“You’re good. Really good.” He goes back to chopping. “But I already know that. Most people know that about me. I’m not on this earth to please anyone. I’m here to cause havoc and nothing more.”
“Don’t forget the fucking,” I point out, because the man sure does know how to fuck.
“Yes, about that…” He pulls the pasta from the stove and puts it all together in a large bowl. “You should sit, so we can eat.” He nods to the large wooden table in the dining room, and I walk over and sit on the white chairs—he seems to have a thing for white. He places the bowl in front of me, then sits next to me.
“Where is yours?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m not having that for dinner tonight.” I look to the bowl of delicious-looking pasta, confused.
“Is it laced with poison?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head.
“Then, why?”
“Because I plan to have you for dinner.”
“That’s a bit cocky, wouldn’t you say?” I bite into the pasta. If I die, I die. I guess we’ll see. I try to hold back the moan, but it’s pasta, and I love me some good pasta. This is exceptional.
“That’s why I plan to fuck you. Because of that sound right there.” He gets up and goes back to the kitchen while I finish eating. When I’m done, I find him watching me, his shirt undone, one hand leaning against the kitchen counter.
“I think it’s time you lose the clothes,” he says boldly.
“I think not. I didn’t come here so you could fuck me.”
“But you did. You like the way I fuck you.” I can’t argue with that, because I do like it, very much so. Even though I think I got in that car without that thought.
My gaze skims him. I can’t help it, he’s fascinating to look at.
Why am I attracted to him so much?
Why does he give me butterflies and make me nervous when no other man has ever been able to do that before?
I hate that I have these feelings.
I hate that he does it to me.
I stand and head toward the door, but I don’t even make it two steps, when he speaks.
“Chanel.” My feet pause, and in my head I’m screaming at them to start moving again. “I plan to slide my tongue over every inch of your body. To taste you. All of you.”
Goddammit! Goose bumps litter over my skin.
“That’s not going to happen,” I tell him.
“You want it to happen, so why lie about it?” he asks. He removes the bowl from the table, leaning down, the necklace he always wears dangles within my view.
“Who said I was lying?” My breathing is heavy. And I hate, hate, that I want him to touch me, to slide his hands around my body and do what he just said he wants to do.
Taste me.
I want him to taste me.
Every which way.
His fingers touch the skin on my arms, and he traces them up to my shoulders.
“These do, the little bumps that cover your skin when I touch you. You like it.”
“If you say so,” I say in a calmer voice than I thought I could manage. His body is now pressed against mine, and I can feel every inch of him. “I can feel you.”
A soft, slow smirk touches those sinister lips. “Not that I’m not happy to be near you, but that isn’t my cock.” He reaches between us and pulls out his gun. Then presses his body back into mine while holding his gun in one hand. “Now, that’s my cock.” I watch as his eyes darken and the gun goes to the table, then his hands slide under my armpits and he lifts me effortlessly onto the surface as well, lying me on my back where he hovers over my body with his gun in my peripheral.
“It’s best you stay still.” Lucas moves forward, his lips meet the exposed skin on my stomach, and he places butterfly kisses everywhere, teasing at the edge of my pants before he leaves the elastic and pulls them down ever so slightly.
“And what if I don’t,” I challenge him, peering down my body as he looks up at me.
“You’ll find out when you find out.” That’s all he gives me before he drags my pants down my hips, taking my underwear with them. I’m now lying half-naked on his table.
Lucas’ hands grip my knees and he spreads my legs open wide, baring all of me. I’m not self-conscious, but somehow, my thighs want to come back together, even though I know what he can do with his mouth.
That glorious tongue, which should only be used for this one thing, tastes me. I hear his deep inhale as he breathes me in. Lucas has no shame whatsoever. He doesn’t care if you judge him—he literally does not give a fuck. Not many people can say the same thing. Lucas is in a world of his own, and I’m just a visitor.