25
ELEANOR
The door sticks a little. I push it open with my shoulder and let it swing into the empty apartment.
The wooden floors creak and echo through the empty living room, or what I would assume to be the living room. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s mine. A living room, kitchen, and bedroom, with white walls and big windows that will let in gorgeous sunlight during the day. The living room might even be big enough for me to cordon off a bit of it for a studio, and I can use that light to my advantage.
My fingers itch for my camera.
In the dark, though, there is a pulsing potential. The quiet. The stillness. There’s room for me here.
That’s what I was searching for when I left Chicago. Room. I didn’t even have room in my relationship after I had been cheated on, and the city carried that angst with it. I didn’t feel at home on the streets I’d known for over a decade. I felt like all the midwestern smiles and nods were of pity and concern rather than the usual sweetness.
I’ve been hesitant to accept that Austin has made room for me from the beginning. Because my job was only a stint, because I was a stranger being given the southern hospitality routine, because, well, why should I fit in when the place I called home didn’t feel like home anymore?
It was too easy. Too good to be true.
But I can romanticize a life in this apartment. In Austin.
And not just because of Luke. Although, he definitely helps.
Luke’s arms wrap around my shoulders, and he tucks his chin on my head. I lean back into him, hooking my hands over his forearm.
“Welcome home, baby.”
I sigh happily, and let my eyes flutter shut.
“Of course, it will feel more like home when you actually have furniture, but . . .”
“Isn’t that picking nits? All I’d need is a sleeping bag and—”
“Okay, wise guy,” he says. He reaches into my bag, hanging off my shoulder, and pulls out a bottle of champagne he snagged from the venue before we left. “In all the excitement, I forgot we don’t have cups.”
I step away to face him and shrug my shoulders. “What the hey, we’ll drink from the bottle.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Eleanor?” Luke says.
I giggle and fish my camera out of my bag before tossing it on the floor.
Luke strips the champagne bottle of its foil and cage with his long fingers, and I get a funny feeling in my belly, wishing his fingers were tangled up in my panties rather than the metal wrapped around the cork.
I shake it off and frame the shot.
Luke lifts his eyes. It’s dark in here, the room only lit by the streetlight outside the windows. But my eyes have adjusted enough to be able to be struck by his baby blues as I always am.
I snap the shot. He smiles and drops his head bashfully. “You don’t like having your photo taken?” I ask, glancing down at the small screen to check out the photo. For a tall guy, he looks so small in the empty room. His hand is wrapped around the neck of the bottle so tenderly it makes my insides melt.
“I’m not used to it. Not since I was a kid. Plus, I’m a behind-the-scenes kind of guy.”
“Says the guy who hasn’t worn the same hat twice the entire time I’ve known him.”
He guffaws, the noise echoing off the bare walls. “That’s not true.”
“Admit it, you like the attention.”
Luke shakes his head and smiles the kind of smile that looks like it could drip from one side of his face. “I like your attention, Nor.”
My mouth gets hot.
Luke wraps his hand around the cork of the bottle and twists until the effervescent pop erupts, his hand following the trajectory of the pressure.
“Damn, you’re good at that.”
“The cork can sense fear,” he says, holding the bottle out to me. “You get the first swig.”
“Ah, what a gentleman.”
“Southern hospitality.”
I laugh and swipe the bottle from him before taking a big gulp of champagne. I haven’t done something like this since college. Drinking directly from a bottle, standing in an under-furnished apartment. All that’s missing is loud music that I don’t know the words to and the smell of sweat and saliva.
The champagne pops and burns down my throat, invigorating and delicious.
“That my girl,” he says.
I wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand, and hand him the bottle. I like being his girl.
Luke swigs the bottle too, then takes in the size of the room. “Couch can go here,” he says, gesturing to the spot where he stands. “You’ll need a credenza. You a television person?”
“I like watching some television from time to time.”
“Okay, well that could go against that wall. A couple of chairs . . . you’ll need some good lighting, none of that overhead shit.”
His excitement is palpable. Totally adorable.
“And we’ll get you some nice art. I know some people.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Is this my apartment or yours?”
Luke stops, then laughs at himself. “Sorry, I’m excited.”
I sidle up to him and take the bottle. “You’re allowed to be excited.”
His eyes stay on mine as I take another drink of champagne. Once I’ve swallowed, he asks, “Do you promise this is what you want?”
I thrust the bottle back into his hand. “I promise, Luke.”
“Not just because I coerced you or something,” he says, scratching the back of his head.
“You didn’t coerce me. I thought about it. Granted, I only had until the end of the day, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” I go to the window, lean on the frame, and look down at the street outside. “I’m not staying for you,” I say.
Luke clears his throat. “Right, of course you’re not.”
“Let me finish,” I go on, glancing back at him. “I’m not staying for you, but I’m not not staying for you. Does that make sense?”
Luke places the bottle of champagne down by my bag and takes a few steps closer to me. “I think so.”
“I want a career. I want to have a good job, and I don’t just want to be someone’s . . . someone.”
“You’d never be ‘just’ that,” he says.
I remain silent as Luke leans his body over mine, putting his forearm against the wall above my head. Damn, I love feeling small in his shadow. Protected and special.
“I trust you,” I say, touching the lapel of his jacket.
“Yeah?”
“I’m terrified, but I trust you.”
Luke tilts his head to one side, eyes softening. “You have no idea what that means to me.”
“You have to be careful with me.”
“I’d never dream of being any other way with you.”
“Tender, you know?”
Luke runs his thumb down my jaw. “Always.”
Though the moment between us is long and languid, my insides are spiraling out of control. I want him. I’ve wanted him and I’m ready for him to shuck off the gentleman and give me the full man he can be.
“I can’t make any promises,” I say. “About forever, or—”
“I’m not asking for that.”
I grab his jacket harder. “But I can promise to try my best to make it so.”
Luke’s lips part. His breath is shallow and strained.
“I can promise to try for forever,” I say. Maybe it’s too much. And if it is, it’s best we walk away right now. But I can’t deny how I’m feeling. The longer I spend with Luke, the more I can see him in my life for a long, long time.
Longer than long, maybe.
“If you walked out of my life right now,” Luke says, his voice gravelly and low, “the time we’ve had together would be more than I deserve.”
I fist his jacket and pull him closer to me. “You deserve everything, Luke.” I tip my head back, inclining my lips toward his. I want him to take what I’m giving without me having to ask. I know he can. “You deserve everything I have to give.”
The spark goes off in the depths of Luke’s growing pupils. He kisses me, finally. And as our tongues twine together, I push his jacket down his arms. The message should be clear by now.
I want him. In every way a person can want someone.
The jacket falls to our feet, and once my hands are available again, I cup his cheeks and bend my body, pouring my weight into him so he feels every part of me.
“Jesus, Eleanor,” he rasps against my lips.
I kiss him again before we can get lost in words. Luke gets the hint, lets his hands stray from my back to my ass. He pulls my hips flush to him and rubs against me.
I moan into his mouth. It feels so good, the throbbing between my legs, even better when Luke’s the cause.
One hand tangled in my curls, Luke pulls back. “There’s not even a bed.”
“So?”
His eyebrows lift. “Okay, I—”
“I mean, do you need one?” I ask.
“No, you just didn’t strike me as the type to be—”
“Luke, haven’t you learned by now that I’m full of surprises?”
Luke laughs. “Trust me, Eleanor, not a day goes by where you don’t—”
I shut him up with my lips, throwing myself onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck. If I could speak, I’d say, “Take me, take me, take me,” but I’ll have to let my body do the talking.
Luke’s hands rush up the fabric of my skirt until he’s able to tuck them around my ass cheeks. He groans, squeezes, fondles, and then his fingers are looping around my panties. Playing with them. Not rushing.
I respond in kind, grabbing his belt buckle, undoing it the best I can with my eyes closed, tangled in kiss after kiss after kiss. Once the belt is off, I grab a handful of him through his pants.
He grunts. “Fuck, Eleanor.”
I rub, looking up at him with my lowered eyelids. Ever since I met him, he has been composed and coiffed Luke Wyatt. The most clean-cut cowboy in Texas. I want to see him lose control. All because of me.
“You’re teasing me.”
“No, if I was teasing you, I’d do this . . .”
I spin out of his grip and grab the skirt of my dress, inching it up my thighs.
Luke watches, smiling mouth ajar, his hand dropping to his crotch where his cock presses angrily through the front of his pants.
I finally raise the skirt up enough so he can see my underwear.
His eyes roll back, and he shakes his head. “Fuck it, I’m not patient enough for this.”
Luke drops to his knees in front of me and before I can react, he pulls my panties aside and buries his face between my legs.
“Luke!” I choke out, placing my hand on his shoulder for balance.
His stubble scrapes the inside of my thighs, and his tongue, god his tongue, laps at my slit, circling my clit. “God, you’re so wet,” he says against me before going in for another lick.
“I’m . . . oh god.” Every part of me wants to liquify.
Luke grabs my dress and tugs. “Off. Take it off.”
I do so, which is a hard task when my muscles are trembling and I can’t hold onto anything, but I manage it. I look down the front of my exposed body and find Luke staring up at me, his mouth pressed against me.
I rake my fingers through his hair, relishing how his eyes flutter shut.
Luke pulls my leg over his shoulder, forcing me to give into him, pressing my folds tighter to his face. He burrows his nose against my clit, making my body balk in surprise, a whimper stuttering out of my mouth.
Luke moans against me, the vibrations trembling through me. I’m so hot, hotter than if I was baking in the midday Austin summer sun.
“What the fuck . . . what the fuck ,” I squeak. I didn’t take Luke for an asshole who refuses to eat women out, but I had no idea he would do it with such enthusiasm.
The way he’s working me, I’m not sure I can last. And he knows it; he can feel the way my thighs are clenching and unclenching around his face.
“Fuck my face, baby,” he says breathlessly. “Come for me.”
I didn’t realize I was bucking my hips against him until he said that. But I am absolutely grinding against his face, my clit swimming with impending ecstasy. “Luke, oh my god, Luke.” I wrap my hand around the nape of his neck to steady myself, because once I come, I won’t have a leg to stand on . . . literally .
He groans into me and snaps his lips around my tender bud of nerves like it’s a delicacy.
A shock runs through me. I shudder. And with a few more undulations of my hips, I’m coming. I tell him as much, though it comes out strained and squeaky between a tremulous moan.
Luke’s hands, which were gripped around the backs of my thighs, turn soft and tender, allowing me to sink down into his lap. He immediately kisses me, allowing me to taste how I’ve coated his lips and chin. A heavenly taste, made even better by the way it mingles with the natural taste of his mouth that I’ve come to know and love.
I’ve never been with someone this long and not had sex with them.
When our lips part, time slows.
I begin to undo the buttons of his shirt. One by one. No rush. I glance up to meet Luke’s gaze. Something about him seems shy, which is surprising considering he was just devouring me like I was his last meal.
I smile. He smiles.
Once the shirt is undone, I trace the muscles of his torso. He’s not overly built, but they’re there. He takes care of himself. I press my palms to his pecs. Feeling his warmth, his thrumming heartbeat, and his soft swaths of chest hair. “God, you’re sexy,” I say.
Luke chuckles almost like he doesn’t believe me. “I’m glad you think so.”
“No thinking about it,” I say. “It’s a fact.”
He shrugs off his shirt, then reaches around to undo my bra. “Fair is fair.”
I blush. Unresistant of course. I want him to see me.
The way his eyes pin to my breasts once they’re exposed could make me come again. Luke licks his lips and leans into lap at my pebbling nipples, but I stop him, grabbing his chin. “Luke?”
“What?”
I graze my lips against his, not quite a kiss. A taunt. “I want you inside me.”
Luke’s breath stills.
“I don’t want to wait anymore.”
He swallows. “Who am I to deny a woman what she wants?”
I laugh, long and hard. “Once a gentleman . . .”
We work Luke’s pants down, then his boxer briefs. When his erection emerges, I can’t keep myself from gaping.
“Too big?” he asks.
I push him on the shoulder. “Shut up!”
Luke laughs hard, falling onto his elbows as I pull his briefs off, followed by my panties, leaving us both naked on the floor of my new, unfurnished apartment.
I lick my lips. If I wasn’t so desperate to have him inside, I’d take him into my mouth. Taste the bead of precum that’s appeared on the head, delight in the salty strangeness of his taste.
“Condom in my wallet,” he says, cotton-mouthed, anticipation racking every one of his words.
I reach into his pants pocket, grab the wallet, and fish out the golden package. “You would be a condom-in-the-wallet type of guy.”
“Trust me, it’s been a while since I’ve had to replace it,” he says, holding out his hand for me to give it to him.
I ignore his hand and rip it open myself. “Can I put it on you?”
“Uh, fuck yes.”
I place the condom at the tip of him and roll it down, watching how his face contorts with my merest touch.
“Eleanor . . .” he sighs, head falling back.
I say nothing, straddle his hips, and place the head of him against my opening. My nerves are already perking with pleasure, excited to have him again. Deeper this time.
Luke grabs one of my hips. “Take it slow, okay? I don’t want to . . . too fast.”
I smile at him. Luke Wyatt, ladies’ man, scared to come too fast. Wanting me to go slow. “If you did, I’d be flattered.”
“Eleanor, if I really didn’t give a shit, I would have fucking lost it when you pulled off your dress, that’s the kind of situation we’re dealing with here.”
“Just look at me,” I say.
Luke’s eyes meet mine. And I sink down onto him, just the tip at first because it’s clear that it is a total shock to his senses. His hand tightens on my hip, a curse puffs out of his lips, and his expression is distressed.
Distressed over want of me, is a look I didn’t know I liked on a man until now.
I follow his instruction and go slow, taking him inch by inch. For me too. He’s big and I need to stretch. It doesn’t take long for my body to adjust though, for the discomfort to turn into a numbness beyond which I know is exquisite pleasure.
Once I have enough of him, I start to ride, up and down. Taking my time.
“Fuck, look at you,” he sighs. “Gorgeous.”
I take off my glasses.
“Lean forward for me,” Luke says.
I do so until his hand cups one of my breasts and he brings it to his mouth. I gasp. His tongue strikes against my nipple, and circles it like he did my clit, all the while massaging my breast. My body relaxes more around him. I brace myself against his chest as I ride.
Luke starts to move with me, withdrawing as I do, thrusting while I slide. He groans around my nipple and lets it pop out of his mouth to utter a singular “Goddamn” before moving to the other one.
I move my hands up his body to his shoulders.
We lock into a rhythm, the pace increasing without either of us thinking or deciding. It just happens. Breaths and moans fill the empty apartment, each one cascading into the corners and echoing back at us just how good we feel.
Luke takes his mouth off my breast and grabs me by the back of the neck, dragging me into a kiss. His other hand grips my thigh, and suddenly I’m not in control at all. It’s all him. Fucking me hard and fast, driving up into me.
I drag my lips off his and cry out his name.
“Yeah, baby? You feel good,” he grunts.
“So good, Luke, oh my god, you’re going to make me—”
“ Again?! ” he asks, breathlessly.
Which makes him work even harder.
It’s a different kind of orgasm, though. He’s able to reach an untouched part of me, one that is wanton, warm, and willing.
I cling to him with everything I have in me, every muscle contracting to hold on.
Luke puts his mouth to my ear. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you.”
And then I’m falling off the edge of a cliff.
I can’t see the bottom and don’t know when the earth will strike, so I enjoy the thrill of falling, the euphoria coursing through me. I press my mouth to his neck and scream out, knowing that if I let it free and wild, it would ping against the walls of the apartment and make a strange first impression on my neighbors.
“God, you’re tight, you’re so tight, I’m coming,” he husks with a few final thrusts until he gives into the way I’m pulsing around him. An unrepentant groan explodes from his mouth, but he does not pay any mind to decorum. He lets it free. Wild. So that I know exactly how badly he’s wanted this.
Together, slick with sweat, we try to catch our breath. I couldn’t get off of him even if I wanted to. Luke has his hands clasped around my lower back, keeping me tight to him, right there, afraid he might lose me if he were to let go.
I kiss a line up his shoulder to his neck, across his jaw and chin, and land at his mouth. He squeezes me tighter if that were possible. And though the kiss is chaste, it’s the deepest kiss we’ve ever shared.
When my lips part from his, Luke smiles and nuzzles his nose against mine. “Welcome home, baby.”