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A shiver works down my spine, and I claw my fingers down his shoulder blades, feeling every muscle of his toned back, and begin to tug him into me. I want him. Now. All of him.
He kisses my cheek and then pulls away. I almost whine with impatience before I realize he is opening his bedside drawer. He tears the foil package open with his teeth and rolls the condom on expertly with one hand. Then, his mouth is over mine again, and I’m lost to his kisses.
Since our kiss on the couch, I’d imagined what it would be like to be with Luka. I’d imagined the rough way he would bend me over the end of the sofa and claw at my body, but this isn’t like that. He is taking control, but it is still tender. He is claiming my body, but in a way that makes me feel cherished and beautiful.
Still kissing me, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, Luka grabs my wrists and pins them above my head with one of his hands. Then, he reaches down between us, positions himself at my opening, and begins to press.
I gasp as my body opens to him. He fills me inch by inch. Pain mingles with pleasure, and I roll my hips in shallow thrusts to help ease him inside. Finally, his body is flush with mine, and we stay there and enjoy the feeling for a moment. Then, Luka’s hand tightens around my hands, and he pulls out before slamming back into me.
My body arches with the force, and I try to free my hands to grab onto him or the bed orsomething, but he keeps a vice-like grip and does it again. And again. Between him filling me and the grinding of his hips against me, I’m lost on a turbulent sea of sensation and pleasure. I hear someone moaning and crying out, and it takes me a few seconds to realize it is me.
“Yes. Yes.Yes.” I can’t use my hands, so I strain up as far as I can and capture Luka’s lips. He pulls almost completely out and then thrusts into me again, and I fall back on the mattress, gasping.
My body is cresting another large wave, ready to tumble over the edge, when suddenly, Luka lets go of my hands and pulls away from me. My eyes fly open and my hands begin searching for him, desperate to bring him back. He dodges my hands, grabs my hips, and yanks me to the edge of the bed. As soon as my feet hit the floor, he rolls me over.
I understand what is happening, and I stretch my upper body out on the bed, grab on to the blankets, and press my hips out to him for better access. Luka groans as his hands press a fiery line down my back. He curses under his breath as I arch my back, and when I shake my hips, he grabs my waist with one hands and presses himself inside of me with the other.
It is like a cool glass of water on a hot day. I relax onto the mattress, my cheek pressed against the cool material of his comforter, and close my eyes. He pulls my body back onto himself, and I go limp, letting him have me however he wants. He saws in and out of me, his breathing growing more ragged with each thrust, and I reach back to grab onto his thighs.
Suddenly, his hand cracks across my backside. I wince with the pain, but just as quickly, he sooths it away with a warm rub of his hand. There is another slap and then a caress. Another slap and a caress. It is a sensual game of give and take. Just when I think I can’t take another slap, his hand settles on my hip and then works around towards my front. I know his final destination, and I lift my body off the mattress slightly so his hand can once again find my center.
He circles over me to the speed of his pulses. The sparks in my belly catch until flames are licking up the walls of my body, setting me ablaze inch by inch. If he keeps going, there won’t be anything left to save. I’ll be a pile of ash on the bed.
I hear his grunts with every movement of his hips. Our bodies are slapping together, sweaty and hot and wild, and I grab handfuls of the comforter to keep myself rooted to something real. Moans slip between my lips unprompted as my legs begin to tremble and the muscles of my stomach begin to clench.
“Yes. Please,” I moan, arching my back, aching to give myself over to him. “Please. Luka.”
He growls when I say his name, so I say it again.
“Luka, please.”
His hand pulls back from my center to move back to my hip, gripping the soft flesh there until I’m sure there will be bruises. With each thrust, he pulls me back on him until the sound of our bodies slapping together drowns out everything else. My entire body clenches at the same time the sound of his growls reaches a crescendo, and then, we both fall apart.
The warmth in my belly explodes, rippling through my arms and my legs. I curl my toes and lift my hips and scream through the orgasm. Luka’s thrusts have become more purposeful. He pulls me against him and pauses so I can feel him move inside of me. His heavy breathing shifts from growls to grunts to soft moans until, finally, he falls forward, his sweaty cheek resting against my back.
I lay there, quiet and sated, feeling the thrum of adrenaline and pleasure in my trembling arms and legs and the hammer of Luka’s heart against my spine.
15
Luka
I search for her before my eyes even open. Her lemon and honey smell is in my sheets and on my skin, and I want more of her immediately. My body is still weak from our marathon round last night, but it wasn’t enough. I’m not sure it will ever be enough.
My arm sweeps across the bed, but it is empty. I open my eyes and I see the mussed bedding where she was sleeping, but she isn’t there. The bed is cold.
I thought that once I fucked Eve, the ache in my chest would go away. I thought the need that ran out of my chest like a rope and tugged me towards her would abate once I had her, but instead, it felt stronger. Even though my eyes ache and my muscles are sore from having her in so many different positions, I crawl out from under the warm blankets, slip into a pair of thin cotton pajama pants, and pad down the hallway. Her bedroom door is open and her room is empty.
Part of me worries that she left. My phone didn’t show a notification that she was gone, but the tracker system isn’t perfect. If she managed to get the bracelet off, she could have slipped away. Maybe her pleasure last night was a performance. Maybe her orgasms were faked, and she was just luring me into complacency so she could embarrass me and sneak out of my bed and make a run for it.
The thought makes my fists clench, but not with anger…with a feeling I don’t recognize. Sadness?
The feeling floats away as soon as I reach the bottom of the stairs and hear the sizzle of bacon coming from the kitchen. Of course, she is cooking.
When I reach in the doorway, I pause. She is standing in front of the stove in one of my t-shirts that fit her like a dress. The material hangs like a shapeless sack over her body, but her bare legs stick out the bottom, and as she reaches to flip something on the back burners, the hem lifts high enough that I can see the curve of her butt and a pair of lacy red panties. The sun is barely up, and I’m hard as a rock.
No woman has ever made me breakfast. Not the morning after we’ve fucked. I’ve never even brought a woman to the mansion before. I go back to their house, get what I want, and then leave. So, this is new, and I’m surprised to find I don’t hate it. Seeing Eve move around my kitchen in my clothes might be the second sexist thing I’ve ever seen. The first being her laid out on the kitchen island with her legs wrapped around me. I let out a low chuckle when I realize the kitchen might now be one of my favorite rooms in the entire mansion.
At the sound, Eve spins around, eyes wide. She slaps a hand to her chest. “God, you scared me.”
