Chapter 13 #3
I gasp at the intense stretch, and it’s somehow too much and not enough all at once.
He groans as his head falls back, his eyes closing in ecstasy. “Putain, you feel like heaven.”
I dig my nails into his arms as he leans down and kisses me again.
His hands frame my face as he sinks into me inch by inch, his forehead pressed to mine, our breaths tangled.
There’s a sting, pressure, a stretch that makes my breath hitch, but it’s not as bad as it was with Finn, and I don’t want to stop when he’s looking at me like I’m his gravity.
“You okay?” he whispers, barely moving.
I nod, clutching his shoulders. “Yeah. Just don’t move for a sec.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “I’ve got you.”
The stars blink above us like they’re holding their breath as we stay like that, heartbeats syncing, bodies still.
When the ache dulls and I nod again, he pulls back slightly and rolls his hips forward slowly.
It knocks the breath out of me again, and my fingers dig into his back, not from pain but from how right it feels.
He’s so warm, so solid, and every movement feels like he’s asking again and again—are you sure, do you trust me, is this still okay?
Every moan I give him is an answer.
I tug at his hair for another kiss, one that quickly turns hungry and desperate, chasing the rhythm of his body, my hips rising to meet every thrust. The heat coils in my belly again, slower this time.
Luc’s lips trail down my neck, his breath warm against my skin, igniting a trail of goose bumps.
He lingers at the hollow of my throat, his tongue flicking out to taste me before he sucks, creating a blossoming ache that sends shivers through me, and urging me to raise my hips to meet his.
He groans against my neck, and the sound is so utterly Luc that it makes my knees weak.
He moves lower, his mouth finding the curve of my shoulder, nipping and kissing, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. Each kiss, each bite, is a mark, a claim, and I revel in the sensation of being wanted, of being his.
When his mouth finally wraps around my nipple, I cry out at the overwhelming sensation of his wet mouth alongside his continuous thrusting, and I find myself lost in the rhythm of his mouth and his hips. It’s as if he’s memorizing me and branding me with his love.
“Lu-uc.” I’m barely able to catch my breath.
His hand slides between my thighs, fingers finding my clit again, and I surrender completely, letting go of all my fears and insecurities. In this moment, under the stars, wrapped in lavender, there’s only him and me, and the fire between us.
“Tu es parfaite,” he breathes into my neck, punctuating his words with thrusts. “You’re perfect, Petite. Mmm. Feels so damn good.”
And right now, beneath him, I feel perfect.
“Look at me.” He pants, one hand cradling my cheek, grounding me even as his hips drive into mine. His thrusts come faster now, deeper, but they’re still careful. “I want to see you when you come around my bite.”
His words hit me low and hot, and my eyes flutter, trying to hold onto him through the blur of pleasure. My hands clutch at him, anywhere I can find skin, while he brushes his mouth over mine, coaxing me back to him.
“S’il te pla?t, ma Petite,” he murmurs, his breath fanning across my cheek. “Let me see you.”
I force my eyes open, and the moment I meet his intense blue gaze, it’s like a fuse is lit.
The pleasure crests again, but this time it’s too big, too much, and when it happens, it’s like falling, flying, breathing, and being alive.
My body tightens, legs locking around his waist, and my nails scrape his back as I sob his name.
There’s no other word big enough to hold what I feel.
I arch into him, clinging to him, and Luc follows me over the edge with a low moan, burying his face in my neck as he shudders through it, whispering broken French against my skin.
His body melts into mine, and for a long, breathless minute, there’s only the sound of our hearts slowing in sync.
When he finally moves and pulls out, it’s only to shift slightly, to drape himself half across me, one arm lazily curling around my waist, before his fingers start to sketch soft circles over my stomach.
I’m quiet, still catching my breath and trying to understand how I can feel so full and raw and safe all at once.
He’s the one who breaks the silence. “So, was that good enough to earn me smug bragging rights for, like, ever?”
“Please.” I try to snort, but it comes out more like a tired exhale.
He lifts his head, eyes softening as they meet mine. “You okay?”
I graze my knuckles over his cheek. “More than okay.”
“Good.” He kisses my temple. “Because I think we just broke the lavender.”
I glance beside me, and sure enough, the blooms are utterly crushed.
“That poor plant didn’t stand a chance.”
“Neither did I,” he murmurs, brushing hair back from my face.
I never thought I’d want a chance for this. Have a chance for this. For anything beyond revenge and pain, but now that I have it, I want to stay.
And I want more.
Of this.
Of him.
Of life.