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My head swam. My eyes fluttered closed. “Oh God,” I moaned, swaying on my feet.
He chuckled again, stabbing harder and faster at my sex with his tongue.
It was incredible.
I rolled my head, pleasure flooding me. There was something I was meant to be doing, but I couldn’t fathom what it was. Something I wanted him to tell me…
“Lucas…” I groaned. “Wh-what…are you doing…”
“Making you mine,” he declared a heartbeat before he plunged two fingers into my sex and sucked my clit into his mouth.
I came on his hand and his face.
Standing up, I came all over him.
As I did, he hummed approval, working his tongue faster on my clit, scissoring his fingers inside me with increased speed and skill.
A second orgasm crashed through me, this one more fierce and wild.
I gasped and moaned and writhed on my feet. “Oh God, Lucas…oh God…”
I don’t know when he straightened from between my legs. After he’d drained me of every drop of pleasure in my body, maybe? When he did, all I could do was stare at him, my breasts heaving, sucking in breath after breath. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?” I whispered as he brushed a curiously tender knuckle over my cheekbone.
“Yes,” he whispered back. “But not yet.”
“Why not?” Had my voice ever been so scratchy?
Open hunger flared in his eyes, and he curled his fingers around one of my wrists. “Because we have other things to do first.”
He pulled me from the bathroom. I tried to protest, but seriously, who was I kidding? I wanted him to make me his sexual slave.
“The shower…” I offered as the lamest reason in the world. “We should turn it off.”
He didn’t slow down. So much for water conservation.
We reached the bed—its duvet and sheets crumpled from where he’d been lying on it when I decided to have a shower—and with a strong tug on my wrist, he deposited me on the middle of it.
“Fucking you in this bed, in any bed, has been high on my to-do list, Ronnie,” he said. “And now I’m finally going to do it.”
“Oh.”
It was the most ridiculous response but the only one available to me. At his declaration, my brain had packed up and abandoned me. I was operating on nothing but pleasure now, raw and real and elemental.
The corner of his mouth tugged into a filthy lopsided smile as he climbed onto the bed, hands either side of my hips. “Oh is correct.”
With one knee, he nudged my thighs apart.
I stared up at him, my breath tearing from my chest. He hovered above me, watching me, that half-smile on his lips, his eyes brilliant blue fires of open lust.
Had he looked at me like this every time we were together? Had it been there all along and I’d missed it? At those joint family camping trips? At those 4th July barbeques? When I’d assumed he was sneering at me, had he really been aching for me instead? And if so, how could I go back in time and do this before the mysterious threat against our safety?
“Lucas,” I croaked as he climbed completely onto the bed, his face drawing closer to mine. His knee pressed to the junction of my thighs, one hand skimming up my ribcage, my breast… “Who are you? What are you?”
I had to try. One last time at least, before I was lost to his sheer mastery of my pleasure, my body.
His breath tickled my lips as something ambiguous glinted in his eyes. “A bad boy,” he whispered. “A very bad boy who wants to be inside you.”
And with that, he crushed my mouth with his and buried himself to the balls between my legs.
