unholy reason, Vincent decided he wanted in on it. Despite the fact he had been the kind of cook that could burn soup before he was turned.
I should be planning. Tariq will be here soon with the address.But he’d been pacing for hours, waiting. At least this kept his hands busy.
«Flip it over now, but don’t squish it,» Matteo signed from beside him before placing his hands back on his hips like he was a judge on a cooking competition, just waiting for Vincent to fuck it up so he could yell at him.
«That’s what they do on TV,» Vincentsaid, casting him a sly smile as he grabbed the spatula.
Matteo shook his head. «Only heathens do that. I will kick you out of my kitchen if I see you do that.»
«My kitchen too. All our names are on the deed, last I checked.» Vincent noticed the slight tremor in Matteo’s hands as he signed back, barely perceptible, but there. His friend was holding on, but barely.
Matteo leaned against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Vincent with those too-sharp eyes. «You seem happier these days. It’s a good look on you.»
«Fuck off.» Vincent shook his head, fighting the urge to turn away from Matteo so he would still be able to see whatever smartass response he came up with.
«Vincent, I love you, but I know what you’re going to do,» Matteo said, his smile falling as the weariness settled back onto his face. For a moment, his control flickered, his pupils dilating before he blinked hard and regained focus.
