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He denies my impending orgasm and pushes me up, his contact no longer on me. There’s a reverberation of his deep chuckle racing through me as he yanks me back to him to lick my clit and finger me while his free hand pinches my nipples. The sensation begins to build again. He doesn’t continue to edge me this time, allowing the orgasm to take over my body. It’s long—and Luca never gives me subpar orgasms to begin with—but this one is on a whole new level. That’s Luca for you; he’s an overachiever in everything he does, including orgasms.
As he sits up and adjusts me onto his lap, I instinctually wrap my legs around his waist. “Hi there.” His little greeting is so fucking sweet.
“Hi there to you, too.” I lean over and kiss his nose. “If I were to grade your performance, you’d receive an A+.”
“Is that right?” he asks.
“Yeah, plus extra credit,” I jest.
“Extra credit, too, wow. But, I have to admit, I can’t take full credit. The woman grading me is pretty great herself.” He drops his forehead to mine. “You know, you’re all I want, right?”
If I hadn’t been positive before, I am after this night, that’s for sure.
* * *
My humble abode is closer to the club than Luca’s. It’s how I wake up in my queen-sized bed and not the mattress delivered from the good Lord himself, larger than the state of Texas.
He’s not next to me as my eyes flutter open and my body is deliciously sore, but last night I won’t soon forget. The smell of eggs and bacon is lofting through my second-story home. Will he burn down my house? After all, he shouldn’t be left alone to his own accord in the kitchen.
I slip on my robe, stepping down the stairs that deposit at the end of my living room with a straight view of the kitchen. He’s standing in his shirtless glory in front of the stove as the door shuts.
A smirk spreads through his expression, a smile included on his guilt-ridden face. I can imagine he was a hellion for his mother.
“Don’t tell me you have someone on your payroll who comes and cooks for you when you’re at another girl’s home?”
He empties the space in three very long steps. “First off, I don’t have anyone on my payroll who specifically cooks for me, and second off…” He tips my chin up toward him. “There’s never been another girl’s home I’ve stayed the night in. Do you understand me?” he asks, his tone changing but still playful, so unlike Luca. Maybe I’m changing him for the better, as he’s mentioned in the past.
“So, who was here?” I won’t let him get out of answering my question.
“All right, all right—so I didn’t cook breakfast, but it’s the thought that counts, don’t you agree?”
The stubble on his chin tickles my neck as he drops kisses all over me as if it will distract me from forgetting to ask who was in my house.
“Nice try, but your affection won’t get you out of telling me who was in my kitchen cooking.”
His chuckle radiates through my body, his lips still attached to me.
“It was Anthony.”
“You really are spoiled. And poor Anthony. Does he ever get the day off?” He ignores me, lacing his fingers with mine, and pulling me over to the small table in an alcove of my kitchen, overlooking Lake Michigan.
We share breakfast, and it’s so domestic. Last night we were at a kink club, and this morning he’s serving me bacon, eggs, and biscuits. His two worlds are so jarringly different, and I can’t understand how this man is my reality.
“Luca?” I question, taking the last bite of my eggs.
He’s mid-sip of his coffee, and his eyes narrow on me. “What is it, Heaven? You seem so serious all of a sudden.” We’d been teasing one another as if we’d not been separated for almost a month.
“I need time to think about this and the submission you want from me. I won’t lie. It’s hard to imagine giving up control, but then again, with you, it seems possible. But, regardless of what’s in our future, I have to know there are no hidden secrets or lies of omission. I trust you, but I need to keep it that way if we’re going to work.”
Luca’s voice cracks when he begins to speak. “You’re right, Heaven. And I’m sorry. Everything up front from now on.”
I don’t know where we’ll be in a month, but this man rarely apologizes. Is it something I bring out in him?
We return to our breakfast, making plans for the morning. Luca is the complete opposite of anyone I’d imagined myself with. He scoops up the dishes, loading them into my dishwasher before I can complain. “Do you even know how to load the dishes?” I tease, and his laughter is a symphony for my ears.
* * *
“Oh, good. You’re back. I was hoping we’d meet soon.” The curvy chestnut-haired woman I remember from last week’s scene stands in front of me, and she looks much different without her pigtails. “I’m Laura.”
