Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I have not felt this good since the last time he made me feel this good.
His tongue laves my nipple, and my sex clenches with the anticipation that his tongue will soon slide lower, and lower, to that intimate place that craves his mouth.
But he’s not done with my nipples, mercilessly moving from one to the other, licking, nipping, teasing, and I can take no more.
“Luke,” I whisper when I can take it no more. “Please.”
It’s his favorite word. If I say please, he gives me what I want. I remember all too well.
He kisses me, hard and fast, a curve to his lips as he says, “Well, you did say please.”
He lowers to one knee, pressing his lips to my belly, kissing me delicately, his eyes on my face. I swallow hard with the tenderness of the moment, with the look in his eyes, the way he lingers there, savoring me.
My teeth scrape my lip and he laves my belly button, his mouth traveling to my hipbone. He nips the sensitive flesh there, soothing it with his tongue.
When I think I can take no more, his mouth travels lower and lower, fingers sliding into the wet, slick heat of my sex, right where I want his mouth. His fingers slide inside me, his thumb rubbing over my clit. My fingers find the wet strands of his hair and I hold on, preparing myself for what comes next.
He licks my clit, and when I gasp, his mouth closes down on my nub, and already he’s suckling me, driving me wild. His fingers stroke, pump, my hips rocking with the movement. And his tongue, his incredibly talented tongue, is sandpaper one moment and silk the next, stroking me to the edge, then brilliantly soothing the ache. He licks me, strokes me, teases me, taking me to the edge, and then pulling me back, but my body has found its limit. He suckles me just right, and there’s no warning. I’m just there, in that sweet spot, quaking with the most intense orgasm of my life. He takes me all the way there, too—straight to the heart of the moment—before he slows his tongue and fingers, and eases me to a place where I’m done. So done my knees start to buckle.
Luke catches my waist, his powerful arm wrapping around me, holding onto me, preventing my fall. The way I thought he’d hold onto me for the rest of our lives. It’s a dirty thought, the wrong kind of dirty, the kind that muddies up clear waters with muck and misery. I shove it aside and do so easily when Luke pushes to his feet, cupping my face and kissing me, the salty-sweet taste of me on his tongue.
It’s his way of telling me he owns me, and he does. He always has, but it’s a good kind of owning me, the kind he reserves for those times when we’re alone and naked. The kind that is all about making me moan, making me cry out his name, making me want him more every second of every day. I stole his control earlier. He’ll take it back now. He’ll turn me around and fuck me from behind, take me in every way possible, and I’ll like it. Because I’m confident enough in me as a woman and him as a man, to know there’s a line, and we both draw it. And because the only place I can be anything but in control is with Luke.
The only time I can forget, really forget, things like Darius dying right in front of me, is when Luke presses me to get out of my head and in the moment. So now he’ll fuck me and fuck me properly. And I’ll forget. Until it’s over and I can’t forget anymore.
Chapter Fifteen
Ana
Luke does nothing that I expect. He doesn’t turn me around. He doesn’t demand control. Instead, he cradles me to him, his big body pressed to every part of me, those blue eyes staring down at me, and the fact that he’s touching me, that once again he is here with me, is a blessed relief. He hurt me and as much as I wanted to form an immunity to him, it’s clear I failed. He is my addiction, and it’s bittersweet and terrifying.
“Luke,” I whisper, emotion welling in my chest and belly.
“I like the way you say my name,” he murmurs. “I really do.” His mouth slants over mine, his tongue stroking deeply. And just that easily, I’ve forgotten about the power play, the need for control. The need to protect myself. I can’t think about what it means for him to leave again. I can’t think about the past that might well force that to happen again. I’m lost without him. I thought he was fine without me, but not anymore. I think he’s lost without me, too.