Chapter 3 #2
“Are you feeling better now?” I asked instead.
Her eyes grew heavy as my hand settled at her waist, my thumb gliding upward before sliding back down to press into the curve of her hip.
“For the most part,” she murmured.
I hummed as my hand fell from her face, dragging down her chest, grazing her nipples on its descent to her thigh. “Let’s see what we can do to make it all better.”
When her breath stuttered this time, I smirked, scrunching her skirt in my fist and pulling it higher.
“Wh-what are you going to do?” she whispered, her breath warm against my skin.
Holding her gaze, I slowly lowered to my knees and stroked my palms up the silky-smooth skin of her thighs, pushing her skirt over her hips.
She gasped when I pressed my nose against her damp panties.
“I’m going to make you forget your day. I’m going to make you forget everything except what it feels like to have my tongue buried deep inside your cunt. ”
“Yes,” she hissed.
I pulled her panties aside, brushed my thumb up and down her wet slit, and cocked a brow. “Yes…”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” I parted her and roughly shoved two fingers deep as my lips latched onto her clit.
Her blissful cry shot bolts of pleasure down my spine, making me yearn for more. I curled my fingers inside her and flicked my tongue, bringing her to the edge of orgasm quickly. Only to ease off a moment later.
I repeated the process, earning a whimper each time.
“Lucian,” she pleaded into closed ears. “Oh, god. Please.”
“Not yet, princess,” I groaned against her.
Her hips rocked, fucking my hand—my face. One palm scraped for purchase against the cabinets, while the other clutched my shoulder, needing support as I continued to tease her.
Not until her wetness slid down her thighs, coated my chin, and dripped into my palm, did I finally give in. I added another finger and pushed my other hand up her body to twist her nipple tight, sucking at her clit.
Like the calm before a storm, her breaths halted along with the grinding of her hips as the walls of her pussy fluttered softly.
The stillness a prelude to the orgasm that quickly followed.
Her cunt spasmed around my fingers, making my cock jealous of the tight pulses.
Her whimpers morphed into cries and moans, escaping around gasps for air.
All while her hips pushed against my face, searching for more.
I carried her through it, giving her everything she needed to let go and sink into the blissful pleasure. I softened my touch, easing her back to reality, and replaced my fingers with my tongue, eager to lick up every ounce of her cum.
“Fuck, you taste good.”
She mumbled something incoherent, then sagged back against the cabinets, her body yielding and spent.
Exactly how I wanted her.
Standing, I pressed myself close and dragged my damp nose along her cheek to her ear and whispered, “Again.”
Her gaze jerked to mine; brows pinched. “What?”
“I said,” I explained slowly. “Again.”
“But I…I can’t.”
“Oh, princess…” I chuckled and gripped her arm, guiding her to face the island counter. Standing behind her, I pressed my cheek to hers. “What did I say about your orgasms?”
She shook her head, her breath coming in soft pants. “I-I…”
I placed her hands on the counter before gripping her hips. “I said that they’re mine. So, if I want you to give me another, you will.”
“Lucian…”
Everything started between us when she confessed her inability to orgasm. Since then, every ounce of pleasure I wrought from her delectable body, knowing I was the only man able to make her lose control, left me with a high I craved. Her submission filled me with a desperate eagerness for more.
I pressed my palm to the center of her back, bending her over the quartz top. “Shh-shh-shh, princess,” I soothed, returning to my knees.
Pushing her skirt back over her hips, I fisted the black lace, caressing her soft curves. With a sharp twist, I ripped her panties and shoved them in my pocket as I buried my face back between her thighs.
She cried out, and I lost myself to the sound. I lost myself in her. Unlike last time, I didn’t play. I became a hunter, giving everything I had into winning another orgasm from her.
She pressed her face against her arms, muffling her moans as she rocked back into me. My cock throbbed against my pants, begging to be let free to fuck her through her pleasure, but I couldn’t. Not when the feel and taste of her had me riding the edge of my own control.
Instead, I focused on her.
Within minutes, I was rewarded with more tight pulses from her cunt, more screams marking the sharpness of her orgasm, more cum sliding down my throat and chin.
Fuck, I wanted to spend the rest of the night feasting on her. I wanted to make her come again and again. While the idea flooded me with heat, it wasn’t what she needed. I set the selfish desire aside and focused on easing her down from her high, coaxing her to stay relaxed after her stressful day.
After a few last kisses to her damp thighs, I tugged her skirt back in place and stood, pulling her around into my arms. “You did so well. Such a good girl,” I praised against her ear, stroking up and down her back. “Thank you for your orgasms. Such a precious gift. And all mine.”
“Yes. All yours,” she breathed, leaning completely into me.
An animalistic pride surged through my veins, pulling up the corners of my mouth as I guided her to a barstool and lifted her onto the seat. “Sit while I make us dinner.”
I pressed a kiss to her temple and returned to the stove across from her, reigniting the flame under the pots.
She rested her chin in her palm and studied me through eyes softened by exhaustion, the earlier frenzy gone, leaving only quiet warmth behind.
I let her look her fill, savoring the weight of her gaze as it followed my every movement, certain a thousand questions or comments were gathering in that beautiful mind of hers.
Knowing she’d spill her thoughts eventually, I savored the soft jazz still playing through the speakers and waited.
I didn’t have to wait long.
“My dad wants to announce our engagement at the gala this weekend.” Her sullen tone made her thoughts on the idea clear.
“Announce? How so?”
“Maybe not actually announce.” She sat up, her eyes wide. “God, I hope he doesn’t want to make a formal announcement in front of everyone. I’m thinking—hoping—that he means more like just letting people know in general that we’re engaged.”
I laughed at the horrified look on her face, though inside, warmth surged through me, urging me to stand taller with pride.
I imagined holding her in my arms on a stage, her father announcing over the microphone that we were getting married, every gaze heavy with envy as they realized that she was mine, completely. “Either way, I’m sure it will be fine.”
A soft snort escaped her, and she eased her chin back onto her hand, eyes lingering on me with quiet amusement. “You should probably talk to my father. He was less than thrilled that you asked me to marry you without ever saying anything to him.”
“How very modern of him,” I deadpanned.
“Trust me, I said the same thing. But I explained your lack of sharing due to my request that you wait until I talked to him.”
“Well, I’m sure I’ll see him at the gala.”
“Absolutely not,” she objected, brows pulling low. “There will already be so much going on, including his announcement plans. The last thing we need is an uncomfortable conversation in front of a crowd.”
“Who says it will be uncomfortable? Your father likes me.”
“I’m aware,” she grumbled. “But it would be uncomfortable for me. The event is stressful enough without any added important conversations.”
“Fine,” I conceded. “I’ll invite him to lunch before then.”
“Thank you.” She sighed and relaxed back against the counter, her eyes returning to me as I moved around the kitchen.
Her head tilted as I pulled out the tray of chicken nuggets, lips pursed when I spooned spaghetti sauce across the top of each. “What are you making?”
“Chicken Parmesan.”
“Uhhh…that is not chicken parmesan.”
I laughed, finding her scrunched features adorable.
Adorable? Since when did I find anything adorable? Let alone a woman?
Shaking off the thought, I explained. “My mom used to make this for me all the time. She said that just because she wasn’t a good cook didn’t mean we couldn’t have nice meals.”
Aspen laughed, and that damn word—adorable—reappeared. “I like the way she thought.”
“Me too. It didn’t matter that we had a housekeeper who made our meals; she insisted on cooking every once in a while.
My father and I ate them up, no matter how terrible they might have been.
” I sprinkled cheese over the sauce and laughed, recalling a specific memory.
“One time, she said she wanted something fresh. Since she knew how to cook spaghetti, she tried to adapt it into a lemon-parmesan pasta. It…was not good.”
“Oh, no!”
“She paired it with a salad, and while she ate her salad first, we ate our pasta. It tasted like she made the noodles out of lemons. When I pulled a face at how bitter it was, my dad kicked me under the table and gave me a look that said I’d better eat it.
So, we did. And when my mom asked how it was, we smiled.
It wasn’t until she took a bite of her own that we could finally admit how bad it was.
She spat hers out and asked us how the hell we could eat something so gross. ”
“Oh, my god. That is hilarious,” Aspen exclaimed. “She was lucky to have two men who loved her so much.”
My smile faltered, and I slid the tray back in the oven. “She was.”
Aspen’s smile fell away. “Sometimes it’s hard to talk about them.”
“Yeah. But it’s good, too. She was an amazing woman, and my dad loved her more than anything. It made sense that they died together. I hated losing them both, but I couldn’t imagine one being as happy and vibrant as they were without the other.”