Been Loving You Too Long (24 page)

Vincent folded the letter and dropped it back into the box, idly poking through the other contents.
 
Thomas was more sentimental than he’d ever realized.
 
There were parts of what she’d told him that he just couldn’t process.
 
It was too painful.
 
So, he hung on to the one thought that allowed him to continue. “So, he waited until the last minute to be certain he’d have the last word.”

“Yes.
 
Which is typical of him,” she agreed.
 

“I think we should get out of here for a while. If you feel that you’re up to it, by all means, his wishes should be carried out and by someone who understood him so very well.
 
But if it becomes too much, don’t torture yourself with it.”

“I won’t—I’ll work on it here and there.
 
It was just overwhelming today, after everything else.”

Vincent cocked an eyebrow at her. “What else happened today?”

Ophelia could have kicked herself then.
 
She hadn’t intended to mention anything about her run in with Melina Tate, but the cat was out of the bag.
 
“I had lunch with Brenna today, and as I was leaving, Melina was coming into the restaurant. We exchanged very thinly veiled barbs.”

“I’ve told you there’s nothing between us.”

“And I believe you, but she doesn’t.
 
Or maybe she just doesn’t want to.
 
Regardless, she hinted at the fact that she’s not given up on you yet and that it’s just a matter of time until you get bored with me and start looking for a change of scenery.”

Taking her hand he led her from Thomas’ room and toward their own.
 
“You do know that’s bullshit, right?”

“Logically, yes.
 
But when you’re being told those things by a woman who has never seen a double digit dress size in her life, it does sting just a little bit,” she admitted.
 

Vincent stopped her there in the hallway and pressed her back against the wall.
 
“If I had wanted Melina Tate, she made it glaringly apparent that I could have her.
 
But I didn’t, because all I could think of was you.
 
Because for the last few years you have been insidiously burrowing into my mind, until the only woman I could think of was you—I dreamed of you,” he said roughly.
 
“I ached with the need for you.
 
How I resisted you for as long as I did is a mystery to me.”

“I didn’t know—if I’d known, had even the slightest inkling, I would probably have stripped naked and thrown myself at you,” she replied ruefully.

“It’s never too late,” he prompted.
 

Feeling emboldened, Ophelia reached for his tie, and clutching the silk, led him into the bedroom. “We’ll explore that later.
 
But first, you have to tell me what happened at the office today.”

Vincent told her about the accountant.
 
He recounted the suspicions that had been raised, that Claude had been using phony vendor accounts to siphon money from the company for years.
 
“I suspect that the real reason he wanted to broker a deal with DuChamps Hotels and Tate Textiles was to cut costs in that budget and repay some of the moneys taken from elsewhere.
 
He’s just been playing a shell game all along.”

“I realize that he’s your cousin.” Ophelia turned down the sheets, “But I just don’t see Claude being smart enough to pull this off.”

“When it comes to numbers, I’d say yes, he is.
 
He’s a math genius even if he is socially, well, limited.
 
But the strategy of it leaves me puzzled.
 
Claude just doesn’t work that way.
 
There’s a lot of blustering and bullying, but this has just been too subtle for him to be the mastermind of it,” he agreed.
 

“Do you think Marvin Tate is involved?”

He’d considered it.
 
He needed to find out more about the financial woes that had befallen Tate Textiles to be able to answer that.
 
“How do you feel about going to a charity event?”

“Not the Bachelor Auction,” she said, shaking her head.
 
“The meat market?
 
Really?”

“On the upside, we’re recently married and no one will be upset if we aren’t involved in the bidding.
 
I think this could be a good opportunity to corner Marvin and talk to him without Claude being present, or maybe an opportunity to confront them together. Whether he’s involved or not, he and Claude are thick as thieves, and he knows something.”

Ophelia sighed and lay back on the bed.
 
“Fine, but if you leave me alone with that woman, I may very well scratch her eyes out.”

He laughed.
 
“Now that’s a ticket I’d buy.”
 

“Pig,” she sneered.

“Man,” he corrected.
 

“One and the same,” she fired back.
 

Vincent moved so that he was above her, his weight braced on his forearms and his face only an inch from hers.
 
“Is that attitude I’m getting from you?”

Ophelia smiled, “That depends on whether or not I’m getting a spanking for it.”

“I’ve created a monster,” he said, just as he nipped at her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin and eliciting a soft moan from her.
 

“Yes, you have—and like all monsters, at some point, I’ll have to be restrained.”

Vincent smiled and reached for his tie, loosening it and slipping it free from his collar.
 
There were restraints in the closet, velcro straps that they would play with at some point, but he rather liked binding her with his ties.
 
It was another way to show his possession of her.
 
“I’m prepared to do whatever’s necessary.”

~~****~~

Ophelia shuddered and held her hands out eagerly.
 
Had anyone told her that she would enjoy being bound and spanked she would have thought they were out of their minds.
 
But it was Vincent, and everything he did to her was exciting.
 

“We’re going to change it up just a little bit,” he said, and instead of simply securing her wrists to one another, he looped the tie through the headboard and then secured her hands individually.

It was much more restrictive and it created the tiniest spark of panic inside her, but that was the point, she thought.
 
It was about ceding control to him completely.
 
Her whole life, she’d maintained control of herself, her actions.
 
She’d never disobeyed, had never pushed the boundaries or broken the rules.
 
Was it any wonder that it excited her so to have him take charge in the bedroom, to tell her what the rules were and what was expected of her?
 

Watching him as he looked at her left her feeling hot and achy.
 
With her clothes still on, she wondered how he planned to proceed.
 
But even as the thought crossed her mind, he was shoving her skirt up, revealing her legs and the delicate lace of her panties.
 

He didn’t remove any of her clothes, but settled himself between her parted thighs, his mouth hovering above her mound for just a moment, just long enough to make her squirm with anticipation.
 
A restraining hand on her belly halted all movement, and she waited breathlessly.
 

~~****~~

With his free hand, Vincent traced the lacy pattern of her panties, touching her everywhere but the shadowy cleft which he knew was already wet and eager for him.
 
Inhaling, he drew in the spicy scent of her, savoring the knowledge that he could make her that eager without even touching her.
 
Angling his head lower, he allowed his breath to fan over her, the lightest of caresses over sensitive skin.

She shivered in response, her hips arching involuntarily, seeking a more satisfying connection.

To him, it wasn’t about satisfaction.
 
It was about delayed gratification.
 
It was about making them both so blind with need that they couldn’t speak, couldn’t think of anything but their mutual pleasure.
 
He wanted her pleading and incoherent, desperate for him.
 

Pressing his face against her, he nuzzled her gently.
 
Each touch, each caress was an exercise in patience and control.
 
He wouldn’t hurry, and he would not allow her to rush him.
 
Even as she strained against him, he continued that gentle assault.
 
Rather than remove her panties, he touched her lightly through the lace, skimming his fingertips along her damp cleft while pressing tender open mouthed kisses along her inner thighs.
 

“Vincent, please!”

He smiled against her skin, but didn’t acknowledge the plea in any other way.
 
With a feather light touch, he pressed a soft kiss against her slit.
 
He kept her hovering on the edge with light teasing touches, until she was writhing under him.
 
Rather than removing her panties, he tugged them up, until they slid between the damp folds of her sex, parting her, opening her to him.
 

The slight abrasion of the lace against the sensitive bud of her clit had her gasping.
 

Looking up, he saw that her eyes were tightly closed, her lips parted on a soft moan, and her hands twisting the silk of the tie in a fevered attempt to hold onto something, anything, as the pleasure built.
 
“Tell me what you want, Ophelia.”

“I can’t take this,” she cried.
 
“It’s too much.”

“Should I stop then?” he asked, knowing what her answer would be.
 

“No!
 
God—no!
 
But please, just hurry?
 
You’re killing me,” she added breathlessly.
 

Sliding two fingers past the bunched lace of her panties, he penetrated her slowly, savoring the hot clutch of her flesh around him, knowing that soon he would feel that same exquisite pressure surrounding his cock.
 
He loved that she thrust against his hand, that for a moment in time she became wild, wanton, with no thought of being well behaved or proper.

Curling his fingers forward, he pressed against the spot that he knew drove her wild.
 

Her body shuddered in response, tremors wracking her from head to toe.

Slowly, deliberately, he placed his mouth against her cleft, his tongue lashing at the hardened bud of her clit through the barrier of lace.

She screamed his name, her body convulsing violently beneath him as she came.
 

Vincent rose to his knees, lifting her hips until the lush curves of her ass rested against his thighs.
 
Without any regard for them, he ripped the panties, rending them completely, and tossed them aside.
 
Pressing the head of his cock against her entrance, he took just a moment to savor the damp heat, to enjoy the feeling of her slick flesh parting for him.

He moved slowly, pressing into her inch by inch, savoring the heated clutch of her flesh as he sank into her.
 
It was like that every time.
 
Physically, nothing he’d ever felt compared to it.
 
But it wasn’t just his body.
 
It was so much more than that.
 
Being with her, touching her, losing himself inside her made him feel whole in a way that nothing else ever had.
 

Lifting her hips more firmly against him, he didn’t thrust into her, but rocked his hips slowly, creating a delicious friction between them.
 
When she locked her legs around him, pulling him even closer, he had to fight the urge to just pound into her.
 
As good as it would feel he wanted it to last.
 
Keeping the thrusts shallow, and using his body to press against her clit, he kept her hovering on the brink of another orgasm.