33. Crème Brûlée #2
As if he knew I needed the hard surface to remain grounded, Lucas moved his hands over mine on the counter and pressed them down. “Keep these here. And look in the mirror.” His stubble rasped over the edge of my ear. “Don’t look away.”
“Oh-okay.”
I watched as his hands moved slowly up my sides, then around to pluck at the line of buttons until my blouse hung open, revealing my breasts, which had practically heaved themselves over the confines of my simple nude bra. His fingertips feathered over their swells.
I shivered again as my nipples tightened. He hadn’t even touched skin.
“So beautiful,” he murmured as he cupped me, relieving some of the weight from the bra’s thin straps, then kneading lightly and allowing my soft flesh to overflow those broad hands.
I arched into the contact when his thumbs stroked my tightened nipples. “Lucas?—”
“Shh.” His mouth brushed my temple. “I said watch.”
I couldn’t stop even if I tried. His left hand glided down the front of my body—slow and steady—trailing over my stomach until he reached the waistband of my skirt.
He paused, then undid the button and zipper before letting it flutter past my thighs to the ground.
I only just toed off my shoes and socks, then kicked them all away, leaving me standing in nothing but my underwear, still caged by Lucas’s tall form.
I lost my breath when his hand slid past the cotton of my panties to find the warmth waiting for him.
He let out a low groan. “God, Marie. You’re already dripping for me.”
I mewed—actually mewed like a lost kitten. Words had already deserted me, hypnotized as I was by the movement of his hand underneath the fabric. Why was it, in a way, hotter watching his hand under my clothes than if I had taken them off and let him have his way with me?
His fingers parted me, found my clit, and I cried out softly as my knees threatened to give.
“Don’t fight it.” His lips grazed my jaw while his other arm provided a strong anchor around my waist. “Let it take you, baby. I have you.”
His fingers stroked me slow and firm, then moved farther down to dip inside me, one, two, then a third, stretching, testing, searching for the deepest part of me.
I arched back, my voice all but gone. “Lucas, please .”
The hand at my waist slid back up to my breasts, and with a practiced flick, he unhooked my bra and let it fall.
His palm closed over one soft pillow, then the other, kneading lightly before thumb and forefinger pinched my nipples until I hissed.
He didn’t stop—just tugged again, firmer this time, sending a sharp bolt of pleasure-pain through me that made my knees buckle.
“Good?” he murmured, voice low and dark.
My only answer was a helpless moan, because yes—it hurt, but it also felt devastatingly good. His other hand left my depths and traveled up to his mouth. I watched him slip those fingers between his lips and suck.
“Sweet Marie,” he murmured. “So fucking sweet.”
I whimpered, and my whole body flushed.
He slid his hand back down my body and pushed my panties to the side, finding me again like he owned me—like I’d always belonged to him. The slick sounds of his fingers working between my thighs were obscene in the quiet room, echoing off the marble-covered walls and blending with my moans.
“Eyes on the mirror,” he reminded. “Don’t look away.”
I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
The hand on my breast moved up to lock around my throat as his other fingers worked me ruthlessly, his mouth hot and praising at my neck.
“You’re going to come for me, right here,” he ordered. “You’re going to watch yourself fall apart in my arms while my fingers fuck that sweet virgin pussy.”
“Not—” I gasped when his thumb found my clit. “Not a virgin anymore.”
He chuckled, then sucked a spot hard behind my ear. “It was my virgin pussy, Marie. It will always be mine.”
I was panting now, grinding into his hand, my hips chasing every stroke of his thumb, every thrust of his fingers. My hands flew to his hair, yanking hard enough to make him shout as the pressure inside me broke. I came with a cry, my legs trembling, his name caught between my teeth.
He held me through it, his arm like iron, his lips brushing my ear.
“Beautiful,” he said. “Look at the way you fall apart for me. Delectable.”
When the last of my shudders had passed, and I collapsed back against him, his hand finally stilled between my thighs. Lucas withdrew it, turned me just enough that he could bend down and sweep me against his chest, then carried me out of the bathroom and back to the bed.
“Don’t look at it,” he ordered as he set me among the pillows. “Just look at me.”
I didn’t know what he meant—the view, the room, the riches that surrounded us.
Nevertheless, I obeyed, keeping my focus on him as he slid down my body, pressing kisses over my breasts, stomach, and legs until he removed my underwear, then lifted my thighs over his shoulders and buried his face between them.
“Oh!” I arched against him again when his nose found my clit, still throbbing and sensitive. “No, Lucas, I can’t?—”
“You can,” he assured me. “And you will. Just watch, baby. Watch me eat you like a goddamn buffet.”
“Lucas—” I whispered, but the rest of the sentence was lost when his tongue swiped through my center in one slow, devastating stroke.
My hips jerked. “Oh, God?—”
“No,” he murmured against me. “Just me now. No one else.”
He feasted on me the same way he kissed.
The same way Lucas Lyons did everything: intentionally and thoroughly.
But there was an element of pleasure in it that I had rarely seen any of the other times with him.
Only, I realized, when he ate the food I prepared.
Especially the desserts he took to his rooms at night.
Sweet Marie , he loved to call me.
Like I was made of the same kind of decadence.
My hands found his hair, fingers tangling in the soft dark strands. I tried to push him away when it became too much, but he growled low and pressed me down with a firm arm across my lower belly.
“No running now.”
Then he sucked my clit into his mouth, and I broke.
A second orgasm ripped through me, raw and sudden. My thighs clamped around his head, my body lifting off the bed, and he didn’t stop. Not until I was whimpering, shaking, and begging for breath.
“Lucas,” I called. “Please.”
“Fuck.” His voice rumbled into my thigh. “You know what it does to me when you beg.”
“ Please .” My voice was shredded.
When he released that belted hold over my hips, I honestly thought I might float away from the pleasure, shattered into millions of tiny pieces that would blow away with the slightest breeze.
Lucas stood just long enough to pull a condom from his jeans pocket, then remove them and his underwear with quick, efficient movements until he was completely naked, unabashed, and more domineering than ever, right down to the heavy column of flesh he held in one hand as he surveyed the quivering mess he’d left of me on the bed.
“How do you want it?”
I stared at his erection, rapt as he rolled on a condom. I couldn’t help it. I wouldn’t have normally thought of a penis as something beautiful, but Lucas’s cock, heavy and eager, looked as though it had been carved from stone, like the many statues that graced the city.
My mouth watered, though I didn’t completely understand why.
Just as quickly, a number of images flew through my mind: how it might feel to be on my knees, my hair in his hands, held fast while he eased past my lips, or me turned over on my stomach while that magnificent part of him took me from behind.
Would he like it between my breasts, nestled in the soft volume that had always felt slightly obscene? He had suggested it once, but was that something people really did, or was it just in dirty talk?
Once again, it felt like too much. Too many options. Too many questions.
Lucas’s body found mine before the feeling could overtake me again. His arms caged either side of my head as his solid weight pressed me into the bed, grounding me there beneath him.
“Stay with me,” he said before kissing me, taking his time with it.
When he was finished, I was fully back in the moment. Back to where I could arch into the tip of him, nudging at my entrance. Fully present as he pushed past that tender, slick opening, causing Lucas’s entire body to shudder as he breached me for the third time.
He stilled for a moment, only a few inches in, his forehead to mine as he took one deep breath, then another.
“Lucas…” I sucked in a breath as the stretch of him filled me completely. My head rocked back into the pillows, and my body squirmed, unsure whether I wanted to escape or get even closer.
“I know,” he said, voice rough as he pushed deeper. “You’re so fucking tight, sweet girl. Just like the first time, isn’t it? But you can take me; we know you can. Oh, fuck , squeeze me. Just like that.”
My eyes clenched shut as he waited a few more breaths, giving me a little more time to acclimate, holding me with his weight against the bed, forcing me to ground myself in our connection.
Gradually, my body relaxed again, as if it knew it was safe in his powerful hold.
“Okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded. “Yeah. I just…I want the rest.”
A low groan vibrated through him. “Thank fucking God.”
His final thrust was sudden and harsh, bottoming out in me with a suddenness that made us both shout together.
Then, although I honestly wasn’t sure how I could take anything more, he moved.
“Look at me,” he whispered as he took one hand and stretched it over my head, then pinned it into place while his hips started a punishing rhythm. “Know it’s my body making yours unravel. My dick stretching that sweet pussy. My tongue coated with your pleasure.”
I wanted to tell him I knew. Assure him that no part of me, body or mind, would ever forget this touch. That the last ten years of my life, my adolescent fantasies had been all but erased by the immediacy of him and the way he made me feel.
But my voice was robbed by those insistent movements, reduced to pitiful moans and whimpers swallowed by sinful kisses.
“This isn’t just sex,” Lucas continued along with his steady movements as he looped my knee over his arm, opening me wider. “Tell me you know that.”
I gasped as he drove deeper still. “I—oh, God , Lucas—I know.”
“I wanted you for years. Tried to pretend it wasn’t real. Tried to stay away.”
“I—you what—oh, God , Lucas, don’t stop!”
“I won’t,” he growled, his pace becoming more demanding, “because it’s always been you. Do you hear me, Marie? It’s. Always. Been. You.”
His hand slid between us, finding that spot that made my breath hitch. The pressure inside me coiled again, that ache deep where I couldn’t seem to find myself, but which he was able to serve with hand and cock at the same time.
“If that’s not love,” he said as his thrusts turned frantic, driving back into the bed with the force of a locomotive, “I don’t fucking know what is.”
“LUCAS!” My orgasm rushed through me, wracking my whole body with waves of tension that strung me out like a taut wire. I was gone, lost to the pleasure, sure that I really would disappear into the ether were it not for this man keeping me firmly anchored to the earth.
Lucas followed seconds later with a strangled moan, and my name whispered like a prayer.
His body pulled rigid as he shoved himself inside me one final time before he collapsed, allowing me to bear the whole weight of him, as if he still understood that was exactly what I needed to keep from evaporating completely.
“Marie,” he whispered as he brushed my hair back from my face. “Oh, God. My sweet, sweet Marie.”
I turned my head and kissed his temple, enjoying the salty taste of the sweat gathered there. “Lucas?”
He took several deep breaths, then he pressed back up onto his forearms to look down at me with a wearied but content expression. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Tentatively, I reached up to push a damp lock off his brow. Smooth the lines over his brow. Stroke the edge of his jaw until that tentative, almost uncertain smile of his emerged.
I wanted to tell him all the things that were flying through my mind. That he made me feel braver than I’d ever felt in my life. That by some strange sorcery, he kept me tethered and set me free at the same time.
I wanted him to know that I also understood the craving that had somehow crept into my bones and ached with emptiness when he wasn’t around to fill it.
That I could no longer deny the fact that I was in love with him too.
And that the sheer enormity of it scared me to my core.
But just when I opened my mouth to offer at least one of these truths, a loud, insistent knock battered the door of his suite.
“Lucas!” shouted an all-too-familiar voice. “Lucas, it’s Daniel! Open the door, you traitor, and let me in!”