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“Tempting,” I tell him. “But no need. Luca’s destroying the contract.”
“Willow’s agreed to my terms,” Luca says.
I kick my heel into his knee. “No, I havenot. I’ve not agreed to move in with you or marry you or have your children.”
“Just the fucking, then,” he says against my ear. And, lower still, “Sons. I bet we’re going to have sons.”
“I’ll have paperwork drawn up on Monday, then,” Sophie says. “Our professional relationship was short-lived, Willow, but a victory is a victory.” She gives me her hand. “Congratulations.”
I take her hand and shake it. “Best damn lawyer I ever met.” I smile at her. “Does that mean we no longer get our weekly catch-ups?”
“Better keep them up,” Sophie says, casting a wary look towards Luca. “You need someone to stop you from making stupid mistakes like letting Luca Fletcher-Lowe chase you around and get you pregnant withsons.”
She says it with a sneer in the word, but there’s a strange sensation in my stomach, right underneath Luca’s interlaced fingers.
I know I’m probably not marriage material, let alone mother material. I’m all wrong; I’m hopelessly, unfixably broken.
But so is Luca. And all the broken pieces of him fit perfectly into the pieces of me, like a fucked-up puzzle. The smallness of my heart might fit perfectly into the gaping hole at the centre of his heart, just like my body fits perfectly against his.
And if I should ever become a wife, whose wife could I be but Luca’s? And if I should ever bear someone’s sons, whose sons but Luca’s?
Out of principle, Idon’t let Luca come back with me to my apartment that night, but I do go back to his hotel suite with him the night after. I can’t help myself. He chases me around the hotel room, stealing kisses, and later, I handcuff him to his bed and make him beg for my love while I ride him.
When I come, writhing on top of him with my fingernails dug into his chest, he comes immediately after, pinning my hips down with his free hand as if he’s afraid I’ll run away in the middle of his orgasm.
He slumps back and looks up at me with drunken reverence, and he rasps in a tone of awe, “Fuck, Lynch. I fucking love you. I can’t help it.”
I laugh and grind down on top of him, and I look down at him, the mess of him, the mess of his pale, sweat-drenched hair and flushed cheeks and the bleary silver of his pleasure-drunk eyes. I smirk down at him.
“I might love you back, Luca, and it’s perfectly horrible. Like wanting to marry a snake or a slug.”
He reaches up to pinch my nipples between his fingers, hard and punishing. “You’rethe only slug I see in here, Lynch.”
“You know what that makes you?” I throw him a look of scorn. “A dirty slug-fucker.”
He blinks, slow and satisfied. His voice slides from his mouth like a lazy curl of smoke. “I guess we’re both disgusting, then.”
I scratch into his chest. “Oneof us is disgusting, Luca, and it’s not me.”
“Is that why you’ve still got my cock inside you?” I can feel him harden inside me as he speaks. “Because it’sdisgusting?”
I try to move away from him, but he raises his hand to grasp my throat. I bite my lip, catch my breath, and slowly, slowly grind my hips, clenching around his hardening cock.
“Degenerate creep.”
“Insatiable, poisonous slut.” He smirks and squeezes my throat tighter. “Evil dick witch.”
And he’s not wrong, is he?
Only,he’sthe one who fell in love with an evil dick witch, and that’s embarrassing for him because he’ll spend the rest of his life worshipping at my dark altar and in return I will deign, when it so pleases me, to bestow him with the graces of my affection, but only when I’m in a good mood.
Which, to be fair, I am in quite a lot these days.
Epilogue
Luca
It’s fucking Halloween again.The second anniversary of my first meeting with Willow Lynch and her favourite day of the year.
