Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Waverly
Lukas makes me an offer I never dared to dream about. My tummy tightens and invisible needles prick my cheeks. What am I about to get myself into?
A subtle change washes over him, like he’s a bow pulled back to its furthest point, tight and ready to strike.
“Communication is key,” he starts. He presses his lips to my hairline. “We sort of fucked things up last time because my communication skills sucked and I’m not going to repeat that mistake again.” He pushes himself off the couch and stands before me, offering his hand and lifting me to my toes.
Standing before him is not as safe and comfortable as it was on the couch. He has better access to my whole body. But his hands hover inches away, almost like he’s frozen in resin. “Waverly, can I touch you?”
Of course he can. Why would he even ask? My lips curl in the corners. “You’ve opted to overcompensate, I see.”
“Maybe.” He inhales like he’s readying himself for battle. “Can I remove your clothes?” He inches toward me with slow, deliberate steps, his hands behind his back.
I’m not sure what he’s expecting, so opt for deflection through humor. “Well, I sorta hoped you would.” My attempt to keep it chill backfires as I squirm under his scrutiny. Shoot, Did I shave recently? Yesterday. I’m good. “Sir, Yes Sir,” I say with a straight back and a salute. He’s not laughing like I am. Great. Just great. Not sure where else to go, I shrug. “Ummm, sure.”
He raises an eyebrow, the simple gesture makes my stomach tighten. It also confirms exactly what I need to say.
“Yes,” I’m unable to hide the tremor in my voice, but when he nods, his approval sends a warm glow through my skin, calming my uncertainty and steadying my resolve. The reaction surprises me.
He continues his languid stroll around me, and I feel the warmth of his presence on my back like a physical touch. “I want skin-to-skin contact. Would you like that too?” His breath in my ear gives me shivers.
“Yes.” I breathe out, goosebumps erupting along the path his knuckles softly graze across my arm.
I am frozen in time as he slowly stands in front of me. “Can I use my lips, mouth, and tongue on your bare skin?”
I swallow hard in anticipation of what might come next. His mouth. Dear Heavenly Father, yes please. Heat races to my core and up to my cheeks. “Yes.”
He crosses his arms, shoulders straight, eyes narrow. “Do I have permission for vaginal digital penetration?”
What? His words hit me like jumping into an icy pond. “That sounds awfully clinical. And weird.” I frown at him, partly in confusion, but mostly I’m disappointed he ruined the moment.
His lips press into a straight line and he leans in without breaking eye contact, enunciating every word, devoid of emotion. “Can I finger your pussy?”
“Well, that’s jarring.” The rational part of me knows I should be offended, and recognize his words as off-putting. But there’s a larger, more curious side that finds this whole interaction arousing. Even still, it’s empty talk, no action. And I’m tired of words. “Maybe we don’t need this much communication.”
He frowns, stepping away and creating an icy space between us.
Oh, I don’t like that at all. I swallow. “If I don’t agree to it now, are you not going to do it later?” He blinks at me, like I already know the answer. I don’t recognize the quiet sound squeaking out of my lips. “Um, yes you can.”
One question screams in my head, but I'm too embarrassed to ask it. My eyes drop to the floor.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and I’m pretty sure he can read my mind.
Quick, think of something ridiculous, a bear playing poker in a tutu. Nope, he’s not smiling. Definitely not telepathy. Bummer.
He leans back and I hate the loss of his proximity. “Do you have a concern?”
“Why are you asking me all these questions?” My cheeks burn as I confess, “I’ve never had a conversation like this. Normally stuff just… happens.”
“And have you always enjoyed it? Were your needs met?” He asks with no emotion, no room for judgment. I can see it in his eyes, he already knows the answer.
I recall my adult interactions with partners and shake my head. I don’t need to say the words, and admitting it feels impossible. Is it my fault someone can’t get me off? Am I broken? “Is it my fault? Is it because I don’t like talking about it?”
His face falls and he exhales. “It’s not your fault.” He rubs his chin, staring off into the distance for a second. “What can we do to make it easier to talk about?”
And just like that. I’ve gone and ruined the moment. Way to go, Waverly. “What if we use code words?”
“You’re such a good problem solver.” His compliment warms my soul. “I know a lot of people use colors, green means you’re comfortable, yellow means you’re nervous and we need to slow down, and red is a hard stop.”
I frown a little. “Oh, I was thinking like different types of cows or dinosaurs, but yeah, I guess colors make more sense.” It’s just not as fun.
His index finger lifts my chin. “These are guardrails, there to keep us on track. They’re for your safety and for me to know where your limits are. I will take you to those limits, and every one of your needs will be met.” His words sound like a promise.
He’s so honest and straightforward about this. It’s both disconcerting and comforting. “I’m beginning to get on board with this whole open communication thing.”
I think.
“Are there any places you don’t like to be touched?”
This answer I come up with instantly, because Adam does it all the time and I hate it. “My feet are really ticklish, especially between my toes. I don’t like being touched there.”
He nods and says, “I won’t go anywhere near your feet. And you don’t like to be tickled?”
I squish my nose. “No.”
“Remember, if I get too close to doing something you don’t like, say ‘red’ and I’ll stop immediately. No judgment, and I won’t be disappointed in you”
Why would I be red? I’m sort of used to putting up with things. What could be so bad I would say stop? “What happens if I’m uncomfortable and I don’t say red?”
“If I hurt you, I’d never forgive myself. It would break every layer of trust we’ve built. You won’t trust me to keep you safe and I won’t trust you to know your limits. Both are terrible, and it shatters everything.” His thumb strokes my cheek as he keeps my chin locked into place. He’s my entire line of vision.
My whole world aligns at this moment. The thought of breaking his trust, my trust, hurts in a way I’ve never felt before. It is a fictional pain that could be very real.
He whispers, “I never want to hurt you,” pauses, then adds, “again.” The last word is filled with tenderness, and I know with concrete certainty he’s telling the truth.
I could die right here. He’s offering me everything I’ve ever wished for. I whisper back, “I understand.”
The relief is visible on his face. “Good girl.”
Holy shit. My core clenches and I could melt in his arms. How did two words shatter any sort of self-control I had left?
“Two more things before we get started. One, reds and greens can change. Something might be fine one day, but feel off another. Guard rails move, and that’s okay.”
His hand drops from my chin and I didn’t realize how much I liked his touch until it was gone. A mix of nervousness and anticipation blend together and my body comes alive with a buzzing energy. His words, this entire conversation, have given me a weird sense of warmth and comfort.
“Sounds good. What’s the other thing?”
He cups my cheeks in his hands and kisses me, slow, deep and passionate. When he breaks away from our first kiss in a half decade, Lukas whispers, “That night at the beach house, pinning you against the wall, was a formative moment for me. That’s when I started to act on my darker desires.” He waits for my reaction, and my cheeks burn. What else am I in for? He continues, “Are you interested in exploring some of that with me?”
“Yes.” That single word comes out a little louder and more eager than I hoped.
He softens as the straight line of his lips curls microscopically at the corners.
His knuckles scrape against my arm until his hand tightens, enclosing my wrist. He gives me a squeeze and it triggers an instant shiver.
Lukas leads me into his bedroom. “Draw the shades and take off your clothes. Don’t turn around.”
Behind me, I can hear him opening the closet door.
Ok. Blinds are down. I can do this. I’ve taken my shirt off everyday of my life, easy peasy. My fingers brush against my stomach, but as I grab the end of the shirt, I freeze, those old familiar doubts once again creeping in. Why is he doing this? Am I wrong for wanting this?
You know what? No, no I’m not.
A slow grin spreads over my lips as I resume removing my shirt.
“Waverly, take them off. Now.”
His command startles me. It’s a shift in a power dynamic I’m not expecting. And I like it.
I take my time raising my arms and gliding my shirt over my face. I let the fabric drag across my hair, and as I pull it all the way off, my long locks tickle the skin on my bare back. I try to conceal my hands shaking as I unzip my jeans. It takes two tries to get the top button undone. I hook my thumbs into my jeans at my hips, the air is cool on my ass as the jeans make it past my generous bump.
Lukas makes a low groan. Still facing away from him, I smile knowing he hasn’t completely changed over the years.. He always did enjoy the view from the back.
As my jeans fall to the ground, I try to step out of them, and my foot gets stuck. There goes my sexiness. Stupid skinny jeans get all tight at the ankles. Clearly a design flaw. I step on the jeans with my left foot as I try to release my right, doing my best not to fall.
If he sees me stumble trying to step out of them, he doesn’t say anything. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t said anything in a while.
I focus on the shades, the faded cream that looks almost yellow against the gray walls. He drops something heavy on the bed. Metal clanks, and I jump.
“Easy.” His breath is on the back of my neck. I feel self conscious for a moment and raise my arms to cover my breasts. He reaches around, grabs my wrists and moves my hands to the sides of my body. He releases them and slowly drags his fingers up my arms, producing shivers like I’ve never felt before. His hand makes its way toward my head and he grabs my hair gently, bringing it over my shoulder. Dear God, these miniscule movements are driving me crazy and the heat pooling in my core is making me squirm.
“We’re going very basic, no pain, no punishments.” His breath is warm in my ear. I can’t help but to lean into him..
“Sounds good to me.” Did my voice sound nervous? I can’t tell anymore.
His finger caresses my spine, and my body shivers the whole way until he reaches my lower back. “You’re too much of a people pleaser to be a brat anyway.”
I’m a little offended he would call me a brat, but he’s right about being a people pleaser.
His hand clamps on my left ass cheek and I jump. He lets out a short breath, a huff, his version of a laugh. “I don’t like brats anyway. I like good girls,” he says as he squeezes harder.
Fuck, those words make my body ache. I squeeze my thighs together. It doesn’t give me the relief I hoped for.
He releases my ass and steps in front of me. He seems calm. Why isn’t he affected like I am? Probably because he knows what’s going to happen next.
His voice is stern and commanding. “Put your arms around your back, cross them and hold them by your elbows.”
I do as he says and lock them in place. It forces me to roll my shoulders back.
He gives me an approving nod and lifts something up. “I’m going to put this on you, okay?”
“Yes.” It’s a blind fold. My stomach flips and my clit throbs. He hasn’t even touched me much, and I’m already burning for him. He lifts it over my head, resting it on my forehead. “Why?”
“If you can’t see, it heightens the other senses. And…” His voice drops. “It might be easier for you if you aren’t looking at me.”
Why would that matter? I like ogling at him. The world goes dark before I can respond.
His hot breath is on my neck, his lips brush against the tender skin. Not a kiss, more like he’s gliding his mouth over to my ear. The warmth and sensuality shocks me. He’s started off in such an intimate location. As he moves on the path he’s created, the feather soft sensations make me crave more. I lean in, desperate for a stronger touch. His hand snakes through my hair and holds me away, keeping my neck taut but out of the reach of his touch. His voice is low with a menacing edge to it. “Don’t be greedy, I’ve just begun.”
A shiver courses through my body and I ache for more. His fist tightens around my hair. Logically, I could escape, release my grip on my arms. But he said I can’t, and as badly as I crave him to touch me, I need to hear him call me a good girl even more.
His breath leaves the skin of my ear and I’m cold without it. Before I can protest, his lips are on mine, kissing me hard.
Once the initial shock vanishes, I groan as I kiss him back. He keeps my head exactly where he wants it. His tongue claiming my mouth, I mirror his action. This is a thousand times better than I imagined.
His other hand traces up my waist, his knuckles brushing across my cool stomach. His thumb traces the silk in my bra on the lower part of my breast. I moan again as he kneads my nipple. I desire his touch and the fabric blocks his full access. It’s the barrier I hate more than anything. I need more.
Moaning to communicate my desire, he breaks away from our kiss. The whimper of disappointment leaves my lips and a part of me wishes he would take it back.
“Do you want more?” His voice is dark and husky. I struggle to find the man I’ve known. Is this even the same person?
“Yes, please.” I don’t recognize the pleading in my voice. He releases his grip on my head and takes his thumb off my nipple. Rude.
He doesn’t touch me, but I can smell him. His aura feels like a blanket around me, yet he’s intangible. Then, across my chest, a finger traces from my bra strap to my cleavage and back to the other strap.
“Your skin is already flushed.” His voice is gravelly, intense. “Your body responds fucking perfectly.”
Unsure what to say, I go with something I hope pleases him enough to touch me again. “Thank you.”
He pushes the fabric of my bra down. The rush of cold air is quickly diminished when he clamps his mouth around my breast, his tongue rolling it like his thumb did only a few minutes earlier. He plays with my other breast with one hand, while his other hand rests on my hip. My breathing hitches with every squeeze, getting rougher and more intense with every passing second.
When his teeth and lips target the nipple he’s been working on, the pain shoots through my body and focuses on my clit. I cry out and moan in pain and pleasure. I thought there wasn’t going to be any pain. But fuck, I’m glad there is.
He moves his attention to the other breast, working it to the point of abuse. When he bites this time, I’m prepared for the flood of pain, but not the rush of arousal. My pussy is screaming for any sort of treatment, and squeezing my thighs together isn’t providing the release I need.
He presses his knee between my legs, and a few quick grinds releases some of the building pressure. He pulls his leg away and I’m left more frustrated. “Please,” I whimper.
“Please, what?”
“Please, touch me.”
His hands caress my sides, his splayed fingers covering as much surface area he can. “I am.”
His fingers stop at my hips, digging into the space between where my panties meet my skin. I grind into nothing.
“Please.” I’ve never begged before. Will he live up to his promise?
His fingers continue to trace where my skin meets fabric. “Please, what?” God he has to know what I want.
“Please, touch my clit.”
Both of his hands trace down toward the center of my panties. “Waverly, you’re soaked. Is that for me?”
Why is he asking such a stupid question? Touch me already. I’d say anything at this point. “Yes!”
His warm breath lingers on my neck again and he moans as soon as he touches the wet cotton. It’s a sensation overload and the pleasure is more than I expect. My panting breaths start to make me dizzy. My legs shake uncontrollably, Lukas wraps his arm around my waist and keeps me upright. His masterful finger brings me closer to the edge. Any grip I have on reality is about to completely fade out.
He slides my panties to the side and slips one finger inside me. He growls, “Are you going to come on my fingers?” I’m about to cry out yes, but he adds, “Without my permission?”
Oh shit. Did I miss a rule? What can I say? “Please.” I don’t think I’ve ever been this polite in my life.
The pressure in my core starts to build and he pulls his finger out. “No, please don’t.” I’ve never been so close to a big orgasm before. I’ve experienced little relaxing ones, but this time it’s on the verge of something different. “Please. Please.” He’s got me begging.
He keeps his hand cupping the outside of my center,?close but not enough. I want to wrap my arms around him to force his hand to move. The pressure keeps building. His voice is low and husky. “You’re beautiful like this, begging for a little release.”
The mask presses against my skin, he’s touching it. “A lovely, black contrast to your pale skin as it turns different shades of pink.”
His palm rubs against my clit and I cry out.
“Please, Lukas, please.”
“Fuck,” he growls. ”My name on your lips…” He presses his forehead against mine. “Say my name when you come.”
His finger slides into my slick pussy. I lose all control when he inserts the second one, working me into a frenzy. The pressure builds to its final release and I might kill him if he stops.
“Lukas,” I cry as the tidal wave of pleasure hits me. His mouth claims my cries. His other arm keeps me stable and upright as I ride each rise and fall of my orgasm.
His lips break away and press against my forehead. “Such a good girl.”
I almost collapse on his chest and melt right there.
My hands loosen their grips on my arms. It’s stiff and hard to move, but I do, reaching for his chest.
He grips my wrists. “No.” His voice is dark and harsh.
My intrusive thoughts take over. He doesn’t want me to touch him. He’s not attracted to me. But I thought.. He did… Maybe?
I was wrong. Rejection sucker punches me in the face even though I try to fight it back. My knees give out and my ass hits the side of the bed.
God, is that why he suggested I wear the blindfold? Was he disgusted while I thought we both enjoyed this? Is he only doing this to atone for his brother’s sins? To take pity on poor, pathetic Waverly.
Just in case he needs an out, I whisper, “I’m sorry.” I owe him an apology. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”
When he squeezes my wrist harder, I pull away, physically and emotionally.
“Talk to me, love. What’s going on in your head?”
The words are trapped like I am. I can’t even take off the blindfold to find my clothes and run away.
I have a small victory as Lukas releases my wrist and I instantly try to cover my face. I need a moment to recover from what just happened and a moment to understand what he might be feeling. I want to think he’s attracted to me. No one can give such a mind blowing orgasm and not feel anything. But my insecurities intrude and my doubt seeps in.
He lets out a low grumble and pulls both my hands away, pinning them to my lap. His voice softens. “Don’t hide from me.”
My chin starts quivering, my chest tightens, and swallowing burns. The tears start betraying me as they escape from their ducts. I feel warmth on my jaw as he tilts it up, and the soft pads of his thumbs erase the trails my tears leave.
“Please, tell me what’s happened. You were doing so well. What changed?” He sounds confused, even hurt a little. He was nice to me and now I’m making it worse.
“I’m sorry.” I try to pull away, to curl into myself, but one of his hands pins my hands on my lap and the other holds my chin. I can’t. He’s keeping my body too open.
We speak at the same time.
“What’s going on?”
“You don’t want me to touch you,” I say, and he pulls away completely.
Finally, I can bring my knees to my chest. My breathing becomes ragged as the words fall out. “Are you not attracted to me? Are you only doing this because you feel bad for me?” I shake my head. It’s the most obvious answer. “He cheated on me because I wasn’t enough and now…”
He moves to the floor, and he must be kneeling because his breath is on my neck. His fingers start at my scalp, smoothing my hair before resting on my cheek. “You’re wrong.”
I know the facts. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” His breath is against my skin as he whispers, “Close your eyes, I’m going to take off the mask.”
The pressure around my head releases and the brightness seeps through my eyelids. Slowly I open my eyes, his face is blurry until I blink. I’ve never seen him like this—concerned and sweet, but his eyebrow twitches like it does when he’s angry with me.
“Don’t believe any of those lies in your head.” He holds my cheeks in his hands. “I didn’t let you touch me for three reasons. One, I didn’t tell you to move your hands. Two, you weren’t following directions. And three, this was supposed to be for you, to let you explore, feel, experience. My pleasure has nothing to do with it.”
I still don’t understand. “I don’t like it.” He opens his mouth, expecting to explain more, but I cut him off before he can speak. “You gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had. It’s selfish not to show how much I appreciate it.” I reach for the only way my brain will let me explain it. It’s kinda dirty if it’s one sided. I need things to be even. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want me to reciprocate, unless you’re not attracted to me or you think I’m going to be bad at it. It makes me feel inadequate.”
One for one, that’s the way it’s always been. Back when we were younger, sometimes he’d go down on me twice, or get me off twice, and I always finished him off too. This feels one sided. Hollow.
He closes his eyes before resting his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. You’re beautiful, the measure I gauge all other women by, and they never come close to you. I never meant to make you feel used, or like I’m taking advantage of your vulnerability.” His lips press against my forehead. “Can you stop crying for me?” His voice is sweet, every word laced with compassion.
“Uh-huh,” I whimper.
Before I process what he confessed, his face fills my field of vision. His gaze is dark and focused. The shift in mood almost gives me whiplash.
“Now, get on your knees, and wrap those soft, sweet lips around my cock.”
Oh. Wow. All the moisture leaves my eyes and instantly pools in my panties.