Page 7 of Fractured Destiny

“Make it two.”

The driver’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror and I clock him watching us.

Fucking perv. I’ll give him a show. No problem.

Lake’s mouth hovers on the curve of my ear. His breath fogs the small place behind my jaw and goosebumps spread down the back of my scalp. He plunges his fingers under my panties and braces one leg against the back of the passenger seat. Exposing everything.

Good God, he plays me the way he plays guitar. Like a virtuoso. Each drag of his thumb on my clit generates its own small electric event, ringing up through my belly to my throat. I turn my face and his mouth finds mine. Wet, sloppy, unhurried. The kiss makes my eyes go heavy and my pussy gush into his hand.

God, I’ve missed sex. It’s been too long.

The driver coughs. Lake glances up, pulls his fingers from my panties and licks my neck. “Hold up, we’re almost there.”

I’m so wet, I’m dripping on the seat under me.

The Uber pulls up to a brick four-story apartment building in Belltown with a laundromat on the ground floor. Lake gets out, tips the driver, grabs his guitar, and offers me his hand.

The contact of his palm against mine strikes a chord that vibrates through the whole length of me. He walks me up the stairs, green eyes boring into mine the entire flight.

This guy’s so fucking beautiful I can’t look away. Once we’re in front of his place, the key sticks. He laughs softly. Tries again. Finally, the door opens.

I’m from Medina. My entire life, I’ve lived in houses you could lose a small family in. Lake’s apartment is the opposite. One room with a galley kitchen along the right wall. A jar of laundry quarters by a coffee maker and chipped pot. Vinyl records stacked on the floor next to a turntable. A futon bed in the back corner under a window with the blinds half-drawn, full size, not queen. An open notebook is on top of a milk crate beside the bed.

Lake guides me through the door and sets his guitar down. His mouth twitches into a real smile as he pulls his t-shirt off over his head one-handed, revealing abs I want to lick and a constellation of pale scars on his left shoulder. My gaze flicks down to the delectable cut of muscle disappearing below the waistband of his dark jeans, barely disguising his impressive bulge.

He hooks his arm low around my waist and spins me into him. “God, you’re so fuckin’ exquisite. I could write a million songs about your smile.”

Jesus. I’ve heard it all before from men much more famous than him.

I don’t have time for niceties. I want his cock in my pussy, stat.

My dress comes off in a soft glide of fabric over skin. His pupils dilate when he watches me pinch my taut nipples.

“So, are you gonna sweet talk or fuck me, Lake Lyon?” I flop back on the bed and spread my legs. It’s been a year and I haven’t had a sex drought longer than week since I lost my virginity to an asshole.

He kneels between my thighs, piercing eyes traveling up my body. His mouth comes down on the inside of my ankle and a shriek rips out of me before I can catch it. He moves up to the inside of my knee. Specifically, the bend behind it where the skin’s thin and sensitive. He bites gently and the sting blooms outward in concentric rings. I fist his curls. They’re softer than any man’s hair has any business being.

His kisses up to the crease where my thigh meets my pussy. The friction of his lips on my skin amplifies my horniness past anything my body has rules for. The bastard’s teasing me. Making me wait. I’m writhing on his sheets, trying to guide his head to where I want him but he’s kissing me everywhere but there.

When I don’t think I can take another minute, he hooks both thumbs in the sides of my thong and drags it down my legs. The fabric catches at my ankle. I kick it off. My thighs fall back open without another thought and he sucks my clit into his mouth and gets to work.

Within seconds, my jarring porn-star shrieks fill the air, but I can’t help it. Lake is giving me the best head of my life. His tongue is broad and warm and the world goes white at the edges, then saturates with color. Sound dampens as though I’m underwater. He works me slow, circles with the tip pointed, then flat. Each variation’s both addictive and unbearable and I never want him to stop.

“Oh myfuckingjesusgod. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.”

He rumbles into my pussy, “Tell me, baby.”

“There. There. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

Two of his fingers push into me, curl up and find my inner wall. My orgasm builds and breaks open like a piñata, his mouth relentless through the whole crashing thing. The waves hit in stages. Crash. Shudder. Break. Aftershock. Over and over again until I shove him away.

Laughing, he drags himself up my body, glistening lips catching my belly, ribs, and tits on the way. He pauses. Cups one breast in his palm, thumbing my nipple. The sensation whizzes through my belly to my clit. He sucks it into his mouth. Wet, slow. Same cadence as he used down below. Nibbles then gently bites and switches sides to give my other nipple the same decadent treatment.

“Lake,” I moan, low and keening.

He kisses me with my pussy taste on his tongue. “Yeah?”

“Please fuck me.” I lick myself off his lips. “Now. Don’t make me wait.”