Just because something is your destiny doesn’t mean it won’t destroy you.
I fold my legs in front of me and wrap my arms around my knees as my gaze tracks his movements in the dim light. He paces like a caged predator in a zoo, desperate for a way out. I don’t say anything as I continue to watch him. This always plays out the same way, and I figured out it’s better to be patient a long time ago.
Vin crawls into the bed without asking for permission, and I scoot over to make room for him. He lies on his side on top of the blankets behind me while one hand wraps around my waist to haul me back against him. His open hand rests heavily against my stomach, forcing me down with pressure that is just on the wrong side of too much.
Spooning is supposed to be a romantic thing, but he manages to turn it into a punishment. That has always been a talent of his, taking something good and twisting it into a thing that I both love and loathe.
We lie together in the dark until our breathing is in sync. I try to take slower and shallower breaths, because I hate that it is so easy for our bodies to become a perfect match. But there isn’t any use trying to fight it. Our chests rise and fall together, his breath tickling the back of my neck as he exhales.
An hour passes in silence, but neither of us have fallen asleep. Every place his body touches mine burns. My muscles are clenched and taut as he forces me back against him, but his proximity compels me to relax even as I wish it wasn’t the case.
Our hearts might be at war, but our bodies have a mind of their own.
I only wear a t-shirt to bed most nights, maybe throwing on a pair of sweatpants when it gets particularly cold. Pajamas are a luxury I simply do not understand. I can’t imagine spending money on clothes that I never wear outside the house.
The hand that has been still on my stomach this entire time shifts to my hip, stroking down the bare skin of my exposed thigh. His lips touch the back of my neck, so softly it makes me want to cry.
But I won’t call it a kiss, refuse to even think that word. Despite everything, despite my fear, the one thing we never do is kiss.
Vin Cortland doesn’t kiss anyone.
When his mouth shifts away, it leaves a flash of heat across my skin, one that refuses to fade away. He rubs my thigh in small circles for long enough that it almost lulls me to sleep. When his fingers grip my skin hard, I let out an involuntary sound that isn’t one of pain.
His hand finds the damp crotch of my panties, and he exhales sharply against my neck. Moments like this are the only time when he is ever gentle, touching me in a way that is slow and deliberate.
Almost reverent.
I could fight him off if I really wanted. If I screamed or said no and pushed him away, then he would leave. He isn’t here to force me. It would almost be easier to deal with if he were. Knowing that I could end this, and I still don’t, makes it so much worse.
I don’t say yes, but I don’t say no.
Because I don’t say anything at all.
My silence is also my consent.
He pulls my underwear to the side. One thick finger pushes inside me, and my body uncoils until I sink into the mattress. The moment I’ve been anticipating since I first woke up with him in my room is finally here.
It’s never as bad as I imagine it will be, as part of me hopes it will be. I think he does that on purpose, building up suspense until I can only focus on what he might do next.
A second finger joins the first. Vin works them in and out of me, curling just slightly on the downstroke to brush against the little ball of flesh inside of me that is so sensitive the pleasure borders on pain. He watches my face as he pulls out and uses the gathered wetness on his fingers to draw circles around my clit, sending sparks of painful pleasure down my spine.
I turn my head and squeeze my eyes shut so he won’t see whatever emotion hides behind my gaze. He continues to tease me, using his fingers like implements of destruction as he strokes and thrusts. It is the most exquisite sort of torture.
I both love and hate it.
Similar to how I feel about him.
I keep my body still, even as my breathing comes faster and in sharp little gasps. God forbid I actually give him what he wants, a sign that I want this. He needs me to confirm that he doesn’t climb into my window at night because he is some pervert who knows he can get away with abusing the girl that doesn’t have anyone left to protect her.
He has to convince himself that I want this as much as he does.
Vin keeps going until I’m on the very edge of climax as stars burst behind my closed eyelids. Then his fingers slide away, leaving a trail of moisture on the inside of my thigh. He leans back, which leaves me feeling cold, like I’m standing next to a fire that just went out.
I hear the familiar sound of foil ripping, but I don’t turn to look as he unwraps the condom. This is my last chance to raise a protest and make him stop. He moves more slowly than he needs to, almost leisurely as he pinches the center of the latex circle and then
