Page 20 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
“Mercy? Never. Don’t show me any mercy.” My voice shook. I wasn’t sure what I was asking for, but I knew I wanted it. From him. Whatever he had, I wanted. All of it. And I would give him everything I had. No matter that yesterday I had had no idea that he even existed.
He rasped in my ear what sounded like a half moan, half laugh, and altogether sexy. He pushed inside me harder, faster this time and our bodies slapped together before he pulled back again. I lifted my hips to meet him, merge with him, feel him. All I did was feel now, no more thinking. Only him inside me, in and out and filling me, teasing me, testing me. I drowned in him, had nothing else but him inside me, felt nothing else but the dizzying escalation, that buzzing, vibrating in my legs and my sex.
With one hand stroking his back and neck and hair, I slipped my other hand between us to touch my most sensitive nub, to rub franticly as I felt myself spiral and he slammed hard and fast and my hips rose and pounded against him.
He took my hand from between us and adjusted his position, and the next time he pushed inside, I felt him rub against my clit, grinding and pulsing in a way that made stars burst before my eyes and I tried to call out, my mouth open but mute in paralyzing spasms of pleasure when I heard him.
He called my name and pushed against me, shuddering and tense and convulsing in and out while I felt his cum inside me and spilling from me, felt him and his orgasm merging with mine, my arms around him, hands all over him like I never wanted to let him go, never wanted this moment to end.
And itfeltendless as we tumbled with vibrating and seismic tension, rising and then lowering, slowly until the jolts were fewer and further apart, like some de-escalation of shock treatment—the most exquisite, mind-blowing shocks of pleasure I’d ever experienced, that anyone could ever experience.
After a while, soaked in sweat, we still held each other, on our sides, front to front. I felt sated and as my heart slowed from its roadrunner pace, I sighed and luxuriated in the heat of his body tangled with mine. When I braved moving from his embrace to lie on my back, he put his arm over my rib cage, his finger circling my nipple lazily, keeping it alert.
“Are you happy?”
I couldn’t believe he asked the question. I turned my head to see him staring at me.
“I am right now, being here with you, in this moment.”Make love to me forever.I didn’t say the words out loud but my eyes must have spoken, either that or he used his impressive mind-reading skills, because he breathed in deep and the look in his eyes crashed my heart and sent me spiraling. Wanting more of him, I reached my hand down to find the solid hard evidence of what I saw on his face.
We were both so unguarded, the risk we were taking made me wildly euphoric. The risk we were taking with each other was wildly crazy. I touched him, circling the tip, mimicking his caress of my fully alert nipple. Whatever sated state we’d thought we were in disappeared as he moved his arms around me, lifting me over him.
“You are so decadent, like the most sinful hot fudge sundae over a fudge brownie with whipped cream and—” I stopped talking, stopped breathing, as he pulled my hips onto him, feeling his hard pulsing cock fill me all at once.
“You were saying?” A teasing dimple showed, but his eyes were very serious, intense, and his hands were all over me.
I could no longer speak, but I moved on him so that he knew what I was about, knew how I felt, all exquisite intense passion and no talk at all.
After riding him into exhaustion, both of us overspent, I collapsed on him and stayed there, nuzzling my head in the crook of his neck and splayed across the hot warmth of his body, falling into an absolute sleep.
*****
The next thing I remembered was a soft knock on the door and a man whispering in my ear. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep and when I did, I shot upright, fell to Luke’s side, and disentangled myself from him. I was naked, uncovered by any blankets, and I should have been cold, but I felt hot. The fuzziness of sleep vanished in a rush of self-preservation, and the where and how and when of my situation crystalized in my head all at once.
“What time is it?” My voice was a panicked squeak.
He raised his wrist and said. “It’s 2 a.m. What time is your train?” His voice was a husky whisper in the dark.
I stood next to the bed, eyes adjusting as I stared at this magnificent example of manhood propped on his elbows, naked and gleaming in the starlight, and forgot for a second what the answer was. What time was that train?
“Shit. It was at 12:30.” I froze. There was another knock at the door, this time heavier.
“We’ll be right out,” he called. His voice held a more distinct lilt now, one that I recognized as an Italian accent.
Panic receded, giving way to my usual practical get-it-done self. Thank God it was still there under the deluge of self-indulgent wanton passion I’d been experiencing. I scrambled to pick up my clothes.
While he got out of bed—of course I watched him move from the corner of my eye—his usual elegant movement was unaffected by our evening of energy-sapping muscle-defying lovemaking—or sex.
Since there was no time with someone knocking at the door, I discarded the notion of a shower. I opened my luggage and pulled out fresh clothes—jeans and a sweater—and quickly folded the dress and other things into the bag. I replaced the strappy heels with tall, low-heeled boots. Before I had my sweater on, he was dressed and stood behind me, close, almost touching, watching me in the mirror. His expression was proprietary. I shivered, not sure if it was fear or excitement. Both.
What was I afraid of?
I was afraid of having an affair with this most inappropriate, yet compelling man. I had to be honest that it was more than his physical attributes, or even his exquisite lovemaking that held me.
He moved in, putting his arms around me, capturing my bra-cupped breasts in his hands and nuzzling my neck from behind. The shock waves of pleasure immobilized me. Gone, scattered, was the practical real me, banished within a flicker of an eyelash by this man and his touch, his presence, his everything. I think I groaned.
If it wasn’t for a third rap on the door, accompanied by Margo’s high-pitched voice of concern, I swear I would have jumped back in bed with him. As it was, he chuckled and said,
“I think it’s time we go. We may have overstayed our welcome.” Then he backed off and, taking the sweater from my paralyzed hands, he slipped it over my head.
