Chapter 28
Lana
Iknow Christian well.
I don’t usually have to look at him to know something is wrong. It’s sometimes just a prickly feeling at the back of my neck, a dip in my stomach, or just a certain type of beat in my heart. I can’t explain what it feels like, but it’s kind of like a ghost just nudging me toward him.
And I’ll be damned if I ignore it.
I turn from the window that overlooks the New York City nighttime skyline and see him with tight lips and the space between his brows flinching. Discomfort.
There’s a woman with a blonde bob and a dark blue dress, inching closer each time he inches farther from her. Her finger is dragging itself up and down his sleeve and over his hand, and then he smacks it away to put his hand in his pocket.
Something in my head screams, mine!
Christian looks at me over his shoulder with a hint of amusement, and I make my way over to him. He turns so he’s leaning sideways against the bar like he’s waiting for me to fit myself against his side.
As I get closer, he only smiles and everything else around me fades to nothing. “Hey, baby,” I say, and pull him by his tie.
His mouth is on mine and his hand is on the small of my back, sliding down to squeeze my ass and pulling me into him. I kissed him to make him dizzy, to push him down a rabbit hole of lust for me and make him weak. But he’s turned it around on me, and I can’t be upset about it.
Christian pulls away, breathless and smiling down at me. “Hey, baby.”
We turn to find the blonde with her lip curled and her eyes shooting daggers at me. “And she is?”
“Melanie,” Christian says firmly. “This is my wife. Lana.”
My heart flutters. Oh, I’m going to kiss him so good for that.
Melanie huffs and it turns into a dry laugh. “Your wife?”
I nod, smiling. “I am. And you are…”
“Melanie.”
I shrug with my lips and shoulders. “Sorry. Never heard of you. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been looking for my husband everywhere. We have a matter to attend to…in the restroom.”
Her jaw drops.
I lace my fingers between Christian’s, grab my glass of wine, and pull him away. Toward the restroom. “Lana, where—”
I push open the door to mens room bathroom and put the glass on the nearest counter. “Lana, what—”
The door closes and I push him up against it. Christian releases a little gasp when I kiss him, and the sound is quite rare, but I love when I make it happen.
My fingers sift through his hair, ruining the way I styled it for him earlier, and tug him closer. “Lana,” he mumbles. “Lana, baby.”
“I want you.”
“Fuck, Lana,” he growls. His hands grab my ass, pulling my hips tight against his and letting me feel his erection. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re jealous.”
I giggle. “I wasn’t jealous.”
“No?” His gaze turns cavernous. “Just marking your territory then?”
I lift a shoulder and lock the door. “Something like that.”
His eyes drop to my lips, his tongue wetting his. His hands wrap tightly around my hips and he lifts me like I weigh nothing, plopping me down on the counter. “Jealous.”
“You’re one to talk,” I mumble on his lips, undoing his belt. “Husband.”
He huffs a deep laugh and I’m undoing his pants, trying to get past the Gucci belt that may as well be a Chastity belt. His tongue delves into my mouth and his hands run up my thighs.
“Wife,” he says huskily, smiling against my lips. His fingers crawl up and up and up, and he groans. “No panties then?”
I bite my lip and shake my head.
“Fuck, Lana,” he hisses and his fingers brush over my pussy, and I can feel how wet I am. “I love you.”
I lean back on my hands and my head falls back at the pleasure. “Please.”
His fingers dip inside of me and he drags them back up to my clit.
I moan and his other hand wraps around my throat, pulling me up to him.
His lips crash onto mine and the kiss is so sloppy and messy, I know I’ll walk out of this bathroom looking like a freshly fucked wreck, but fuck that. Who cares?
“I never want you to take off this dress,” Christian rasps against my lips.
“Christian,” I moan, biting his lip and licking his tongue. I pull his shirt out of his pants and push his boxer briefs down. “Inside me.”
Christian’s hands are tight on my waist as he brings me down from the counter. “What—”
He bends me over and his hands press down, making my back to arch and my eyes look up at him through the mirror. “I want you to watch me,” he husks in my ear.
I moan when his free hand lifts my gown up over my hips. His hand comes down across my ass, slapping and making my nerves tingle. I moan louder.
My fingers press hard into the granite beneath my hands and my head falls between my shoulders. “Christian.”
“Shh,” he whispers in my ear, the tip of his cock prodding my entrance. “You’re gonna take me like a good girl, Lana?”
I nod and he slams right into me, a scream escaping my throat. “Fuck! Yes.”
“Eyes open, baby,” he growls, his hand coming around my throat and forcing my head back. “I said watch me.”
With my mouth stuck open, heavy breaths and moans falling freely, I find his eyes in the mirror.
The sight—his disheveled hair, dark eyes, red and swollen lips, and looking right at me.
Fuck and he’s so big, he’s hitting every spot imaginable.
I moan a sound mixed with pleasure and pain, feeling something missing.
Trembling, I move my arm off the counter, looking into his eyes as he pounds into me—his thumbs now pressing into the dimples of my back, hard. My hand slides down between us and I rub across my clit. “Ohh.”
“Good, baby?”
I’m nodding rapidly. “Uhhuh,” I moan. “Oh fuck, Christian.”
My eyes fall closed and I feel his hand covering mine before he pushes it away, taking over. “Come, Lana,” he demands in my ear. “Come, baby.”
I feel myself pulsing and clenching first, then the rest of the sensations consume me. My legs tremble and I can’t breathe, the hand that was between my legs wraps around Christian’s wrists, and he keeps circling and applying pressure.
“Chri—” I gasp. “Christian.”
I succumb to the psychedelic pleasure, and I collapse as it dies out. He stops touching me to wrap his arm around me and hold me up. I feel him still deep inside me and my eyes roll back. Holy fuck.
“Baby,” he whispers soothingly in my ear.
I shake my head. “Don’t stop.” I back myself on his dick slowly. “Don’t stop.”
“You’re shaking and you can’t stand.” He huffs a laugh and I smile—stupidly, for sure.
“Don’t stop.” I whimper when I feel the lack of him but then he lifts me and sits me down on the granite again, spreading my legs. He looks down into my eyes, asking for permission. “Don’t stop, Christian.”
I pull him down by his nape and then he’s inside me. I can’t breathe all over again and it’s fine. It’s okay. I don’t really need oxygen around him anyway. Never been a fan, truly. I’d much rather have this—us.
People say it all the time, that there is always someone that makes them feel like they can finally breathe. That’s him for me—air. The first breath after drowning.
After drowning in all the sadness, grief, and loneliness, he gave me a breath of fresh air and brought me back to life.
“I fucking love you,” he breathes on my lips with punishing strokes. My head is about to fall back but his hand captures my throat again, holding me steady. “I love you so much.”
Christian holds my chin in his hands and puts his lips over mine.
Somehow he’s deeper, pushing in harder and faster, and I’m drowning, moaning into his lips as he grinds against mine.
My legs tremble around him again and my bones become liquid, my nerves burning from the force of my second orgasm.
Overstimulation on the verge of killing me.
It fades and I’m left panting, about to fall back, but his arm catches me.
Christian pulls me into his chest and I let myself fall into him.
It isn’t until I hear his heart pounding that I remember we exist in a world with billions of other people.
I forgot it wasn’t just us. I love when that happens.
Slowly, I pull back and my eyes peel open, finding his. Christian huffs a laugh, smiling, and I’m trying to catch my breath. He pushes my hair behind my ear, fixing the top and smoothing it down my back.
“You okay?” I nod and his smile turns into a grin. “Can you walk?”
“Carry me,” I breathe, smiling weakly.
I throw my arms around his neck and wrap my legs tight around him, letting myself rest. I wish we were home, or at least his penthouse.
I haven’t been this satiated since a few days ago when I woke him up at three a.m. and he thoroughly wore me out before we were both dead and snoring for the rest of the day.
I don’t know what I love more. Our insatiability or the feeling of being entirely satiated we rest happily. Fuck it, they’re both great.
Then it dawns on me that, maybe, he experienced both with someone else in our years apart. What if that woman also woke him up in the middle of the night? Surely, it wasn’t the same reason I do, right?
I wake him up because…it’s him. I want him all the time and I love him with everything I am. I’m insatiable—his time, his love, his voice, his touch, his kiss, his body, his energy. I am irrevocably insatiable when it comes to him.
Was she like that with him—and was he like that with her?
Did she also love him?
Has anyone else here loved him?
The worse question is; has he loved anyone who wasn’t me?
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just a stupid question,” I say, shaking my head. Even through my denial, my vision fogs. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” he rasps. “Lana.”
“Who is she?” I blurt.
He shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”
I don’t want to know, not really. But which is worse? Wondering and not knowing, or knowing and moving on?
“Tell me,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”
“Just…someone who was at the parties and…”
I swallow the lump in my throat and say, hoarsely, “You’ve had sex with her.”
His nod is just a clipped dip of his chin.