Chapter Thirty-Seven
LUCY
They didn’t speak a word on the trip through the Lusso, or on the elevator to the fortieth floor.
Lucy could feel the quiet determination in Nicky’s shoulders, set firm and square.
She knew that the squeeze of his hand meant stop and go, that the rapid blink of his eyes was frustration at the glacial pace of the elevator.
All the while, Lucy became angrier. Every calm, measured step Nicky took ratcheted up her rage.
Her body was still, but inside she could feel her wrath coiling tighter.
How dare he make her feel things? How dare he take their benign casual arrangement and douse it in lighter fluid with his whispered lyrics? It was supposed to be easy this time. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.
When the door to his suite had opened and closed again with a thunk, his mouth was on hers. He was gentle, tender. His lips grazed hers in soft caresses, his tongue playing carefully with hers in delicate tremors.
But Lucy didn’t want him sweet and slow.
She didn’t want to sit in every moment, wishing they weren’t counting down to the end.
Lucy didn’t want to savor it. She wanted to burn.
Even if it was only for a few blistering minutes.
She had been a part of enough last times.
She didn’t want to feel it again. Not with him.
‘No,’ she said, backing out of his hold. ‘What was that back there? Whispering to me. Singing to me.’
‘I’m trying to say I’m sorry. For all of it. I’m sorr—’
‘No!’ Lucy shouted. ‘You don’t get to do that now. You don’t get to be soft and sorry and decent.’ It’ll be too hard to never see you again. ‘Fuck that.’
Lucy slipped out of her high heels and kicked them away, yanked the heavy jeweled flower from her hair. Heard it ping against the marble of the entryway. She grabbed Nicky’s shoulders and turned him, slamming his back against the wall and attacking his mouth. Taking control.
She clawed at the side of her dress, beads popping as she jerked the zipper down. With her mouth still on his, she slipped her arms free and the heavy thing pooled on the floor with a rattle and hum.
Nicky pulled away, stared at her. His eyes took a leisurely trip over her collarbones and her bare breasts, down to the scrap of nude silk that was her only remaining piece of clothing.
His thumbs grazed the aching points of her nipples in long, deliberate strokes. A slinking, listless rebellion against her alacrity.
Nope.
Lucy tore at Nicky’s tuxedo, peeling his jacket off and dragging it roughly from his arms. She snatched his belt, unbuckling and pulling it free with an eager thwack .
She tore at the button of his pants, then unzipped them with speed and thrust her hand inside, wrapping her fingers around his cock.
She pulled once, twice, three times with a firm grip.
‘ Fuck ,’ he breathed, tipping his head back against the wall.
Nicky’s left hand found the cuff of his right sleeve and he unbuttoned it slowly.
He raised his arms and did the same again with the left.
When his fingers moved unhurriedly to his bow tie, tugging it loose in what could only be described as slow-fucking-motion, Lucy was fully fed up with his insubordination.
She snatched the two halves of his shirt and pulled with every ounce of her strength. Buttons popped off in every direction. She snapped her teeth on his nipple, hard. Then laved it with her tongue when he hissed at the pleasure and pain of it.
‘Behave,’ she growled.
With both hands to his chest, Lucy pushed herself out of his hold and stepped away.
She sauntered toward the bedroom, only deviating from her quest long enough to slip her hands in the strings of her thong. She bent over at the waist, dragging the panties down her legs and kicking them away.
Lucy could feel Nicky stalking behind her, as though they had been connected by string and the thing was snapping taut.
When Nicky entered the room, Lucy circled to his back and wrenched the shirt from his arms, scraping her fingernails across the tattoo of her name as she went. She dug in so hard that her freshly manicured tips left three sharp red lines in their wake.
She pushed Nicky roughly, turning him around and shoving him onto the bed with such force that the frame creaked when his back bounced onto the mattress.
Lucy tugged the shoes from his feet. Made quick work of his socks and pants and boxers until there was nothing but tattoos and skin on display. Until she could see his cock, rigid and weeping.
Lucy mounted the bed and prowled over him on hands and knees. He raised himself up on his elbows and put his hands over hers.
He breathed, ‘ Lou .’
It came out sad and syrupy sweet. Her only response was a groan of frustration. She didn’t want his endearments. She couldn’t endure any more of his loving words. So, she shut him up with her mouth, smothering his tender moans with her prickly ones.
She pushed the nail of her index finger into his chest, right between the eyes of that California bear, forcing Nicky back where she wanted him – supine and at her mercy.
Lucy raked her teeth on his neck. Nipped at the ink on his chest. Ground her hips shamelessly into his until she couldn’t stand it any longer.
Then, with a grasp and a stretch and a thrust, Lucy filled herself up with the heat and the strength of Nicky Broome until the softest part of her was no longer yielding but clasping.
She dragged up and slammed down again with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs.
She rolled her hips with him deep inside her, again and again, driving her clit into him so hard that it pinched with a sting that was both agony and bliss.
‘ Lou ,’ Nicky begged.
Lucy elongated her back, stretching till she thought her ribs might pop, and placed her nipple on his mouth. His lips closed around her, licking and sucking.
‘Teeth,’ she grunted.
When he nibbled, she clenched the muscles at her core and commanded, ‘Harder.’
He complied, and she was so grateful for the pain that she moaned, wild and shrill. She felt herself grow even wetter, hotter.
Then, finally – finally – Nicky’s hands slapped down on her ass, fingernails digging into her flesh. His hips thrust back against her hard and fast. The slap of sweat-soaked skin on skin filling what little space was left between them.
And Lucy was alive there, in that moment.
Nothing but the heat and electricity between them.
It was forever and it was fleeting. It was everything real and good and it couldn’t last. Lucy held it back as long as she could.
But eventually, their frisson became fission and their orgasms crackled along every bone like lightning caught on a wire.
They were together in that. One last time.
And it splintered what was left of Lucy’s heart.