Chapter 10 — Luke Time #4
That was Tatum. Coming apart and refusing to stop.
Laughing once because the pleasure surprised her, then swearing because it didn't let up.
She wasn't being carried by the moment. She was attacking it.
Claiming it. Making it hers until I could feel the shape of her desire in every hard, wet stroke.
I sat up fully and pulled her against me.
She wrapped her arms around my neck.
Now she was in my lap.
Again.
But there was no couch. No audience. No pretending.
Just her naked body on mine, my cock buried deep inside her, her hips grinding as she kissed me with everything she had.
"This," she whispered against my mouth. "This is what I wanted."
"I know."
"No." Her forehead pressed to mine. She kept moving, slower now, deeper, the slide of her body making both of us shake. "I wanted you to stop treating me like something you had to survive."
That one got under my ribs.
I slid one hand up her back and the other down to her ass, holding her tight as I thrust up into her.
"I'm not surviving you."
Her eyes searched mine.
"Then what are you doing?"
I kissed her.
Then I said the thing I could say without making it too clean or too safe or too small.
"Loving you, baby. I love you."
Her whole body shuddered. "God, I love you too, so fucking much."
Not an orgasm yet.
Worse.
The kind of tremor that meant the word had gone somewhere deeper than touch.
She kissed me like she hated how much she needed it, messy and open, hips still moving in my lap, pussy fluttering around my cock in little warning pulses. I held her by the ass and fucked up into her, harder now, short, deep strokes that kept her trapped right where she wanted to be.
"Say it again," she whispered.
"I love you."
Her eyes squeezed shut.
"Fuck."
I hooked an arm under her and turned us, putting her on her back without pulling out. She landed with a gasp, hair spilling across the pillow, breasts moving with the sudden shift. I caught one in my hand and lowered my mouth to the other, sucking her nipple as I started driving into her again.
She cried out and grabbed at me.
"Luke."
"Still want me to stop being careful?"
"Yes." Her legs locked around my hips. "Yes. Fuck me like you mean it."
She came apart.
It hit her hard and fast, her entire body locking around me. Her mouth opened against mine, but no sound came out for the first second. Then she cried out, shaking, pussy clamping down on my cock in hot, pulsing waves that nearly dragged me with her.
I held on.
Barely.
She trembled through it, hips jerking, breasts crushed to my chest, nails biting into my shoulders.
I kept moving because she was still grinding against me, still chasing, still taking.
Her orgasm rolled into something messier and longer, and when she finally found enough breath to speak, her voice was wrecked.
"Don't stop."
I didn't.
I turned her under me again, pulled her legs high around my waist, and drove into her with everything I'd been holding back.
Her hands flew to the headboard.
"Holy fuck."
The angle was deeper. Rougher. Her body slid up the bed with each thrust until I grabbed her hips and pinned her where I wanted her. She looked up at me, eyes glassy, mouth swollen, breasts bouncing hard with every drive of my hips.
"You're so beautiful," I said.
She made a sound that might have been my name.
I couldn't tell anymore.
I was too far gone.
Her pussy was slick and hot and still fluttering from the orgasm. My cock slid in and out of her in hard, wet strokes, each one dragging me closer. She took all of it. Wanted all of it. Her legs shook around me, but she held on, meeting me as much as she could.
"Come in me," she said.
My rhythm faltered.
She heard it. Felt it.
Her eyes sharpened through the haze.
"I want it. I want you to. Please, Luke. Inside me."
There were conversations we should have had.
There were careful, responsible thoughts that should have lined up neatly in my head.
None of them stood a chance against Tatum under me, naked and shaking and asking for exactly what she wanted.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," she said, fierce and immediate. "Yes. I want to feel it. I want you. Stop making me beg unless you plan to enjoy it."
God help me, I did enjoy it.
I kissed her hard and fucked her harder.
The last of my control went fast. Her body tightened under mine. Her nails dragged down my back. She came again with a broken cry, smaller than the first but sharper, her pussy clenching around me in tight, helpless pulses.
That was it.
I buried myself deep and came inside her.
It hit like a white flash behind my eyes.
I groaned into her neck, hips locked to hers, cock pulsing as I filled her.
She wrapped herself around me and held me there, whispering something I couldn't understand while my body emptied into hers and the world narrowed to heat, sweat, and the impossible feeling of Tatum taking every bit of me.
For a long time, neither of us moved.
I couldn't.
She wouldn't.
Her legs stayed locked around my waist. Her arms stayed around my neck. My cock was still inside her, softening slowly, cum leaking around me and making a mess of both of us.
"Kiki was right," she whispered.
"Right about what, baby?"
"My first time was so much better with someone I truly love."
I went still. "Tatum, you should have told me you’re a virgin."
"Was a virgin," Tatum said, kissing my jaw again with a soft giggle. "And I didn't tell you because you'd have gotten careful, and I didn't want careful. I wanted you."
My chest cracked open.
"Now I'm yours," she whispered. "Forever and always."
I laughed because I didn't have enough air to do anything else. "You really are trouble."
"I'm your trouble, and that was better than the Ferris wheel."
I laughed harder and nearly collapsed on top of her.
She held me tighter.
"Don't move yet," she said.
"Wasn't planning to."
"Good. I like you there."
Her voice had gone soft.
Not small.
Never small.
But soft enough to make the room feel different around us.
I kissed her shoulder and stayed exactly where she wanted me.
***
She refused to let me out.
That wasn't a metaphor.
I tried to shift my weight so I wasn't crushing her, and Tatum locked her legs tighter around my hips, arms cinching around my neck with impressive post-orgasm determination.
"No."
"I'm heavy."
"You're useful."
"As a blanket?"
"As a lot of things." Her mouth brushed my ear. "Currently as a plug."
I choked on a laugh.
She grinned against my neck, clearly pleased with herself.
"Tatum."
"What? It's true. I can feel it. You're leaking out of me, and if you move, your sheets are going to lose the war."
"I think the sheets already lost."
"Then they died honorably."
I lifted my head enough to look at her.
She was a wreck.
Beautifully, completely wrecked. Hair stuck to her temples. Lips swollen. Cheeks flushed. Her breasts were pressed to my chest, her skin damp everywhere we touched. Her eyes were heavy and bright at the same time, which was such a Tatum thing it made my chest ache.
She smiled up at me.
"What?"
"You look happy."
"I'm happy." She said it like it was obvious. Then her smile turned wicked. "Also full. Very full. I might write a review."
"Please don't."
"Five stars. Excellent service. Strong follow-through. Left me unable to feel my legs, which was inconvenient but on brand."
I dropped my forehead to her shoulder.
She laughed, breathless and warm, and dragged her fingers through my hair.
We stayed like that until my arms started to shake.
Eventually I eased us sideways without separating completely, which earned me a suspicious look but no formal complaint.
She tucked herself against me the second we were on our sides, one leg over mine, one hand planted on my chest like she expected me to disappear if she wasn't physically monitoring my heartbeat.
The room smelled like sex, sunscreen, sweat, and my sheets giving up.
Outside the bedroom, my house was quiet.
Too quiet, almost, after the noise of the fair and the kitchen and Tatum's voice in my ear.
But not empty. Downstairs there were flowers in a mug and groceries in the pantry and women out in the world with my credit card buying steaks, dresses, and whatever else made them feel like this place belonged to them.
Tatum's fingers moved over my chest.
"I want to ruin every room in your house."
I turned my head. "That's ambitious."
"I'm a goal-oriented person."
"You're many things. I'm not sure goal-oriented is the phrase."
"Rude." She nipped my shoulder. "Accurate, but rude."
I smiled into her hair.
Then her fingers stopped moving.
I felt the change before she spoke.
"Luke?"
"Yeah."
"I want a room."
The air shifted.
Not colder.
More important.
I waited.
That was the trick with Tatum. You couldn't chase the serious thing too fast or she'd throw glitter at it and run.
She took a breath.
"Not because I'm planning to sleep by myself all the time. Obviously. I mean, look at me. I'm attached. I love you so much, and I may have fused with you. Medical science will have questions."
"Naturally."
"And not because I need, like, rescuing." Her fingers tapped once against my chest, then flattened there. "I don't want to be the girl who gets brought here after chaos and tucked somewhere until she's normal again."
"That's not what you are."
"I know." She swallowed. "I think I know. But I want proof anyway."
I turned fully toward her.
She kept her eyes on my chest for another second, then made herself look at me.
"Kiki has things here. Shay has things here. Penny is going to, because she's Penny and the second you told her she could, she probably started mentally reorganizing a closet with frightening precision. I want that too."
"A closet?"