Chapter 17
Seventeen
AMARA
I sat on the edge of his bed, working the front of Luka’s pants. I shrugged them to his ankles, and he stepped out.
“You’re shivering,” he spoke calmly.
I wasn’t going to stop. Nothing would stop me from being with this man.
Next, I worked the fitted athletic boxers down the wide muscular planes of his thighs. My hands caressed the backs of his legs, letting my fingers steal touches of skin and tautness before I turned my full attention to what was right in front of me.
That was when I had my moment of admiration. I had envisioned what his full naked body would look like, but the real Luka, standing in front of me was more beautiful than any dream I had conjured. There was another tattoo that wrapped around his thigh. My palm pressed against it as if it had its own beating pulse. It was a tree with branches wrapping in all directions. I kissed his skin, running my tongue along the lines of his ink, following the branches one by one. Upward. Inward.
“There’s no coming back from this,” he whispered. “You must know who I am by now, Amara. I’m not a good man.”
“I don’t want to come back from this,” I answered, pulling him toward me. “And you are a good man. I know who you are. Shut up and let me have a turn with your gorgeous body.”
I wanted to taste him the way he had devoured me. My eyes lifted to his, begging him to touch his cock to my lips. I didn’t know if I would beg for it, but something told me I would for the chance to feel him inside my mouth. I wanted every rugged inch of this man. I pushed off the bed and sank to my knees in front of him. My body naked, bare, ready.
He groaned, closing his eyes and offering himself to me. My tongue landed gently on the dewey drop on the head of his erection. My doubts that I could please this man faded when I was with him. Our bodies knew each other in this life and in a past one too, I swore. His hips jutted forward just enough as I parted my mouth and began to take him inside. He hissed as my tongue swirled over the ridges.
“Fuck, that feels good, my little otyonok ,” he growled, wrapping his hands through my hair, playing with the long layers until he had twisted fistfuls in his hands. I felt his restraint. He was holding back from fully thrusting himself to the back of my throat. I wanted to dare him to try me. I wanted to show him I could take him.
He gave me more and more of himself in shallow gulps, letting me coat him with my tongue and mouth, teasing the engorged vein running along the length of him. My nails raked up the back of his legs, squeezing and massaging him, urging him to fuck me fully, but he had more restraint than I could comprehend. Please, I begged. Please unleash yourself on me.
I moaned, taking him deeper. He staggered closer, groaning as he pulled my head more firmly to his waist. Shit. This was incredible. He smelled like cedar and masculinity. The edges of tobacco seeped in around us. He wrapped his fist against his cock, feeding me more, leading me to the next high.
I dared to open my eyes and when I looked up, Luka was looking at me. My chest hummed wildly. My nipples hardened. I had a desperate need to touch myself and him at the same time, all because of a god damned look from him. There was something in it that reminded me of the first night on Bourbon Street. A look of power and control. A sexy smirk that meant I would fall to my knees for him. Did he know then that one day he would have me like this?
And then he was free from my mouth and towering over me. I pouted, but the energy between us was still urgent. He lifted me from the floor and lowered me to the bed.
His fingers tangled through mine and he pitched forward, forcing me to lie back against the cool sheets. I was nervous. The power radiated off his body. So did the lust and the darkness. Our eyes met and I wanted to tell him I’d thought about this for so many nights. But he was pressing the swollen head of his cock against my entrance, and I lost any words I tried to form. His cock was warm and slick. Solid. Smooth. I smiled at him. We had been building and building to this moment. Both of us climbing and clawing at each other with no interruptions. We fought to be here. To be together. To fuck like we belonged together .
“Teach me more,” I pleaded.
“Dusha moya,” His voice vibrated.
I thought I would combust from the want I had for this man. He let me adjust slowly. We were each held captive in that moment before he was inside me. The last time my body would exist without knowing what it was like to have Luka knitted into my skin.
“What does it mean?” I bit my lip.
“My soul.” He hypnotized me with his words.
“Fuck me, Luka, dusha moya,” I whimpered. I was shaking with the anticipation. I’d never wanted anyone so badly in my life.
I saw the darkest flames I’d ever seen cover his eyes as he pushed inside me with a stroke that told me he was going to take his time, making every part of me his. I would feel everything. All of him. The solid, muscled Adonis, who had climbed on top of me and was now inching his way inside me with the most pleasurable and sinful maneuvers. My world spun upside down. He filled me completely, fully followed by another thrust more demanding, more potent. I gasped for air. Our bodies slid together, the friction unbearable. We shuddered together at the impact of finally being skin against skin. I bit his shoulder and clawed against his back. He was relentless in pursuit of sealing our fate. Making us one. My body hummed and throbbed. His panting became rougher, deeper. Had any man buried himself inside me like this? Like this was our last breath? Our last night on earth? It was incredible and intoxicating.
I traced the side of his face and followed the line of the tattoo that snaked its way around his bicep. I saw a silver scar jagged against his chest. I leaned forward to kiss it. I wondered how he had gotten this one. Was it in his Bratva training? Was it when a deal had gone wrong? Had someone tried to kill him? He threw me off focus with a thrust so deep I cried out, falling back hard on the bed. He rooted against my body, grinding, hilting his way to my soul.
“For this, yes,” I whispered. “Yes. Let’s leave, Luka.”
He didn’t respond.
His pace quickened. A desperate speed that called more orgasms from me like shooting stars or fireworks being flung from a Roman candle.
“Remember this, Amara,” he pleaded. “Fuck. Remember how I fucked you like this. Please.”
I nodded, never wanting to forget any of it. I couldn’t register what he was saying, only that I was flooded with sensation and pleasure. Everywhere he touched me was like a little pulse of electricity followed by warmth.
“I want you to remember it too.” I grinned, trying to wrap my legs tightly around him in an effort to flip him onto his back.
He shook his head. “No.” His voice was firm.
I felt the confusion course through me. I worried he didn’t trust me entirely to give up control. To ride him with the same type of satisfaction that he took with me. We could work on it together. Next time. His head dipped and he took my nipple between his lips, sucking greedily. My back arched in total awe. I knew then I’d give him control of all of me. Anywhere he wanted to touch or lick, was his to claim.
“Oh fuck, me Luka. Please don’t stop,” I begged. “Keep. Doing. That. ”
“Don’t hate me, Amara.” I knew his orgasm was close. His face was red and gripped with anticipation.
“Never.” I smiled and then let out a shocked cry when he dragged my ass to the end of the bed. His feet landed on the floor. He held his powerful cock in his hand. I looked between us. The man was on a mission.
He brought my ankles to his shoulders as he angled his swollen length against my entrance.
“You’re going to come for me, baby?” His eyes locked on mine. “Krasivyy, krasivyy. So fucking beautiful.”
I nodded obligingly. I would come as many times as he wanted, needed, or asked. As long as it felt like this I would always be a willing participant in his sexual Olympics.
My ass smacked against his skin and he held my legs, going deeper. His thumb swiped over my clit and his eyes flickered to mine, knowing that was the spot.
I cried out his name as the climax shook me. My hands covered my breasts, trying to harness the exquisite pain and pleasure running through all my veins. I coated him with slickness and a squeeze so hard I knew I had him seconds away from climaxing too.
“No matter what, you’re mine now. I swear it. Ty moya. Forgive me.”
I didn’t register what he was saying, only that speaking Russian in bed was the hottest fucking sound my ears had heard. Yes, more of that, please. I wanted to be his student. I wanted to learn all the beautiful words. The dirty words. The words that did the same thing to him that they did to me. I wanted to turn him on and please him .
“Ty moya,” I repeated, seeing anguish in his eyes.
My body ripped with pulses from roaring orgasms. My legs eased a little wider, my hips rolled a little more forward. I wanted him so deep we’d never forget the way we bruised each other. A permanent scar. A tattoo inside us from this moment forward. He exploded inside me with a roar that nearly made me cry. There was pain and beauty in the sound. Grief, Agony. Primal need for me . A wild unleashing that claimed me. I wasn’t ready for the way this man came. I should have prepared myself for the full destruction and reconstruction of my soul once I climbed onto his bed. But I hadn’t thought it through. Need got me here. Need made me undress and call him to satisfy me. Need made me want to do things I’d never done with another man. Need let the most dangerous man I’d ever known claim me as his own.
He collapsed on top of me, the weight of his body nearly crushing me, but I didn’t want to say a word. He wrapped his arms around my body, stilling his cock deep inside me. It was perfect. It was magic.
I grinned when our pulses began to steady and my legs stopped shaking. I slowly unwrapped the grip I had around his waist. My fingers curled against the hard indentations on his shoulders. I loved every inch of him. The scars. The bruises. The tattoos. I kissed his sweaty brow.
“That was amazing. Luka, it was…”
He extracted himself from my body. Cold air rushed between us. He stood tall, wiping the front of his chest and waist with the sheet that had fallen to the floor. There had been no modesty and no need for covers today.
“You should go,” he whispered. He wouldn’t look at me .
“What? I don’t have to. You don’t have anything to worry about. Ciro wouldn’t dare to come up here. I think he has an idea of what we’re doing.” I tried to reach for him to pull him back to the bed.
“Yes, you do,” he corrected me. “It’s time for you to leave.”
He walked to the other room and returned with my clothes. He had picked up the bottle of gin and took a drink from the mouth of the bottle I watched him, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on.
“I’ll stay. We can order dinner.” I peeled myself off the bed carefully, reaching for the clothes he had absently tossed next to me. I tucked my breasts inside my dress. They still felt raw and warm from his teeth. I felt the warmth of his essence between my thighs. I didn’t see my underwear in the pile. It must still be under the piano.
“Maybe we should take a shower?” I suggested. I wanted to stand under the water and wash his glorious body from head to toe. I had questions too. About the scars. About all of him. Maybe not so much about how he knew how to fuck like a sex god.
“I can’t. I can’t do this. With you.” His eyes cut to me, and I didn’t understand. I’d felt the sting of rejection before, but not like this. Not after a moment like we just had. We were not done. We had only started being us.
“Us, are you talking about us?” I pressed, trying to hold down the nausea in my stomach.
“There is no us, Amara,” he snapped. “You are not listening.”
I recoiled. He spoke to me like I was a bratty teenager. “Luka, just tell me what happened…I know something happened with my father. ”
“No,” he barked. “You have to go.” He took another swig of gin.
“How drunk are you?”
“Not drunk enough. We will not see each other again. Go.”
I scrambled to my feet, throwing clothes on. I tried to straighten my dress in place while biting the inside of my cheek. I didn’t want him to see a tear. He wouldn’t. I didn’t get fucked and then cry about it.
“Why?” I whispered. “Why even…” I couldn’t say the words. I took a step toward the skinny French doors. They reached the tops of the twelve-foot ceiling. Luca’s hand clasped around my wrist, stopping me from leaving.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. It had to be done.” He said it as if he was stating the terms of an arms negotiation. “Remember what I said,” he pressed the words into my memory. “If you try to come back I will tell Ciro to keep you away.”
I closed my eyes. “What was your plan with this? Taking me to bed? Why?”
“To make sure you never come back.” He released my arm and stumbled toward the piano. I watched in disbelief as he finished off the bottle and smashed it against the farthest wall. He started to play. It was haunting. As haunting as the demons I had seen in his eyes.
I didn’t look for my green satin underwear. I ran out of the room and down the stairs. The door opened into the sunlight. Ciro and Joey both waited outside the car.
“We’re headed home.” I ducked into the backseat. I refused to look up at the window as we drove away.
All I knew was that Luka had accomplished his plan. I would never come back.