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Saviour
folder
1 through F › Fast And The Furious, The › Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,456
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Fast And The Furious, The › Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,456
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own The Fast and the Furious, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
A warm hand slipped under the hem of her sleep shirt. Stirring in her sleep, she turned onto her back, flinging her hand over her eyes. Fingers stroked the inside of her thighs tenderly, and she moaned from the soft, feather light feelings the touch invoked in her. She knew who the hand belonged to. She knew every knot in his strong, sensual fingers; knew every callous and curve - she’d studied them enough. Now they were strumming her body like a well thumbed guitar.
“Vince…” The name tumbled from her lips as he slid his fingertips against the already damp material of her panties.
“Sssh, no words. Just feel me. Let me touch you.”
And he did.
Working his way under the edge of her panties, he ran a fingertip down her engorged slit. When he growled, she smiled to herself. She knew his finger was wet, slick with her juice. She was primed for him, ready as she’d every been and all he’d done was use one, small fingertip.
Her mouth went dry, her heart beat erratically in her chest as Vince ripped the tiny scrap of material from her body. She couldn’t look at him. A mixture of embarrassment and fear that he would stop had her keeping her eyes firmly closed. But she could sense him, smell him.
“You have a beautiful pussy.”
It was her turn to groan. His words turned her on to the point of pain. She attempted to squeeze her thighs closed, attempted to ease the pulsing ache. Vince wouldn’t allow her. His hands parted her thighs wider, opening her too him.
“Just one taste…” His breath tickled her thighs.
As he leaned down, she captured a fist full of his hair in her hand and drew him closer.
“Yes…” The word a whispered caress as his lips touched her…
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Confused, Scarlet shifted the arm from her eyes.
The noise came again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Reality came rushing back as she realized the noise wasn’t coming from her room, but outside, hitting the window. She looked down. No Vince between her thighs, just a huge damp patch on her panties and nightshirt.
Great, just a dream. An intensely erotic one, but still just a dream. No real Vince about to go down on her. She gave a mental scream at the sexual frustration coursing through her veins.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Okay, okay. I’m coming already.” She muttered to herself as she rolled out of bed and padded over to the window.
Looking out she saw a tall, dark figure. Moonlight spilled from behind a cloud, illuminating the figure’s face. It was Vince. Standing in her back yard, he was throwing small stones at her window - a trick he’d pulled numerous times over the years. He held up his hand and gave a small wave, motioning her down.
Slipping her feet into a comfy pair of clogs, she grabbed a robe, pulling it over her shoulders. Silently, she slipped out of the house. The night air was warm and balmy. Vince sat on the porch smoking a cigarette. Scarlet sat down beside him. His presence heavy beside her; masculine, sexual, especially with the dream so vivid in her mind. He never failed to make her breathing hitch.
She sniffed and caught the heady scent of musk - women’s musk.
Sneering she turned towards Vince. “You smell like sex.”
He locked his gaze on hers. Throwing his cigarette down, he stubbed it out with the toe of his boot. Leaning close to her, he inhaled the scent at her neck. Scarlet closed her eyes, revelling in his heat.
When he pulled back, it was his turn to snarl. “You smell like Leon.”
She sighed. So this was how it was going to be. “Then I guess we’re even.”
They listened to the sounds of the night. Leaning back, Vince rested his elbows on the top step, pushing his long, lean legs out in front of him. He looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling in the moonlight.
“You remember that time, about five years ago? When you were fifteen or so? When that guy put his hand up your skirt. The look on your face…fuck, I can still remember the surprise, the shock. You remember that time?”
Inclining her head in his direction, she watched the tick beat wildly in his jaw. How could she forget? She remember every moment they’d spent together since she was eight years old. “Yeah, I remember.”
She remembered how scared she’d been. Excitement was her first emotion. It was her first date. The guy was a couple of years older and she felt so mature, going out with an older guy. Then things had got out of hand, he’d wanted more than she could give. Scared and shocked she hadn’t been able to get out of his slimy grip. It was Vince who saved her. He dragged the guy outside and beat the shit out his pretty face. After it was done, when his hands were covered with blood and flesh, he’d come to her. A fifteen year old Scarlet had wiped the blood from his skin, put ice on his busted knuckles and slept in his bed, wrapped in the comfort of his arms.
“What happened, Scarlet?”
She took a deep breath before she answered. “I grew up.”
And fell in love with you. So far in love it hurts deep inside.
“No, I mean what happened to us?”
Feeling his gaze, she returned her eyes to his. “I grew up.”
The intensity in his eyes made her blink. “I know.”
She didn’t recognize the emotions in his eyes. Lust? Pain? Regret? Love? She dared not hope it was any of those things. She couldn’t keep laying herself open to the pain he caused her when he took up with another skank.
Tilting her head back she looked up at the stars. Swallowing, Scarlet suppressed the need that was on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to tell him so much. She wanted to tell him she loved him.
Vince sniffed. “So…I better be getting back. Just wanted to check on you. We alright?”
Now Scarlet, it’s now or never. Tell him.
She watched as he raked a strong, masculine hand through his hair. She watched the muscles bunch and flex in his arm, watched his tattoos dance across his skin. An image of him tunneling his hand under a blonde’s skirt flashed in mind. In an instant she saw him with different women, saw him doing drugs, drinking, partying. And in that instant she knew he could never be the man she needed him to be.
Pushing herself up from the porch, she gave Vince a soft smile. “Yeah, Coyote, we’re alright.”
A warm hand slipped under the hem of her sleep shirt. Stirring in her sleep, she turned onto her back, flinging her hand over her eyes. Fingers stroked the inside of her thighs tenderly, and she moaned from the soft, feather light feelings the touch invoked in her. She knew who the hand belonged to. She knew every knot in his strong, sensual fingers; knew every callous and curve - she’d studied them enough. Now they were strumming her body like a well thumbed guitar.
“Vince…” The name tumbled from her lips as he slid his fingertips against the already damp material of her panties.
“Sssh, no words. Just feel me. Let me touch you.”
And he did.
Working his way under the edge of her panties, he ran a fingertip down her engorged slit. When he growled, she smiled to herself. She knew his finger was wet, slick with her juice. She was primed for him, ready as she’d every been and all he’d done was use one, small fingertip.
Her mouth went dry, her heart beat erratically in her chest as Vince ripped the tiny scrap of material from her body. She couldn’t look at him. A mixture of embarrassment and fear that he would stop had her keeping her eyes firmly closed. But she could sense him, smell him.
“You have a beautiful pussy.”
It was her turn to groan. His words turned her on to the point of pain. She attempted to squeeze her thighs closed, attempted to ease the pulsing ache. Vince wouldn’t allow her. His hands parted her thighs wider, opening her too him.
“Just one taste…” His breath tickled her thighs.
As he leaned down, she captured a fist full of his hair in her hand and drew him closer.
“Yes…” The word a whispered caress as his lips touched her…
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Confused, Scarlet shifted the arm from her eyes.
The noise came again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Reality came rushing back as she realized the noise wasn’t coming from her room, but outside, hitting the window. She looked down. No Vince between her thighs, just a huge damp patch on her panties and nightshirt.
Great, just a dream. An intensely erotic one, but still just a dream. No real Vince about to go down on her. She gave a mental scream at the sexual frustration coursing through her veins.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Okay, okay. I’m coming already.” She muttered to herself as she rolled out of bed and padded over to the window.
Looking out she saw a tall, dark figure. Moonlight spilled from behind a cloud, illuminating the figure’s face. It was Vince. Standing in her back yard, he was throwing small stones at her window - a trick he’d pulled numerous times over the years. He held up his hand and gave a small wave, motioning her down.
Slipping her feet into a comfy pair of clogs, she grabbed a robe, pulling it over her shoulders. Silently, she slipped out of the house. The night air was warm and balmy. Vince sat on the porch smoking a cigarette. Scarlet sat down beside him. His presence heavy beside her; masculine, sexual, especially with the dream so vivid in her mind. He never failed to make her breathing hitch.
She sniffed and caught the heady scent of musk - women’s musk.
Sneering she turned towards Vince. “You smell like sex.”
He locked his gaze on hers. Throwing his cigarette down, he stubbed it out with the toe of his boot. Leaning close to her, he inhaled the scent at her neck. Scarlet closed her eyes, revelling in his heat.
When he pulled back, it was his turn to snarl. “You smell like Leon.”
She sighed. So this was how it was going to be. “Then I guess we’re even.”
They listened to the sounds of the night. Leaning back, Vince rested his elbows on the top step, pushing his long, lean legs out in front of him. He looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling in the moonlight.
“You remember that time, about five years ago? When you were fifteen or so? When that guy put his hand up your skirt. The look on your face…fuck, I can still remember the surprise, the shock. You remember that time?”
Inclining her head in his direction, she watched the tick beat wildly in his jaw. How could she forget? She remember every moment they’d spent together since she was eight years old. “Yeah, I remember.”
She remembered how scared she’d been. Excitement was her first emotion. It was her first date. The guy was a couple of years older and she felt so mature, going out with an older guy. Then things had got out of hand, he’d wanted more than she could give. Scared and shocked she hadn’t been able to get out of his slimy grip. It was Vince who saved her. He dragged the guy outside and beat the shit out his pretty face. After it was done, when his hands were covered with blood and flesh, he’d come to her. A fifteen year old Scarlet had wiped the blood from his skin, put ice on his busted knuckles and slept in his bed, wrapped in the comfort of his arms.
“What happened, Scarlet?”
She took a deep breath before she answered. “I grew up.”
And fell in love with you. So far in love it hurts deep inside.
“No, I mean what happened to us?”
Feeling his gaze, she returned her eyes to his. “I grew up.”
The intensity in his eyes made her blink. “I know.”
She didn’t recognize the emotions in his eyes. Lust? Pain? Regret? Love? She dared not hope it was any of those things. She couldn’t keep laying herself open to the pain he caused her when he took up with another skank.
Tilting her head back she looked up at the stars. Swallowing, Scarlet suppressed the need that was on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to tell him so much. She wanted to tell him she loved him.
Vince sniffed. “So…I better be getting back. Just wanted to check on you. We alright?”
Now Scarlet, it’s now or never. Tell him.
She watched as he raked a strong, masculine hand through his hair. She watched the muscles bunch and flex in his arm, watched his tattoos dance across his skin. An image of him tunneling his hand under a blonde’s skirt flashed in mind. In an instant she saw him with different women, saw him doing drugs, drinking, partying. And in that instant she knew he could never be the man she needed him to be.
Pushing herself up from the porch, she gave Vince a soft smile. “Yeah, Coyote, we’re alright.”