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My answer is a breathless moan of assent. I hear a zipper. A whisper of denim as it drops to his feet. Then his blunt head teases me, dragging between my legs, dipping inside me a little before retreating.
My hips jerk downward. I’m rewarded with shallow penetration. But it’s not enough. Not even close to what I want—to what I know he can give me.
“Lucas!”
“I know, baby,” he whispers against my jaw. “Tell me what you want.”
My head thuds against the wall.
“Say it,” he growls. “Tell me you need me. That you want me filling you up. That you want my cum dripping down your legs.”
An unhinged sound escapes me, and my eyes open involuntarily. His gaze lifts from my mouth and narrows with a familiar, uncompromising expression.
“You want to pretend I don’t exist when we’re not together, Celeste? Fine. Friends with benefits? An itch to scratch? All fine.” His voice is sharp, almost brittle. “But when I’m fucking you, don’t even think about holding back or lying to me. You give me everything, or I give you nothing.”
If I wasn’t so out of my mind with need, I’d probably slap him. Maybe have a mental breakdown.
Instead, I say, “I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me. I want your cum dripping down my legs. I want to feel you for the rest of the day.”
His eyes shutter, his forehead dropping to rest lightly against mine. “Good.”
He adjusts me in his arms, jerking me down as he thrusts into me. I’m so primed there’s barely any resistance, just the before and after—empty; full. My flesh spasms around him, greedy and single-minded. Keep him. Keep him.
“Holy fucking shit,” he mumbles, then his tongue dips into my mouth as he circles his hips against mine, hitting spots inside me I didn’t know existed.
Words tumble from my mouth to his, breathless gasps of, “Please,” and “Yes,” and “Right there, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t stop. Not until I fall apart with a ragged cry against his shoulder. I’m still reeling with bliss as he quickly pulls out of me and lowers my feet to the floor. Chest heaving, I sag against the wall, then watch in a swiftly fading stupor as he pulls his jeans over his hips, tucking his erection in with a wince and a hiss before zipping up and rethreading his belt.
“Wha—Why?”
It’s all I’m capable of saying.
His eyes flash to mine, full of heat and unfulfilled need. Then he glances at his watch. “You have ten minutes before your first interview. I’ll be working from home today, so email or call me if you need to touch base.”
My afterglow burns down to embers before igniting with a different kind of heat. His cum is not dripping down my legs like it’s supposed to be.
I cross my arms over my chest and look meaningfully below his waist. “You didn’t finish.”
An eyebrow lifts. “Oh, did you think you deserved what you wanted today?”
I gape at him. “What the hell?”
In two long strides, he’s before me, lifting my face to his. His teeth clamp on my lower lip before releasing it with a pop. He licks the burning spot, then whispers, “Be good today, Peapod.”
He gives me a soft smile, then grabs his car keys from the floor in the entryway and lets himself out. I stare at the door for another minute before it occurs to me that another emotion is eclipsing my irritation.
I’m hurt.
I want him to come back.
I want him.
His nearness and touch. His pleasure. His voice, laughter, sighs, and groans.
It’s then I realize how truly fucked I am. Because I’m not rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic anymore.
I can see the big picture now, and I know exactly what’s coming my way.
