‘I can’t get your pussy out of my head,’ I tell her, kissing her shoulder. ‘The way you taste...’ I nip her skin. ‘The way you move...’ She claws my neck as I cup her and her legs shift apart, granting me all the access I need. ‘The way you’re wet just for me...’
I move, sliding my middle finger in deep, and pull back until her clit is beneath my fingertip. Slowly I rotate it over her and she whimpers, the noise sending my balls heavenward. The smooth undulation of her hips is pushing my release and I grit my teeth.
Not yet.
* * *
I’m losing it.
It’s the only way to explain how we’ve got to this point. In my parents’ perfect, clinical abode. All orderly and cold. Me naked. Him clothed. Me on the brink. Him...
Oh, yes...
I can feel he’s close. Every taut muscle is pressing into my back, and his stance as he rocks with rigid precision against me is so fucking hot. I ride my arse against him, staving off my own release.
I want him to come. I want him to come inside his clothing. I want to feel that power—to know that a man like Lucas Waring can lose it, still caged inside his underwear, over me. It’s that which keeps me just this side of sane.
I drop one hand to move it with his and feel his body jerk.
‘Christ, Evangeline.’ His breath rasps. ‘What are you doing to me?’
I smile through the salacious heat whipping around us, pushing his fingers lower, encouraging him to sink inside me as I move with him.
He breathes into my neck, his stubble grazing my skin as he buries his face there. His other hand drops to my thigh and grabs it, lifting it, granting himself greater access, greater friction over my clit as his wrist rubs against me and his cock presses harder, more urgently.
‘Yes, Lucas, yes...’ I pant, and my control is slipping.
But his is too. He’s trembling against me, his body ever more tense, and then I am gone. Wave after wave crashes over me, and my head is swimming with ecstasy. And then I feel him, hear his growl into my shoulder, feel his teeth biting as he bucks and shudders, his own release wild and sudden.
I hang off his neck, holding him to me, keeping us locked together, and my lips stretch in a triumphant smile. I look to the pristine white ceiling, catch our reflection in the rim of a chrome spotlight, and it’s a reminder that this is real. So very real and so electrifying.
I should be scared—scared of what it means for the future, scared about whether I can give this up. Instead I’m content in his arms, naked and at home.
‘Fuck, I haven’t... I shouldn’t have...’
He shakes his head and his disbelief, his sudden vulnerability, resonates through me. I turn and hook my hands behind his neck, eager to see off any hint of real emotion—because that I can’t deal with.
‘Oh, yes, you should...because that was erotic as fuck.’
He lifts his lashes; his eyes meet mine and I am winded. They are almost shy as they search, seeking out a lie that doesn’t exist. It was fucking hot. It was everything I wanted.
‘You have to be kidding me...?’ His hands drop to my behind, soft, yielding.
He doesn’t believe me.
‘No.’
I almost kiss him—can feel the urge burning through my veins. But where would that leave us?
And then his crazy statement replays in my mind: ‘I’ve had ten years to wait for this.’
Shit.
I push it away. I can’t think about what that means. It’s too hopeful. And I learned my lesson once. I won’t go there again. Focus on the sex. It’s tangible. It’s what he came for and it’s the one thing I agreed to and can give. For tonight.
‘Just thinking about it turns me on all over again,’ I say.
As if on cue my nipples prickle into his shirt and I run my teeth over my lower lip. I’m not kidding. Three orgasms and still I want more. I know it’s a bad sign, but as I curve into him, breathing him in, I couldn’t care less.