Page 84 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

“Take it off,” I gasp against his lips. One breath later and it’s over my head, tossed to the side. His mouth goes back to devouring mine.

“What else?” he asks between languid kisses that make my thoughts melt into a puddle on the bathroom floor.

I grab his left hand, being mindful of his shoulder even though he isn’t, and bring it to my bra. He reaches behind me to unhook the clasp, getting it on the first try.

A moan rips out of me as Luke’s hand sneaks under the loose cups to palm my bare breast, thumb brushing over the peak. I gasp against his mouth.

“You like that?” he murmurs against my mouth, finally getting rid of my bra entirely. “Just wait until I fuck you.”

The expletive leaving his lips is hotter than everything that’s happened yet.

“Yeah? Did you dream about that, too?” I goad him.

His laughter ghosts across my cheek. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Never. And you didn’t answer my question.”

His mouth returns to mine and I’m struck by the surreal truth that this is Luke. Luke, who pretended not to know my name just so I’d talk to him. Luke, who lugged me on a road trip through hell to save my best friend. Luke, whose hips are so close to mine, I can feel the outline of his hard-on through the towel.

A towel I’d make heinous demonic deals to get rid of.

My head jerks back as his hand knots in my hair, tugging on it so I bare my throat to him. His mouth leaves mine and a pitiful, wanting whine escapes me. It quickly turns into a moan as his lips leave a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck.

“To answer your question: yes, I dreamt about this. But my imagination was lacking because it didn’t even come close to how good you actually feel.”

“That’s understandable. You are a spreadsheet guy, after— Ah!”

My teasing turns to a yelp as his tongue circles my nipple. Fingers threaded in his hair, I tug harshly on his strands at the mind-numbing sensation. It’s all hot and disorienting and fast, like a roller coaster you’re stumbling off of before you fully realize the ride’s over.

His fingers hook on the waistband of my leggings. I plant my hands on the counter, lifting my hips so he can drag them down my legs with my underwear. He drops them on the floor and steps back, taking me in.

The fog lifts as my insecurities flash through my mind. My body, softer than it’s ever been, completely bare before him. I shift under his half-lidded gaze as the seconds drag out.

As if sensing my thoughts, he closes the gap between us. Mouths like magnets, he kisses me, though less rushed and desperate than before. There’s a sweetness to it.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “So fucking beautiful and brave.”

His words set me on fire. My fingers are once again in his hair, pulling him into me. He steps back between my knees, where he belongs.

His right hand forces my thighs farther apart. A moan escapes as his finger trails to where I want him most. He groans into my mouth. “So beautiful, so brave, and so wet.”

I throw my head back with a groan. He takes the opportunity to assault my neck as his finger slips into me, rubbing all the right places.

“I’ve been thinking about this, too,” I confess. “You touching me. At the motel in Tulsa, I couldn’t even lay on the bed with you. You make me feel—”

I gasp as he adds another finger, periodically pulling both out to rub the spot that makes me squirm. His mouth comes up to brush the shell of my ear. I shudder. “How do I make you feel?”

Wading through my thoughts is impossible with the strategic movement of his fingers. Keeping up with his mouth is also beyond me, so I focus instead on the scar across his throat. My lips find it, sucking at the raised skin, and a shudder passes through him.

“How do I make you feel?” he repeats, twisting his fingers. A cry escapes me. My lower belly tightens until I’m barely holding on.

“So fucking good. Like—like I’m going to—” I gasp. Luke groans, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss. His left hand—which he really shouldn’t be using—massages my breast.

“I want you to come,” he tells me, both a confession and an order. “Come for me.”

He pinches my peak and I shatter.

Sounds I’ve never made before spill from my lips as he continues his ministrations, letting me coast until I’m nothing but a shaking, shivering mess. His mouth presses a long kiss to my shoulder, his wet hair tickling my cheek. Slowly, he withdraws his fingers. A whimper escapes my throat at the loss.