Chapter 18

Isabella

I drop my face to my fist as we pass familiar areas, and Vance remains silent on the drive home. His lips are drawn tight in a frown, and I'm surprised he's not in a better mood. He got to get off, unlike me.

"That was stupid, Bella. You know that, right?" he finally says.

I shrug. "No one noticed anything. Relax."

His dark eyes jump to mine. "Yeah, but if they had, we'd both be dead. Why is being a dirty fucking girl worth more to you than your life? Or my life."

My eyes narrow. "Because I don't want to make my future husband come. I want to make you come."

"You think I didn't want to slip my hand up your skirt and fuck you with my fingers until you came in front of your future family? But I didn't, because I'm old enough to realize that I can do that for you at home, when we aren't in a place with far more guns than I have on me."

I scoff. "I'm not a child, Vance. I'm old enough to realize it too. But I needed to put my hand on you. The flame of jealousy in your eyes drove me crazy."

I wanted his jealousy to pour out of him and onto my hand. The frustrating pleasure on his face made me hunger for his come.

Not mine.

His.

"You wait till we get home, little girl. I'll show you the real definition of need."

His words make my mouth gape. He sure knows how to say things that make me a sopping wet mess. My mind goes to him between my legs, to his expert tongue licking at my clit. It makes me want to tug my panties aside and fuck myself with my fingers to calm the ache.

We pull into the underground garage at my house. Vance still looks irritated, but there's something more in his expression as well. Something feral.

He walks around the car and opens my door. The intensity in his dark eyes makes me uncomfortable, but his menacing smirk only excites me. Warm breath rolls over my neck as he leans toward my ear.

"Go inside, and by the time I'm in there, you better have your panties off. Do you understand?"

My eyes round. "Yes, daddy," I whisper.

He can't touch me in this garage—there are cameras everywhere—and the tremble to his hands says he's fighting the urge to do exactly that.

I walk across the garage and head inside. I don't hear him following, but I know he will. When I close the door behind me, the familiar scent of home welcomes me. The silence, however, is far from familiar.

I raise the hem of my dress and slip off my panties, then I open the door again and hang the black fabric on the outside doorknob before closing it once more.

Where the hell is he?

I pour myself some red wine and sit at the island, growing impatient with each sip. He's taking his sweet time because it's mental foreplay. He knows I'm thinking about what he'll do to me with every aching breath as I sit in my kitchen, pantyless and alone.

The door finally opens and slams, and his overbearing form fills the room. A tight expression pinches his face, but he pulls his hand from his pocket, opening his fingers to reveal my panties in his grasp. When he smirks, I know I'm in for it.

He makes his way across the kitchen in record time, taking my hair and balling it into his fist, then stuffing my panties into my mouth. The taste of my wetness slides across my tongue.

"Such a bad girl, Bella. You know that, right?"

I breathe through my nose, throwing him a quick nod. I am a bad girl. If I wasn't, I wouldn't be trying to get my rocks off with my bodyguard.

He puts himself between my thighs, my dress riding up and bunching against my hips. His hand drops between us, and he puts his warm fingers against my bare skin. An electrical bolt of energy pulls a gasp past my lips, and I nearly swallow my damn underwear.

Vance leans into me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "I've never needed to make someone come as much as I need to make you come right now. I want to feel you around my hand so I can imagine it was my cock instead."

He pushes two fingers inside me and stretches me before he fills me up to his knuckles. Before I can gasp again, he pulls the panties from my mouth and silences me as his lips spread on mine in a fiery kiss.

Even though his lips are just on my mouth, I feel them everywhere else. My skin lights on fire as he pulls out and plunges inside me again, harder and faster with every thrust. He ingests my moans, taking them inside him and swallowing them.

I tilt my pelvis to grant him better access, and it sends him just a fraction deeper. A strong, almost painful feeling blooms deep inside me. I whimper against his mouth, and he inhales those sounds, too.

He's showing me the true definition of need, just like he promised. He selfishly fucks me with his fingers, ignoring my pain as he forces pleasure from me.

"Have you ever squirted before?" he asks, drawing his lips away enough to let my breath escape and dance along his words.

"No," I whisper. I don't think I could, anyway. It seems like something they do in porn and shit. Not real life.

"Another first I can take?" he growls. "Grip me with your hands."

This seems dramatic, but I listen to him, mostly because his hand is buried inside my pussy and I don't want it to stop. I grip the sleeves of his suit jacket, and he fucks me harder, faster, and deeper than I ever thought I could handle.

The growing heat in my gut erupts, and I'm overtaken by an intense urge to bare down on his fingers. I draw my abdomen in, and the pressure intensifies. To put out the fire inside me, Vance pulls his fingers from me and releases a gush of liquid. An intense orgasm washes over me, extinguishing any blaze that remained after what just exploded down the front of Vance's pants.

I've never felt such a thing. I'm squealing like a pig being slaughtered, I know that, but I have no control of the sounds I'm making or the quaking of my body. As unattractive as I feel, Vance seems to love it.

"Good fucking girl," he says, and it soothes the waves inside me, leaving a calm surface.

"Will you please fuck me?" I beg.

I need more. That force from his hand is something I could never mimic myself, not even with toys. I want to feel that strength inside me. I want his cock to rearrange my insides even more than his fingers did.

Vance smiles down at me, and I know it's a no. I can see it on his face. But he loves that I asked.

He loves that I begged for it.

"You know I can't fuck you. I'm already way outside of my job description with my hand buried inside you like this."

Fuck his job description. Where is it? I'll rewrite it to say Keep Isabella happy at all costs, even if that means fucking her senseless before she gets married to an asshole.