AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I lift my ass and he slides out of his jeans and boxers. I shift back onto his lap, my back pressed into his chest, my sex hovering over his cock. The tip strains against me, teasing me, sending waves of pleasure to my fingertips. I lower myself slowly, his cock slipping inside me until it fills me.
He touches me everywhere, stroking my breasts and stomach and thighs. His hands settle on my hips and he rocks me backwards and forwards. I arch my back to meet him, fuller with every motion of my hips. I feel his teeth on my neck, sinking hard as he groans.
I close my eyes, aware of nothing but the sensation of him inside me, rocking against me, filling me, sending pleasure through my body. I blink my eyes open, no idea what the images on the screen mean, and grab the seat in front of me. I need more of him. I need to be fuller. I use the seat for leverage, grinding into him, pushing him deeper.
My body shakes with need. Every second of his touch is pure electricity, and I get closer and closer, the tension inside me building. He glides his fingers over my nipples, his breath heavy in my ear. I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming. It feels so fucking good. He feels so fucking good inside me.
I am so close to coming, and I can't stop myself from moaning. He whispers in my ear, “Don't stop yourself. I want to hear you come.” He strokes my nipples, his touch even softer, every brush of his fingertips sending sparks shooting through my body. I do as I'm told, panting and groaning as he thrusts into me. His lips are on my ear, sucking and nibbling gently. Then, they move to my neck, biting harder and harder.
Then, his hands are on my hips, rocking me faster, and he is going harder and deeper. I shake. Almost there. I feel the tension inside me. More and more and more, until I can't take it anymore, and I come, my body shaking, my moan so loud I am sure someone hears us.
But Luke does nothing to quiet me. He pulls my body into his, kissing my neck, squeezing me, tight. His fingers dig into my hips and he rocks me, up and down, faster and faster. He groans, a soft whisper in my ear. “Fuck,” he groans again. He digs his nails into my skin. He sinks his teeth into my neck. And he comes, filling me completely.
We stay like that for a while, his chest
pressed into my back, his cheek pressed against my neck, his cock inside me, regaining our breath.
We don't bother to finish the movie.
***
I clean up in the bathroom and meet Luke at the lobby of our building.
“I should go,” I say.
“Let me walk you to your apartment.”
“Ryan would—”
“Ryan will be working for another few hours.” He takes my hand and adds, “Don't worry. I won't let him find out about this.”
“Don't you want us to break up?”
“It doesn't really matter what I want, does it?” he asks.
The trouble is, I know what I want, and it's absolutely not what I should want.
I want Luke.
Chapter 15
I take a long bath, washing away any signs of my betrayal. I can't risk losing what I have with Ryan. Not yet. Not when I am about to throw myself back on the chopping block of TV acting. Not when I need him to protect me the most.
Luke likes me now because I haven't challenged him. I haven't dragged him through hell and back. Or forced him to watch me fall apart. In fact, I've been remarkably collected every time I’ve seen him, especially considering how Ryan has been acting.
Get a grip, Alyssa. Don't throw away your future with Ryan for some permissive hottie. So Luke is fun and good in bed. So what? Do you really think he'll be able to keep you in line?
Luke has read all the tabloid articles, so he knows I used to have, still have, a little problem with “disordered eating.” That was what he said, wasn't it? A problem with disordered eating. As if it was a little problem I'm over.
If he thinks it's that easy, he won't be able to handle a week as my boyfriend, much less a year.
And he's the kind of guy who would believe he could handle it. He's so sure he'd be better for me than Ryan is. He's so sure he'd treat me right. Maybe he doesn't think he's a good guy—he is, after all, fucking an engaged woman, and he doesn't have any moral qualms about it—but he does think he'd be a good boyfriend.
He's probably seen a few TV shows about bulimia, a few tortured teenagers who dieted too hard and promptly snapped out of their eating disorder with a few hugs from the protagonist—it's always the supporting characters who get eating disorders, the bitchy, popular girl, or the quiet best friend, or the slutty cheerleader. He's probably seen a few TV shows about girls who were healed by the love of their sweet boyfriends. He probably has some complex where he thinks he can save me.
Like that isn't what you want. Didn't Ryan save you from yourself?
But Ryan didn't save me the way sensitive boys on TV save pretty girls on TV. He didn't profess his love, or write me poems, or convince me I don't need to be a size 0 to be beautiful. He didn't save me with pathetic, empty sweetness. He saved me with tough love. There is nothing sweet or romantic about me and Ryan, and there will never be anything sweet or romantic about us.
