“Go ahead. Do it,” he growls, shifting in front of me so I’m forced to look at him. “Get on your knees and fucking thank me.”
I feel heat rush to my cheeks. “What?”
“It’s what you want, isn’t it? What this whole night was about? You were so desperate to get laid, you took home some psycho you met online, and he almost fucking killed you!”
I feign amusement, concealing the sting I feel at that insult. “The only time I was ever desperate to get laid was last summer, when I got bored and settled for you.”
His eyes darken. “The way I fucked you was never settling.”
“The way you fucked me required these afterward.” I hold up two fingers, wiggling them arrogantly.
He grabs my hand, bringing it between us, and leans in, so close that the only thing I can stare at is his mouth.
Oh, God, please back up.
“Luke,” I plea breathlessly, digging my back into the couch to try and put some space between us. He’s too close—way too fucking close right now.
“The only time those fingers touched that pussy last summer was when I made them, or when you were so fucking desperate for my cock, you’d beg me to make you come over the phone. I’m sure they’ve gotten a lot of use since me, but don’t stand there and act like I didn’t wring you out. You and I both know what it feels like when you come.”
I snatch my hand away from him. “You don’t know shit. I faked it.”
He grabs my neck, pinning his body against mine. “Do I need to remind you?”
“Remind me of what?”
I glare up at him as I try to ignore my reaction to this conversation, and his, as it presses into me. But that determination quickly vanishes when he slides his hand to the front of my panties and cups me there. I gasp through a moan, hating myself when it goes unnoticed.
“How quickly I can make you beg?” He slides a finger over my clit. “How I can make this enough? Go ahead. Tell me again you faked it. Let’s see if you can convince me before I make you come all over my hand.” One finger becomes two, rubbing up the length of me, pressing the material of my panties into my wetness. “Say it, Tessa.”
“No,” I answer through a moan.
“No, what? No you never faked it? Or no, this isn’t enough?”
My answer comes in the form of me grinding against his hand, needing the friction. Seeking more than just this, because he’s right, on both counts. I never faked it with him, and for the past year, this hasn’t been enough.
I reach down and palm his length, causing his hand to still. “What?” I ask, finally removing my gaze from his mouth and looking into his eyes. I give him a squeeze and he twitches. “You wanna tell me you’re faking this?”
His face remains completely serious, cold even, as he grabs my hand and prevents me from stroking him through his shorts. “I’m not interested in a partial hand job.”
“Who said anything about a hand job?”
He tilts his head, an arrogant gleam in his eye. “If you’re referring to actually finishing me off this time, that’s one thing. But if you’re talking about me fucking you, then you better think real hard about it.”
“But I don’t want to think. I want to do.”
“Tessa,” he warns. “I mean it. I will not have my cock buried deep inside you and have you tell me this isn’t what you want.”
I grip him harder, and his hold on me tightens. “Maybe you should just put your dick in my mouth, Luke. That way I can’t say anything at all.”
He grabs me, spinning me around until he’s pinning my front against the couch. His lips brush against my ear while his hands slide around my waist. “Maybe I should. That smartass mouth looks best when it’s wrapped around me.” Another brush against my clit has me arching into his touch. “You want more than this?”
“Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you? Yes. Y. E—”
“I know how to fucking spell it.” He interrupts me, keeping one hand between my legs while another cups my breast through my shirt. “Say please.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, glaring at him over my shoulder. A sharp inhale escapes me when he slides my panties to the side, dipping into me before bringing his mouth so close to mine I can practically taste it. A different hand, a different guy, and I wouldn’t be finding myself mouthing the word against his lips.
But it’s Luke.
My panties are slid down to my knees, my body bowing over the couch as he shoves my shirt over my head and discards it somewhere. A hand flattens against the small of my back, sliding up my spine, and my body pulses as he grips my shoulder and holds me in place.
I feel the unmistakable nudge of his cock as he rubs it between my cheeks. Bare.
“Wait.”
He freezes, his hand on my shoulder tightening. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Condom.” I strain my neck to look at him, seeing the aversion to my request play on his features. Deep frown lines set in as his amber eyes blaze into mine. I ignore the effect that has on everything below my waist and straighten with a glare. “Spare me your views on wrapping that thing up, Luke. If we’re doing this, you’re wearing one.”
His chest heaves with an inhale as he steps back, that sexy-as-hell smirk touching his lips. My eyes take in the bulge of his bicep, the ink running down his arm to his hand as he leisurely strokes his cock.
“If you’re going to stare at me like that, get on your knees and do it. You’ll like that angle better.”
My eyes meet his with a challenge. “I’m not staring.”
“Yeah, babe, you are.” His eyes drop to my chest. “Watch. This is what it looks like.”
I cross my arms blocking his view. “Don’t call me that. And stop pretending your hand feels better than me and go get a condom.”
His gaze lowers and his tongue grazes over his bottom lip. “If you want me to wear one so bad, go fucking get it yourself.”
I push off from the couch. “God, you’re such an asshole,” I snarl, stalking past him down the hallway and grabbing the unopened box out of my nightstand drawer.
I was planning on getting it, thank you very much. There’s no way in hell I’d let Luke be the first to crack open my purchase from twelve months ago. How embarrassing would that be? But he’s definitely wearing one. I don’t care how much he hates it. After last summer, I’m done taking chances and relying solely on my method of birth control. Not even for this one time. This one moment of desperation. Because that’s all this will be.
I walk back into the living room, halting at the sight of him naked, smugly leaning against the couch. He shifts when I enter, gripping the couch behind him and giving me full view of his heavy cock as it hangs between his legs. It’s no longer hard, but that doesn’t ease the effect it has on me. Not at all.
I force myself to move and stop in front of him. “Here.”
He looks down at the condom, then back at me. “What are you waiting for? Put it on.”
“What?”
He grabs my hand, gripping the condom between his teeth and tearing the wrapper. “You heard me. You might want to get me hard first, otherwise you’re going to have a helluva time.”
I feel heat rush to my cheeks. “What?”
“It’s what you want, isn’t it? What this whole night was about? You were so desperate to get laid, you took home some psycho you met online, and he almost fucking killed you!”
I feign amusement, concealing the sting I feel at that insult. “The only time I was ever desperate to get laid was last summer, when I got bored and settled for you.”
His eyes darken. “The way I fucked you was never settling.”
“The way you fucked me required these afterward.” I hold up two fingers, wiggling them arrogantly.
He grabs my hand, bringing it between us, and leans in, so close that the only thing I can stare at is his mouth.
Oh, God, please back up.
“Luke,” I plea breathlessly, digging my back into the couch to try and put some space between us. He’s too close—way too fucking close right now.
“The only time those fingers touched that pussy last summer was when I made them, or when you were so fucking desperate for my cock, you’d beg me to make you come over the phone. I’m sure they’ve gotten a lot of use since me, but don’t stand there and act like I didn’t wring you out. You and I both know what it feels like when you come.”
I snatch my hand away from him. “You don’t know shit. I faked it.”
He grabs my neck, pinning his body against mine. “Do I need to remind you?”
“Remind me of what?”
I glare up at him as I try to ignore my reaction to this conversation, and his, as it presses into me. But that determination quickly vanishes when he slides his hand to the front of my panties and cups me there. I gasp through a moan, hating myself when it goes unnoticed.
“How quickly I can make you beg?” He slides a finger over my clit. “How I can make this enough? Go ahead. Tell me again you faked it. Let’s see if you can convince me before I make you come all over my hand.” One finger becomes two, rubbing up the length of me, pressing the material of my panties into my wetness. “Say it, Tessa.”
“No,” I answer through a moan.
“No, what? No you never faked it? Or no, this isn’t enough?”
My answer comes in the form of me grinding against his hand, needing the friction. Seeking more than just this, because he’s right, on both counts. I never faked it with him, and for the past year, this hasn’t been enough.
I reach down and palm his length, causing his hand to still. “What?” I ask, finally removing my gaze from his mouth and looking into his eyes. I give him a squeeze and he twitches. “You wanna tell me you’re faking this?”
His face remains completely serious, cold even, as he grabs my hand and prevents me from stroking him through his shorts. “I’m not interested in a partial hand job.”
“Who said anything about a hand job?”
He tilts his head, an arrogant gleam in his eye. “If you’re referring to actually finishing me off this time, that’s one thing. But if you’re talking about me fucking you, then you better think real hard about it.”
“But I don’t want to think. I want to do.”
“Tessa,” he warns. “I mean it. I will not have my cock buried deep inside you and have you tell me this isn’t what you want.”
I grip him harder, and his hold on me tightens. “Maybe you should just put your dick in my mouth, Luke. That way I can’t say anything at all.”
He grabs me, spinning me around until he’s pinning my front against the couch. His lips brush against my ear while his hands slide around my waist. “Maybe I should. That smartass mouth looks best when it’s wrapped around me.” Another brush against my clit has me arching into his touch. “You want more than this?”
“Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you? Yes. Y. E—”
“I know how to fucking spell it.” He interrupts me, keeping one hand between my legs while another cups my breast through my shirt. “Say please.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, glaring at him over my shoulder. A sharp inhale escapes me when he slides my panties to the side, dipping into me before bringing his mouth so close to mine I can practically taste it. A different hand, a different guy, and I wouldn’t be finding myself mouthing the word against his lips.
But it’s Luke.
My panties are slid down to my knees, my body bowing over the couch as he shoves my shirt over my head and discards it somewhere. A hand flattens against the small of my back, sliding up my spine, and my body pulses as he grips my shoulder and holds me in place.
I feel the unmistakable nudge of his cock as he rubs it between my cheeks. Bare.
“Wait.”
He freezes, his hand on my shoulder tightening. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Condom.” I strain my neck to look at him, seeing the aversion to my request play on his features. Deep frown lines set in as his amber eyes blaze into mine. I ignore the effect that has on everything below my waist and straighten with a glare. “Spare me your views on wrapping that thing up, Luke. If we’re doing this, you’re wearing one.”
His chest heaves with an inhale as he steps back, that sexy-as-hell smirk touching his lips. My eyes take in the bulge of his bicep, the ink running down his arm to his hand as he leisurely strokes his cock.
“If you’re going to stare at me like that, get on your knees and do it. You’ll like that angle better.”
My eyes meet his with a challenge. “I’m not staring.”
“Yeah, babe, you are.” His eyes drop to my chest. “Watch. This is what it looks like.”
I cross my arms blocking his view. “Don’t call me that. And stop pretending your hand feels better than me and go get a condom.”
His gaze lowers and his tongue grazes over his bottom lip. “If you want me to wear one so bad, go fucking get it yourself.”
I push off from the couch. “God, you’re such an asshole,” I snarl, stalking past him down the hallway and grabbing the unopened box out of my nightstand drawer.
I was planning on getting it, thank you very much. There’s no way in hell I’d let Luke be the first to crack open my purchase from twelve months ago. How embarrassing would that be? But he’s definitely wearing one. I don’t care how much he hates it. After last summer, I’m done taking chances and relying solely on my method of birth control. Not even for this one time. This one moment of desperation. Because that’s all this will be.
I walk back into the living room, halting at the sight of him naked, smugly leaning against the couch. He shifts when I enter, gripping the couch behind him and giving me full view of his heavy cock as it hangs between his legs. It’s no longer hard, but that doesn’t ease the effect it has on me. Not at all.
I force myself to move and stop in front of him. “Here.”
He looks down at the condom, then back at me. “What are you waiting for? Put it on.”
“What?”
He grabs my hand, gripping the condom between his teeth and tearing the wrapper. “You heard me. You might want to get me hard first, otherwise you’re going to have a helluva time.”
