Page 45 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
Lucas sucked in his breath. “Yes, God yes. Touch yourself. Let me watch you.”
Shamelessly, I rubbed myself where his tongue had been before, dipping my fingers inside my dripping body and feeling how wet he made me.
“Good girl. Now let me taste you again.” He reached down and took my arm, lifting my hand to his lips and sucking my fingers.
His cock twitched in my mouth.
“Oh fuck. That’s it. Come here.” He dragged me to my feet and picked me up beneath my arms, setting me down hard on the kitchen counter. “Now don’t fucking move.”
He strode from the kitchen into the bedroom and returned just seconds later rolling on the condom.
“Spread your legs.”
My belly flipped wildly at his command, and I widened my knees. Reaching around my back, he used one hand to pull me toward the edge of the counter and the other to guide his entrance into me.
“Mm, you’re so wet.” He kept one hand on my tailbone as he slid in deep, eyes closed. “So tight, so hot.”
“Yes,” I murmured, snaking my hands around his waist. “It feels so good, Lucas. Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he said, opening his eyes and pushing into me with deep, hard strokes. “I want to be inside you all night.”
Our mouths crashed together, a hot tangle of tongues and panting breaths before I grabbed his shoulders and arched back, tilting my hips to feel him in just the right spot. Within minutes, I felt the tremors close in, and I wrapped my legs around his thighs.
As soon as I felt his teeth on my nipple, the orgasm ripped through me, and I cried out, one long, continuous sound of pure pleasure as my body seized up—my hands squeezing his shoulders, my heels digging into his leg muscles, my insides clenched around his pounding cock.
I wanted to pick my head up and watch him come but I couldn’t. Instead I fell flat on my back across the counter, my fingers curled over the edge.
“Fuck. Oh my God, look at you.” Lucas flattened a hand over one breast and kept the other one locked on my hip, slamming into me harder and faster until his body went rigid and still, pulsing inside me.
Right fucking there on the kitchen counter.
I don’t think I need to tell you that this was new territory for me.
As was the kitchen floor a short while later (me on top).
And the living room rug not long after that (we took turns).
Eventually we made it into the bedroom, where we collapsed on the bed in a heap of sweaty, exhausted limbs, sore muscles, and really, really fucked up hair.
And all I could think was, How soon can we do it again?
We fell asleep, and when I woke up, I watched Lucas for a few minutes. His bedroom window was open slightly, allowing a cool breeze to blow through, and I could still hear the rain, although the thunder had ceased. I rolled onto my belly and set my chin in my hand, breathing in rainy-cool air and the scent of sex on our bodies.
Lucas’s skin was a little olive in tone, not very hairy except on his legs, and unmarred from what I could see, except for a small scar on his stomach. The inch-long slash sat just below his bottom left rib. I was tempted to run my finger over it, but I didn’t want to wake him.
He lay on his back, one arm tossed above his head, the other across his belly. I take it back. His armpits are little hairy too. I stifled a giggle. But his chest was nice and smooth, his nipples the color of wine—couldn’t stop the smile now—and his stomach a delicious meal of muscles and lines and that happy little trail that made my mouth water. The sheet was pulled up to his hips, or I’d have had more to enjoy.
“You’re awake.” Lucas’s eyes were open, his voice scratchy. “And you’re staring at me.”
I laughed. “Sorry. Nothing creepy, I promise. Just enjoying the view.”
He closed his eyes and smiled. “Carry on.”
Giving him a swat on the chest, I let my head fall onto my upper arm and stretched out next to him. “Mmmm. That was amazing.”
“The sex or the nap?”
“Both.” I wasn’t really a napper—I usually felt guilty about them, like there was always something I could be doing. But waking up next to Lucas on a rainy evening felt even better than crossing something off a list.
