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He reaches down to pet me between the legs, coaxing me to the brink of orgasm over and over again but never letting me fly off the edge.
“God damn it, Luke,” I swear.
He grins at me, his expression mock-innocent. “Just making sure you’re ready for me. I’m kind of big.”
“I know. I walked in on you getting out of the shower,” I remind him. Then I shut my mouth before I admit anything else embarrassing.
Unfortunately, Luke notices the change in my expression. “What?”
“You said no talking.”
“Hazel,” he says sternly.
How the hell does Luke manage to sound like a disapproving boss when he’s naked and about to be inside me?
And why am I so turned on by it?
“I, um, may have had this dream about you. After it happened,” I admit. “I woke up so horny. So, I, um, touched myself, and thought about your cock.”
He swears, every muscle in his body going tense as he pushes himself off me.
I blink, wondering if I said something wrong.
A second later, he’s sheathed himself in a condom, and then he’s thrusting into me, and it’s a little tight, but so, so good.
He kisses my temple. “I changed my mind. You can talk. Tell me every naughty thought in that head of yours.”
So I do. I tell him about every passing fantasy I’ve had about him. I tell him about all the ones I’ll have in the future, because of this night. I tell him about how I’ll spend the next six months one room down from his, touching myself and thinking about this moment.
Luke doesn’t say anything in return. But I can tell what he’s feeling from the way he touches me. The way he gets wilder when I confess something especially naughty, until he gets a hold of himself and tries to be gentle for a bit, tries so hard his hands shake as he touches me. At least until I say something else that goads him into losing control, and we’re losing ourselves in each other all over again.
I think I have two orgasms? Three? I don’t know. The waves of pleasure crash against each other, until Luke finds a new angle and gives one last savage thrust that sends me over the edge a second before he follows, kissing me through the whole thing, so that I’m not even sure if I’m breathing.
When we break apart gasping, he stares down at me, something unreadable in his eyes.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him what he’s feeling. But I already asked my question for the day.
And I don’t think I could bear it if I asked him, and he refused to answer.
Luke rolls off me and takes care of the condom.
I fall back against the pillows and focus on breathing. I realize the room around us is dark. We fucked through the sun setting. The ring on my left hand glints in the twilight.
I wonder if this is the part where I’m supposed to leave? We didn’t talk about if this was a meaningless one-time thing, but given Luke’s track record, I kind of assume it is.
On the other hand, some of the things he said...
What I feel, is that if another man touches you, I’ll fucking kill him. I want you for myself, Hazel.
That’s not something you say to a one-night stand, is it?
I’m still trying to figure out what to do when Luke returns to bed. He sprawls, completely unself-conscious, as he drapes a heavy, possessive arm over my waist.
Two minutes later he’s out like a light.
It’s not cuddling. Not exactly. Even in his sleep, Luke likes his space. But whenever I shift in the bed, he frowns and automatically readjusts until his arm is draped over me again. Like he’s not quite ready to let me go.
I smile to myself. Maybe this is a one-night stand. But I don’t think it’s meaningless.
