Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Lukas
I’m so stupid. I didn’t explain everything to her, and she felt rejected. Of course she would, in her mental state. Throw in Waverly needing to take care of everyone and I should’ve seen it coming. What I don’t understand is how she could ever believe for a moment I wasn’t attracted to her. She’s haunted my dreams since I was a teenager.
I’m not doing this because I need her to suck my cock the way I’ve been dreaming about for the last week. I mean, I really do want it. But this isn’t about me. She needs to feel desired, and I won’t let her leave thinking she isn’t the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.
She wipes the tears from her cheeks. “What?”
I raise my eyebrow. “Are you going to make me repeat myself?”
She nods. “Yes. I’m checking if I heard you correctly.”
Her eyes flutter shut as I brush my thumb across her plump lower lip. In a low growl, I say, “I want your luscious lips around my cock. I’ve been hard since you walked into my bedroom.”
“That second part is new, right?”
“I’m giving you more context.”
She blinks at me for a moment. I guess if I didn’t have my hand on her chin, she could see my hard-on. I can’t read her mind, and her mental state is so fragile, I shouldn't push it if she’s not ready.
She’s careful to unzip my fly, which I appreciate. Once she frees my cock, her grin grows wider and there’s a wicked glint in her eyes. She takes a long lick from the base to the tip and, holy shit, I could die now and be happy. She hums in satisfaction as she wraps her mouth around me like I told her to. Her tongue and lips are fucking magic. “Jesus Christ,” I groan.
Waverly’s big eyes glance up at me, gleeful, adoring. Her hand follows the path her mouth paves. She’s worshiping me, on her knees, humming her prayer, rendering me temporarily brain dead.
When her hair falls in front of her face, I tuck it behind her ear but keep my hand on her head. She gives me another hum and moan and I groan out, “You feel amazing.” She shimmies her shoulders. She really likes praise.
“Take me down your throat.” My hand guides her head, pushing her mouth deeper around my cock. Her body rejects it and her eyes water. “Breathe, love, breathe,” I instruct, and she does, relaxing and pushing past her reflex.
My shirt keeps blocking my view of her bobbing mouth. With one hand still on her head, I whip my shirt off over my head with the other. Her eyes widen, what is she looking at? Oh. My tattoos. Her left hand slides up my stomach, following the nest of snakes I got three years ago. She moans and the vibrations shoot through my cock into my core.
I want her to feel sexual and beautiful, but all she wants is me. The blatant desire is on display in her eyes. I groan at the realization. Her hands and mouth speed up. Praise, she needs praise.
“Waverly, your mouth is a fucking sin.” My voice is hoarse and deep. Her fingers dig into my skin as she claws at my stomach. The comment urges her on harder, each thrust deeper.
She’s a million times better than my dreams, and I curse my lack of imagination. Tears stream down her cheeks, the gagging getting to her. I should tell her that’s enough. But she’s gagging for me, and I want her to.
I’m about to tell her to play with my balls, but her hand is already there, massaging them—gentle and soft against the most tender part of me—while her other hand and mouth work at a feverish pace.
“Damn it, you’re amazing.” It’s hard to get the words out. I let out a guttural moan, deep from my soul. I don’t recognize it as my own.
Sweat starts to bubble up at her scalp, and not once does she break eye contact. And all I can think is, ‘Y ou’re mine, Waverly Mcleod. You’re on your knees with my cock hitting the back of your throat and you’re loving every second of it.’
My hand tightens against her skull. Her moan changes, sharpens, shocked by a twinge of pain and discomfort. “I’m so fucking close.” My other hand slides down around her neck. “You’re going to swallow every bit of my hot cum like a good girl.” It’s not a request and she knows it. Her moan vibrates through my core and sends me over the ledge. My hand on her throat feels every swallow. She keeps moving but slows, keeping me on edge and making it last as long as she can.
She’s perfect.
And more than ever, I hate my cunt of a brother for making her think she is less than she is.
I tilt my head back, resting it against the wall, waiting for my breathing to return to normal.
“Pull up my pants,” I say once her mouth leaves my cock. She’s slow and careful as she lifts my jeans from around my ankles over my thighs. She’s even more gentle tucking everything away and re-zipping my fly. She’s about to buckle my belt, when I lift her by her elbows. “You’ve done enough.”
Her hair is a mess from where I was holding her, her lips swollen from her hard work. Her skin is dusted with a pink hue and a sheen of sweat.
Her eyes drift to my chest, and she lifts her hand but hesitates, gazing at me with pleading eyes.
I give her a nod. “Go ahead, you can touch.”
Her fingers brush against my skin as she leans in to see better. My chest and stomach are black and white, stylized and shaded with snakes in a coil. “You’re a work of art.”
My heart flutters, “So are you.” I press her half naked body against my skin, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Do you feel better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Her voice is quiet and small.
With a few flicks of my fingers, her bra is unhooked. Waverly makes a little squeak. “Look at me.” She does, her face still pink and flush, all concern washed away. I need to keep her in this mindset. “It’s not going to be even anymore. But you are desired, and I will prove it to you every time I make you come and scream.”
She gasps. “Um, I don’t know…”
“Shhh.” She’s about to give me some bullshit about how she can’t have more than one. Probably because no one has done it to her. I’ve learned a lot in the past few years, and I’m about to put it all to use. On the only woman I’ve ever really wanted. “Hand me your panties and get your hot ass on my bed.”