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Her throat was so dry. All she could manage was a scratchy, shallow sound. She settled for a stiff nod, and he gave her a breathtaking grin.
And just like that—the countdown kicked off. She’d nervously anticipate him at every moment. She was effectively trapped on this ship with him.
He massaged his hands through the rows of head fins that had gone completely transparent in the shower. The movement revealed the underside of his biceps. Made him even larger.
Caligher was beautiful. Borderline insane, but he was being so careful with her. Setting up an environment where she felt safe—truly safe—to do nearly anything. Making sure she knew the way out if they got in too deep.
That was reallynice.
She’d never had a partner take so many painstaking measures. She’d wanted to play games like this, but with others, it always felt like they were speaking a different language. With Caligher, she imagined she could say nothing and he would still understand.
Lucca avidly looked forward to being ambushed.
He must have noticed the contemplative desire in her eyes because he finally took pity on her.
“Poor Lucca,” he said, stepping into her. “I’ve done nothing but torment you, haven’t I?”
One hand pinned her shoulder to the wall as he drew the zipper to her pelvis. Breath hitching, she grasped his forearm, feeling the power of his muscles and tendons. He nudged the shirt open to reveal her to his heated gaze. “Then again, all you do is torture me, so I think it’s only fair.”
“Not fair,” she said.
His hand splayed over her stomach, nothing tentative in the touch.
“How is it not fair?” he asked. He grasped the globe of her breast beneath her jumpsuit, slowly squeezing down, fascinated by the softness. The sight of his strong hand on her flesh was as erotic as the feel of being forcefully handled by him.
“You’re bigger and stronger than me,” she pointed out.
His fingers shifted and he pulled on her nipple. Again, and again—he twisted experimentally. Pulled at something deep that tugged her core to alertness. Her toes curled on the textured floor. Her head tilted back.
He unraveled her.
“Don’t you like me being bigger and stronger?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Yes.
Slowly, his fingers slid down her skin, disappearing between her legs, pausing so close to that desperate point of need. When she couldn’t take anymore, they parted her folds in light, teasing strokes that built a fire. Her hips canted forward.
His breath caught as he leaned closer, lips against her forehead. He pressed his nose into her and brushed her skin with his breath. “You feel softer than I thought…”
She could sense him holding back the tension that radiated through his body—but just barely.
He quested deeper, stretching her, reaching deeper than she could by her own devices. His hand was large and overwhelming like the rest of him. She ground herself shamelessly against the heel of his palm. And he honed in on her g-spot, making her belly twist in stilted—repeated—licks of heat.
“Oh godthere,” she gasped, the carnal sound in her throat tapering off into a moan. “A-ah. Oh my—”
Her voice cracked.
He centered in on her pleasure, drinking in her response as she slowly melted against the shower wall, impaled on his hand. A glow of smoky lust entered his eyes.
“Maybe I don’t want to wait,” he suddenly whispered.
“Fuck waiting,” she agreed.
Tiny shivers of pleasure made her shake.
Made the entire ship shudder.
She spasmed helplessly as he worked her faster, faster, clutching his arm and turning into putty.
