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Lucas
Ididn’t ever remember being this anxious to be inside of a woman. I was nearly shaking with anticipation. Jesus, she was sexy. And so incredibly responsive as she pulled me in deeper by locking her legs around me.
“This is going to be hard and fast.” I was past the point of patience.
“Thank Christ.”
My hands gripped her hips, sliding her closer to the edge and allowing me to deepen my angle. After pulling out, I slammed back home, and our collective groan filled the space. I started moving, fucking her with steady movements, holding nothing back. The intensity was off the charts. It was primal, my body driving into hers without holding back. Although I was close, I reached down between our bodies to find her clit. Christ, I wouldn’t last much longer. Not with the way her hot, tight, and wet pussy was gripping me.
“Come for me.” Moaning the words, I thrust faster and chased my release even while adamant she join me.
A scream of pleasure ripped from her throat, and she fell apart at the same time I bucked through my climax. I leaned forward to capture her lips, not ready to break our connection. But I knew the table couldn’t be comfortable. “Come on. Let’s shower.”
I wouldn’t let myself freak about her being here, on my table, about to enter my shower and my bed. Tomorrow would be soon enough for those thoughts. But tonight— Well, tonight I refused to waste a minute second-guessing anything.
I reachedfor Brooke as soon as I woke up the next morning, finding her side of the bed empty. The open bathroom door showed no sign of her, but perhaps she was downstairs.
Rolling out of bed, I pulled on a pair of athletic shorts, determined not to get weird about her staying the night at my house. I’d invited her here. I was the one who’d decided not to spoil the mood by setting boundaries last night. But the task of reminding Brooke this didn’t change anything with regard to not wanting a relationship definitely needed to be accomplished this morning.
The smell of coffee greeted me, but there was no sign of Brooke in my kitchen. Or the living room. Or on my balcony. Where the hell was she? She didn’t have her car here, so she couldn’t be gone. Right?
Spotting a slip of paper on my counter next to the coffee pot, I read the note there and frowned.
“Helped myself to coffee and one of your travel mugs. Have a good weekend.”
Had she taken an Uber home? She must have. I should have been relieved, but instead I found myself unsettled. Again.
