Oh, God. Yes.
-7-
Luke’s smile was laced with satisfaction as he hovered over me. He studied my expression, watching me intently when he reached a hand back and found my knee, hiking it up over his hip. His fingers skimmed from my ankle along my calf, pausing to trace a circle on my knee, and up on my thigh.
His voice was loaded with pleasant surprise when he slipped under my skirt and pressed his fingers in between my legs. “Goddamn, Nikita.”
He was making a comment about how wet I’d become. I shuddered and tore my gaze away, looking out the patio doors. There was security lighting outside that must have come on when the sun had set. It flooded the studio with silvery light filtered through the landscaped palm fronds.
A phone rang, jarring us both. It was his, so he paused, hurried to switch it to silent, and then resumed his seduction. Whoever was calling was not as important to him as what was happening right now in his studio. We were both mostly undressed, writhing on the floor. I clutched at him as his fingers stirred over my silk panties, and I tightened my hold when Luke slipped his hand down the front of them.
My mouth went slack. I saw sparks behind my closed eyelids. The moan that was cried out didn’t sound like me, but there was no one else it could have come from. His mouth was attached to my breast, sucking on a nipple while he massaged my slick skin. Over and over. Faster and faster.
Pleasure roared inside me, spinning like a top on a table. Each orbiting path brought it closer to the edge where it would fall. I groaned when he eased a finger inside. My body took over, and I bucked my hips into the invasion, allowing him to slide as deep inside as possible.
I didn’t know it could feel like this. My body had been incapable of feeling anything other than mild arousal, but now I was awash in it.
In no time I was damp with sweat. His hand moved to a rhythm that had me breathless and quaking. It didn’t seem to be enough for Luke. He withdrew and hooked his fingers around the waistband of my panties, yanking them down. As he freed my legs from them, I gasped. I was naked beneath him. He’d pushed my skirt clear to my waist so it was nothing more than a belt.
Anxiety seized me when he climbed off and slid down my body, resting on his elbows and curling his hands around my thighs. He held me open so he could feast on me. I slammed a hand over my mouth and moaned through my fingers as his tongue made contact. The soft brush of it on my sensitized skin was a focused burst of pleasure.
He did it again.
“Luke!” I arched my back, slamming my head against the floor. I fisted the sides of my skirt in my hands, needing to hold on to something. I squeezed and twisted the fabric so tight I worried it would rip. There was a bang as I collapsed my back against the wood and gasped, spinning further out of control. His tongue was madness. It was heat-soaked bliss. Feather-light strokes followed by firm, aggressive ones, sending me into a spiral.
I was a slave to him and his wicked mouth. A greedy, eager slave.
The hands wrapped around my thighs tightened. I was squirming uncontrollably, and he locked me in place, so he could continue to lash his tongue, fluttering it just above my entrance. The moans poured from me almost as furiously as his tongue moved.
“Collaborate with me,” he demanded in between his devastating strokes.
“What?” I tried to scoot backward from his mouth, but his hold was inescapable.
“Let’s work on something together.”
“I can’t think,” I panted, “when you’re doing that.”
“I figured. Just say yes.” He licked a long path through my valley and I jerked from the amazing sensation. “We could do a piece that speaks about our bad reputations.”
The mention of his standing in the art community made it more difficult to ignore the warnings in my head. Luke was a stranger, and I was letting him kiss me in a place I’d only allowed a few men before. Shockingly intimate for a man I knew nothing about. No, it was worse than that. Luke was supposed to be my enemy.
Yet, the only war I felt was internal. The desire to do more with him and find my release, battled against logic. Try as I might, I couldn’t paint him as the villain anymore.
“I work alone,” I said, clipped. What he was doing felt so impossibly good.
“Me, too.” He rolled the pad of his thumb over the bundle of nerves at my center. “But look at how well we’re getting along right now.”