Chapter 26 Chelsea
Chelsea
MY HEART IS thrumming in my ears as Luca pulls me down a long hallway, his hand enfolding mine. I feel untethered. Like an outlaw. I don’t know how Luca keeps doing it, but he makes me, a lifelong good girl, want to be very, very bad.
We walk past two closed doors and at the third we stop and enter a guest bedroom. Clearly, it’s Luca’s for the night, based on his distinctive duffel bag being in a far corner.
After shutting the door behind us, Luca pulls on it pointedly, making sure it’s securely locked.
When he confirms that it is, he barrels toward me with hunger in his dark eyes.
Luca is the funniest, silliest person I’ve ever met, but in this moment, I’d never know he has that side to him.
No, in this moment, he looks like a killer. A shark after getting a whiff of blood.
When he reaches me, he pulls me to him and kisses me passionately, and that’s all it takes for the same nuclear bomb that went off last night to detonate again, and with every bit as much fury and desperation.
In fact, we might even be more frenetic this time, if that’s possible, because we both know the unparalleled pleasures that await us.
Breathlessly, I tug on Luca’s shirt, and he rips it off, revealing his beautiful chest and torso. But there’s no time to ogle him. Not when he’s frantically yanking off my dress like it’s on fire.
When my clothes are off, Luca quickly removes the undergarments from my body, too. And when I’m standing before him naked, he leans down and energetically devours my breasts.
“Oh, God,” I blurt when he sucks ferociously on one of my hard nipples. “Luca, I have to lie down for this.”
Luca dispenses of his jeans in record speed.
And then his briefs. And when he’s standing before me, naked, hard, and glorious, he guides me to the bed.
Like last night, he eats me out first, with extreme enthusiasm, and quickly brings me to a powerful orgasm that’s so body-quaking, it brings tears of euphoria to my eyes.
“Luca,” I whisper hoarsely as my pleasure comes down. “I need you inside me.” It’s an accurate statement. I don’t merely want this man to plow me; I physically need to feel him inside me, filling me up, the same way I’d imagine an addict needs her next fix.
Luca’s dark eyes flicker with feral greed. Breathing hard, and with the evidence of my arousal all over his lips and chin, he bounds over to his duffel bag in the corner and returns with a condom wrapped around his straining cock.
“You came prepared.”
“I knew you were all talk.”
I’m annoyed he foresaw this moment. But not enough to walk away to teach him a lesson. Not nearly enough.
He lies on the bed and pulls me on top of him.
And as his full length impales me, we both groan at the delicious sensation.
When he’s all the way in, he grabs my hips and guides me, and I launch into gyrating and snapping my hips back and forth on top of him, every motion of my body designed to squeeze the most pleasure out of every movement.
Luca’s plainly losing his mind underneath me.
In fact, he’s not trying to hide or muffle it.
As his eyelids flutter and increasingly animalistic noises escape him, he grips my hips even more tightly for dear life and grits out a stream of dirty talk and compliments.
Between moans and groans, he mutters that I’m gorgeous, perfect, that I feel so fucking good and look so fucking hot.
He says I’m going to kill him with pleasure, but it’s exactly how he wants to go.
He says my pussy is magic. That the way I taste is so addictive, I should be illegal.
And on and on. And I love every second of it.
So much so, I’m now humping him frantically.
Desperately. On my way to the highest peak of my own pleasure.
When I’m on the cusp of losing it, Luca brings one hand to my clit and the other to my breast, and as he massages with one hand and gropes with the other, it’s like he’s cranked some imaginary dial to high.
All of a sudden, my eyes roll back violently, my vision warps and blurs, and my lower abdomen feels like it’s tightening sharply in preparation for a massive release.
I’m sweating. Flushed. On the bitter cusp.
Practically whimpering, I begin rocking back and forth on top of Luca with even more abandon, while he works my clit and growls underneath me like an animal caught in a trap.
We can’t go on like this. Truly. One or both of us is going to physically explode.
Finally, relief comes: a shattering release that crashes into me like a tsunami, one that takes my breath away and sends my entire body convulsing like I’m having a seizure.
As I cry out with the best orgasm of my life, I’m vaguely aware of Luca coming beneath me, of his body bucking and jolting and rippling inside mine.
I dig my fingernails into his bare chest and ride the final waves throttling me, and when they finally subside, I buckle over him, collapse forward in a heap, and try to catch my ragged breath.
For a long moment, Luca stays inside me, breathing hard, while I lie on top of him in a sweaty, spent puddle, trying to wrangle my racing thoughts and make sense of what I’m feeling.
Sex with Luca isn’t normal. It feels better than anything I’ve ever felt in my life, physically.
But it’s bigger than that. When we come together, I feel like my very soul is electrified and shooting through a sky full of stars.
Fuck.
If someone had told me mere weeks ago this is where I’d be today—crumpled on top of Luca after fucking him in a back bedroom at Roman Maguire’s mansion—I would have laughed in their face.
And yet, here I am, doing exactly that, and all because Luca’s cast some kind of a spell on me—one I can’t seem to shake off or guard against with the usual walls I’ve gotten so good at putting up in romantic situations.
Luca whispers, “Come here, mathlete.”
He pulls me in for a gentle kiss, and I give him what he wants while telling myself not to panic. To stop freaking out and live in the glorious moment.
“Don’t even try to tell me that was another one-off,” he whispers as he rubs his nose affectionately against mine and smiles. “I’m addicted now, baby, so what we just did is going to be a daily thing.”