Page 48 of Forgotten Sacrifice
He hones in on the bandage covering my ribcage tattoo—a look of rage washing over his face for a split second. Why, I don’t know. He silently reaches down and peels off the bandage; his expression now unreadable as he takes in my new ink.
I glance down to see what he sees, except my eyes catch something else—Vince has an erection. A huge erection.
“Vince,” I breathe, only because my voice seems to be failing me at the moment.
His good eye works its way up my body and locks with mine, the tension so thick I’m afraid it will suffocate me. “I hope your little furlough was worth it, because you’re on lockdown from here on out.” Vince spins around and stalks out.
Taking in a shaky breath, I walk to my room in complete shock. Vince was hard. Why was Vince hard?
Grabbing my phone, I search for angry boners. Turns out it’s a real thing and has nothing to do with arousal. As for why my pussy is wet, I frantically search for an answer, feeling relieved when I read an article from a shrink about how the body can confuse fear with arousal.
Tossing my phone on the bed, I pace back and forth before deciding that Vince and I need to have a chat. Not about angry boners and fear/arousal confusion—those two things shall never be discussed—but because if Vince thinks he’s going to keep me cowering in a suburban cage, he’s mistaken.
Marching to his room, I knock on the door.
Silence.
I knock again.
More silence.
I try the handle and it opens. Stepping inside, I can hear the shower, and while I should leave, this is the first time I’ve seen hisbedroom, and I’m nosy. There’s not much personality to this room, but the same can be said for the entire house. No family photos. No personal mementos. I have no idea who Vince the man is, other than Parisi family bookie.
A loud moan startles me. I know I should leave, but curiosity gets the better of me, so I sneak over and place an ear to the bathroom door.
“That’s it, Luna,” Vince calls my name, and I place a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.
My mind spins. My nipples pebble. My pussy clinches.
“Fuck, Luna, I’m coming!” Vince roars, and I tiptoe-sprint out of his room, closing the door quietly behind me as I race to my room.
Leaning against my door with my chest heaving, I reach my hand down my shorts and strum my throbbing clit, swallowing my cries of pleasure as I come.
Vince wants me, and he’s pissed off about it.
As for me touching myself after the shower incident, I refuse to believe it’s because I want Vince, butifI did, I’d be pissed off about it too.
Stepping out of the shower, I squeeze my hair out and wrap a towel around my body, exiting my room and walking down the hall.
Vince is on the couch watching a game, and I ignore him as I stroll to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I bend over to take a look at the bottom shelf.
“Don’t walk around my house in a towel,” he says with disgust, now standing in the doorway.
I turn around to face him. Unhooking my towel in the front, I ignore my jackhammering heart as I let it drop to the floor. “Better?”
We both stand rooted in place, the air so heavy I can barely breathe. Vince’s nostrils flare as his good eye roams over my naked body, my nipples pebbled so hard they ache.
That same look of disgust spreads over his face as he storms out of the kitchen.
I smile triumphantly. Vince can pretend he doesn’t want me all he wants, but those gray sweatpants don’t lie. Grabbing a soda, I shake my naked ass to my room.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you lay a chess trap.
Vince
I feel so out of control with Luna, it scares me. Grabbing my phone, I text my fuck buddy.
If you want our arrangement to continue, get over here now.
