Chapter 15 #4
“I’m ready, Lucky,” I say, my voice steady, determined.
Fuck, it almost hurts how much conviction is raging through me.
“It’s different now. It’s different when you’re someone I love with every damn bone in me.
I trust you, Lucky. I know you love me. And now I want this. I want you. All of you. Right now.”
His eyes blaze like I just handed him the whole universe. “Willow…”
“I mean it.” My eyes lock on his. Everything in me feels steady. Calm. Sure in a way I’ve never felt in my life. “I’m ready to be with you. I want to be with you. I started birth control weeks ago. I wanted to be ready. And I need you to believe me. I. Am. Ready.”
I lean in closer, our lips only a breath apart. “And I want you to talk me through it.”
He studies me for five seconds longer. I see the conflict there. He meant every word when he said he was letting me set the pace. He was in it for the long haul. And here I am, telling him I’m ready.
And I see it in his eyes the second he believes me.
Something breaks loose in him then—something wild and reverent all at once. His hands cradle my face like I’m breakable, but his kiss is molten, fierce, desperate.
“Then look at me,” he rasps, pulling back just enough that I can see his green eyes burning like he’s supernatural. His hands come to my hips, and slowly, he turns me away from him to face the mirrors. “Look at us. Look how perfect you are.”
His hand brushes across my stomach, my shirt rising a little at the movement. My eyes watch intensely as he moves. As his other hand skims down my arm, washing goosebumps over my skin.
And it feels like a miracle. That for the first time, when a man is touching me, I’m not tensing. I don’t feel shame and humiliation and fear choking me.
It’s just him.
It’s just Lucky.
And every moment of devotion and love he’s shown me.
His hand skims the hem of my shirt. He pauses, and in the mirror, I see his eyes searching mine.
“Yes?” he asks, open, heady, lovingly.
“Yes,” I breathe out.
His fingers grip the fabric, and slowly, he lifts, slow enough that I feel every brush of his knuckles against my ribs.
My reflection does the same in a dozen mirrors, a dozen Willows unpeeling shame and replacing it with fire.
Lucky’s gaze fixes on me as he leaves me in just a black, lace bra.
His eyes drop, and he groans low in his throat.
“Fuck, you’re stunning,” he says, like it’s a curse and a prayer. “Look at yourself, Willow. Look how incredible you are.”
I do. I look at myself in the mirror. My bare skin, flushed, lit by the moody lights, his hands steady on my waist. I see the rosy outline of my nipples through the lace. They’re hard, ready. I’m breathing hard, but it’s a good kind of panting.
I’ve never looked at myself this way before. Not broken. Not tainted.
Wanted.
He kisses down the side of my throat and whispers against my skin. “Tell me what you need.”
“To touch you,” I breathe out honestly. It’s terrifying to vocalize what I want. Because I haven’t wanted anything in so long. But I do want. No, I fucking need.
He turns me around, looking down at me with intensity as he grabs my chin, holding my gaze. “Shirt first. Take your time.”
I expect them to, but my hands don’t shake even the slightest when I grip the hem of Lucky’s shirt.
My mouth waters with every inch I raise the fabric.
There’s that four-leaf clover on his lower abdomen.
Damn. There’s the abs themselves. The impeccable pecs.
He lifts his arms for me and tugs at the back of his collar to assist when he gets too tall, and I can’t pull it the rest of the way off.
And it’s finally my time.
“I’ve fantasized about this for months,” I say, taking a moment to just appreciate him shirtless. In the flesh.
“I’m yours, Dagger Kitten,” Lucky says, his words low and sure. “Show me what you fantasized about.”
Oh fuck. That permission. The invitation.
My hands flatten against his skin. He’s warm. Soft. And rock hard. Lucky’s body is something I’m damn proud of, and I contributed nothing to its making. I let my hands rise, appreciating every rise and fall. One hand slides down, and I brush my thumb over his tattoo.
I crouch, and before I can let myself feel self-conscious or embarrassed, I lap my tongue over it. I hear Lucky groan, and when I look up, his head tilts back up to the ceiling as his eyes slide closed.
I grin wickedly.
It’s exactly what I’ve fantasized about. I lap my tongue against that four-leaf clover once more, before tracing my tongue up the center of his stomach. Lucky curses and casts blessings as I go. When I straighten to my full height once more, I bite his right peck.
“Holy shit, Willow,” Lucky breathes, his words and breath ragged. As he looks down at me, his pupils are blown wide.
I think he liked that.
His fingers lace into my hair, and he tilts my head back as he kisses me hard and deep.
While his mouth works, so do his hands. He unbuttons my pants, and slowly, so damn slowly, he wraps his hands around to round over my ass as he slides my jeans down and off.
They fall to the floor on their own, but Lucky’s hands remain on my ass.
“So fucking perfect,” he breathes into my mouth. “Do you feel how perfect you feel in my hands?”
Words don’t seem to be working right now, so I simply nod.
“You want to keep going?” Lucky asks, his words rough and shaking as he traces his nose along my neck.
I nod again.
Lucky shoves his own pants down, kicking them off to the side.
And slowly, he drops to his knees. His hands trace down my sides as he does, lighting a trail of fire along my skin.
He hooks his finger into the front of my bra, and I watch every second of it as he pulls it down, exposing my left breast.
“So fucking perfect,” Lucky repeats, every syllable of it reverent.
He’s so damn tall that even on his knees, he is at exactly the perfect height to lean forward and suck my nipple into his mouth.
A moan escapes my lips, and this time it’s my head that tips back in ecstasy.
My fingers lace into his hair as he sucks on me.
His tongue laps back and forth across it, and slowly, he bites his way down the underside of my breast.
“Yes?” he asks, and I can just hear the grin on his face. His fingers hover at the clasp of my bra.
“Yes,” I pant.
My bra falls to the floor instantly. Lucky hooks his fingers into my thong and pulls it down over my hips, and it falls to the floor.
And I stand here in front of him, completely naked, and he’s on his knees before me.
I look over Lucky’s head to our reflection in the mirror. Me, completely bare. Him, completely at my command, even if he’s the one talking me through it.
I don’t see shame there. I don’t see coercion. I don’t see manipulation.
I see love. I see heat. I see lust. I see my future. And I see the man I want.
“Look at how powerful you are,” Lucky says. His hands caress my hips, and he looks up at me with devotion. “Look at how perfect we are, Willow Vale.”
“Tell me what to do next,” I breathe as I look back down at him.
“Sit here,” he says immediately, like he’s been cooking this up in his mind since we stepped into this incredible room.
He takes my hand, helping me as I do what he asks.
He maneuvers me until my back is against his chest. Behind me, his thick cock strains against his black boxer briefs, and my heart rate skyrockets. But not from fear. From anticipation.
“Look in the mirror,” he says right next to my ear. And so, I do. Which means I get to watch every second of it as Lucky places a hand on both of my knees, and he slowly pulls them open. “Relax for me, Willow. And watch.”
Holy fuck. Holy fuck.
That’s me. Spread wide in front of a mirror. I must be two seconds away from a panic attack, because I feel my heartbeat everywhere. I see my pink pussy widen as he opens my legs all the way. I glisten with my arousal. My eyes flick to Lucky’s face, and there, I see lust. Admiration. Focus.
Lucky’s right hand slides from my knee, up my thigh. His touch is soft but hot. He circles around my belly button with his fingers. And then he starts a slow, torturous descent straight down.
His fingers slide over my clit, and my breath hitches. My entire stomach twitches, my legs doing this little shake. Lucky adjusts his touch, rubbing his index and middle fingers on either side of my clit instead.
A curse escapes my lips.
“Perfect, Willow,” Lucky says as he strokes me again. “Look at how fucking sexy you are. Look how wet you are.”
“For you,” I moan as one of my hands rises and laces into his hair. My back arches as he strokes me again.
He makes a noise of approval and rubs long and soft. His eyes are fixed on me. He brushes his fingers over me before continuing down. He slips them through my slick entrance, coating them. And I cry out in absolute pleasure as he slides his middle finger inside me.
Holy shit. I have been missing out. Even just this tiny, basic little bit is better than it ever was with that dead asshole. The things Lucky is making me feel… I didn’t even know this was possible.
“I love that you’re wet,” Lucky breathes against my ear. “You grip me so perfect. Do you feel me inside you?”
“Yes,” I say simply, gripping his hair tighter as he pumps his finger deeper, joining it with his index. My back arches again, and his free hand comes to cup my breast.
Even better.
“You were made for me, Willow,” he whispers as he pumps me again, and now, his thumb brushes over my clit. “Look how we fit together.”
“Inside,” I pant. “I want you. Inside. Me.”
Lucky shifts, and I hear the soft rustle of fabric as he tosses his boxer briefs aside. He positions himself in front of me, and I get exactly one second to see that gorgeous, perfect cock of his. And then he’s kneeling between my legs, and I feel the heat of his head as he lines up at my entrance.