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“I said I'd ask nicely. So, Alyssa, can I make you come or should we arrange for alternate entertainment?”
Chapter 11
“I don't know,” I say, “can you?”
“There you go again with that sexy grammar,” he smiles. “Miss Summers, may I make you come?”
“You may.”
“Should I get something?” he asks.
“I haven't been with anyone besides Ryan in years. I was tested for anything and everything when I started treatment. And, well, I do have an IUD.”
“I trust you. And I haven't been with anyone since… Well, it's been a while. And I'm clean. But I can get something if you want to be careful.”
“No¸” I say. “I don't want a condom in the way. I want to feel you inside me.”
“Jesus,” he says, his hands sliding around my waist. And, like he can barely control himself, he pulls me onto his lap and presses his lips into mine. I straddle him, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against my thighs. Can I really do this? Can I really c
heat on Ryan? Will I even be able to look myself in the eye tomorrow?
But I don't care how I feel tomorrow. My brain doesn't understand the concept of tomorrow. My brain is quickly passing the reins to my body, and my body does not know or want anything except Luke. I need him to touch me, and kiss me, and fuck me. I've never needed anything more than I need Luke inside me.
But if I'm going to do this, I'm going to relish it.
Luke sucks on my upper lip, gently at first, then harder and harder. Our mouths part and his tongue slips inside my mouth, swirling around mine. My body surges with electricity again. Every inch of me wants every inch of him, and it wants it now.
I pull his shirt over his head and press my fingers into his hard muscles. God, his body feels as amazing as it looks. His back and chest are so strong, and when I slide my fingertips across them, he groans and bites my neck. His hands find my ass, pushing my crotch into his. He's hard.
He slides his hands around the curves of my hips and waist, along the neckline of my dress. He traces my neckline with his fingers, down and up and down and up again. His touch is so light I can barely feel it. Then, his fingers inch forward, onto my skin, and he follows the pattern of the neckline. Down and up and down and up again. Jesus. I squeeze my thighs around him, but he doesn't change his pace.
Finally, when I think I will explode if he doesn't touch me properly, he pushes the fabric of my dress out of the way. He takes a long look, hands on my hips, his hard cock straining against his jeans.
“God, you're beautiful,” he says, and he strokes my breasts, his thumbs rubbing against my nipples. Pangs of pleasure shoot through my body, my sex screaming with desire. I'm already so achy. I'm already so ready. I press my mouth onto his, sucking hard on his lips. I grab his hand and bring it between my legs.
“Such impatience,” he smiles. His fingertips brush against my thighs, his touch getting lighter the closer he gets to my sex. Then, he brushes his hand against my panties. I groan.
“Fuck me,” I command, my voice weak and needy.
“We aren't even close to ready for that,” he says. He pushes me onto my back and slides my dress to my feet. Then he kisses me, hard, his fingertips flirting with the edge of my panties. God, I want those hands on my skin, under my panties, inside me.
But Luke has other ideas. He presses his lips against my neck. A soft kiss. Then harder. His lips press into my shoulder. Harder. His lips press into my collarbone. Harder. His lips close around my nipple. Jesus. I groan and arch my body into his, my hands digging into his hair.
I feel his tongue, soft and wet, swirling around my nipple. Then his teeth. He bites gently at first. Then harder and harder, until I feel an equal mix of pain and pleasure. I dig my nails into his shoulders, but it only encourages his tease. He moves to my other nipple and sucks on it, the pressure of his mouth flooding my body with desire.
He slides his fingers up my thighs again. But this time, he strokes over my panties, pressing the smooth fabric into my sex. I am already wet for him. I am already desperate for him. But he is making me wait. He is cruel. He is evil. He is perfect.
He presses my panties into my clit and strokes softly. More. I need more. Come on, give me more. His fingers slip inside my panties, and, finally, I feel them against my bare skin.
“God, you're so wet,” he says.
“Don't make me beg.”
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks. He looks up at me, his big, brown eyes lit up with desire.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“Soon,” he says. He pins me to the couch and his lips trail down my body, kissing and sucking and nibbling. He lifts my ass, pulling my panties to my knees then off my feet. He pushes my legs apart, pinning my knees to the couch.
