Chapter 10 Luka #2
Control has been my religion, and in this moment, it deserts me. She grips my shirt and pulls hard, dragging me into her, our mouths tangling in a kiss that steals my breath. I grab her wrists and pause, holding her gaze. Our breathing evens without calming.
“Tell me,” I whisper. “Tell me you want this.”
“I want it,” she replies, certain and honest.
I pull her shirt over her head, and her hair tumbles free, spilling around her shoulders in golden waves.
I press my mouth to her neck, and a low gasp escapes her.
My fingers find the button of her jeans, flicking it open before sliding down the zipper.
I strip the denim from her legs, then drag my hands back up, tracing the strength in her thighs, the tension that tells me she’s holding her breath, waiting for the fall she craves.
I press my lips to the inside of her knee, and she shivers. When I look up, her eyes find mine, vulnerable and burning. The pulse at her throat flutters, quick and unsteady, like a signal.
“Luka,” she whispers, and my name turns into permission.
I move over her, the mattress giving a low groan beneath our weight. Vega sits by the wardrobe, head turned in quiet dignity, though his ears stay trained on the door. I strip off my shirt, and her fingers trace my chest, the ink along my ribs, and the scar cut across my abdomen.
“Who did this?” she asks curiously.
“A man who is dead.”
Satisfaction eases through her expression, quick and fierce, as if she likes that end to the story. Then her hand slides lower. The next sound in the room belongs to me.
I take her mouth again, slow enough to memorize every curve of her lips, every shift of teeth and tongue.
I learn the points where breath turns to sound, sound to plea, and plea to something that feels like surrender.
Her breath catches when my palm covers her breast, my thumb finding a rhythm that pulls her spine into a long, trembling arc.
Her fingers twist in my hair, my name leaving her lips twice, soft and wrecked. I hook my fingers beneath the band of her panties and tear them away in one rough motion. Licking my way down her body, I stop when I reach her pussy and blow a breath out over her clit.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, fisting the sheets in both hands.
I blow another warm breath over her clit before running my tongue between the silky folds of her pussy.
“You are so wet, kiska,” I moan, my cock throbbing painfully in my pants.
I push past the ache and focus on her, on the taste that steals thought and reason.
My fingers tighten at her hips, holding her still, anchoring us both in the moment.
I push my tongue into her with steady strokes, alternating between swirling and thrusting.
When tiny pearls of perspiration dot her skin, I pull my tongue out and roll it over her clit.
“Fuck…Luka!” My name tears from her lips. She tries to swallow it back underneath another moan, but it’s too late for that.
“You’re mine,” I growl against her clit.
I push a finger inside, fucking her while I assault her clit with my tongue and lips. She gasps, tangling her fingers in my hair, pushing my mouth harder against her pussy. I add a second, then a third finger, stretching her open until she whimpers.
Her scent and taste are driving me insane, and my cock is ready to tear through my pants.
I drive my fingers hard and deep, pumping into her relentlessly, my tongue continuing to trace tight circles over her clit.
Her body jerks, a raw moan escaping her as her pussy clamps down around my fingers.
I’m determined to push her right to the edge.
“Yes…yes, Luka…just like that,” she moans, chasing her release.
I suck her clit harder, while I slide my fingers deeper, matching the rhythm of my mouth. She lets out a strangled moan and rocks her hips, spreading her legs wider in complete abandon.
“Yes, printsessa, come for me,” I order.
Sage cries out, her body arching beneath my hands, every breath shattering into sound. I stay with her through the storm, guiding her as the tremors fade into aftershocks that leave her trembling against the sheets. Her chest rises and falls, breathless, wild, and undone.
When I lean down, I lick the sweet juice from her pussy, proof of what I’ve taken and what she’s given. But I want more. I want all of her.
I stand and strip off the rest of my clothes, impatience tightening every movement. The need that’s been building finally breaks past restraint.
Sage’s eyes widen when they land on my cock, surprise flashing before it melts into something far bolder. Her lips part on a quiet gasp, and then a grin curves there, wicked and knowing.
She’s fucking perfect. The thought hits hard as I move over her, drawn to the heat of her skin.
I press my mouth to her nipple, sucking it into my mouth.
Balancing my weight on one arm, I slide my other hand over her other breast. I roll her nipple between my fingers, giving it a sharp pinch that makes her arch into me.
Her moans vibrate against my mouth, low and breathy, making my cock throb with painful urgency.
Releasing her breasts, I grip her hips and flip her onto her stomach in one fluid motion.
Pulling her onto her knees, I curl my body over her.
Gathering her silky hair in my left hand, I press the tip of my cock against her slick entrance with my right.
She inhales sharply as I slide my cock into her swollen pussy in one swift thrust.
“That’s it kiska,” I breathe, “take all of it.”
I pull out quickly and thrust into her again, without giving her time to adjust. Her head falls forward, a guttural moan spilling from her lips. Her walls grip my cock, slick and hot, and I have to fight to keep control.
Tugging on her hair, I pull her head back until my lips are near her ear. “This pussy is mine,” I rumble, my voice low and dangerous.
My hand finds her throat, squeezing slightly to hold her just where I want her, a point of control and connection. I drive into her like a man possessed, every thrust rougher and deeper. Her body pulses around me, her muscles clenching as she spirals closer to the edge.
“Please…p-please,” she whimpers, her words caught between breath and need, the sheets twisted tightly in her fists. “Luka!” she cries out as her release slams into her.
A curse rips from my throat in Russian as I lose control, every muscle drawn tight. The rush hits hard and fierce, breaking through the last thread of restraint until there’s nothing left but her name on my lips and the sound of our ragged breaths colliding.
I pull away from her and roll to my side, reaching for her. She lets me.
For a while, neither of us speaks. Her eyes stay locked on mine, unguarded in the hush between us.
Outside, the mountains wait, silent and endless.
I trace the line of her spine with one finger, learning the small places she shivers, and the parts of her that breathe despite her armor. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she says finally, the edge of steel returning to her voice. “I’m leaving when I can.”
“You won’t walk out of this house without me,” I reply. “Men are already on the road. They don’t care about innocence, only names. Yours is a key.”
She exhales sharply, frustration flaring in her eyes. “What happened just now doesn’t give you the right to decide my life.”
“It gives me the obligation to keep you breathing,” I answer, because softness is a luxury I can’t afford while enemies move closer.
Her eyes shift to Vega. He watches back, silent and loyal, a creature built for patience and violence. “Fine,” she concedes. “But I have to call Hope. You have to let me talk to her and figure out what to tell her.”
“I know you need to hear her voice. You will. But the Italians are watching everything that leaves this ridge. I’ll route a safe call through my system after sunset.
Until then, Hope is covered. Her prescriptions are paid, and there’s a man on her street who answers to me.
You can be angry, but you can’t be reckless. ”
She studies me for a long moment, searching for something she’ll never find. Then she turns away, the space between us cooling by degrees. Vega settles beside the bed, his head on his paws, watching the door as if he understands what waits beyond it.