24. Luka
LUKA
The floral musk of Brooklyn’s perfume greets me as I step into the penthouse Monday evening, telling me she’s back.
I barely slept the last few nights, knowing she was so far away, doing whatever she was up to with Mateo under the guise of a bachelorette party.
It was the first time I’ve been alone in the penthouse since she moved in and I swear I could feel her absence like a tangible thing.
It created a sort of tension that could only be broken by one thing.
Her coming home.
Her keys are lying in the little ceramic bowl on the side table; her purse sitting on the edge as if she’d simply tossed it there instead of putting it away like she normally does.
I walk quietly down the entry hall to the living room, listening for her.
The gentle beat of the shower trickles through the open space and my cock immediately comes to life.
She’s home and she’s naked in the shower.
Two of my favorite things. I’d love to barge in and join her.
I think to her haphazard purse on the table.
Why was she in such a hurry to get home and jump in the shower?
What kind of lies is she washing off?
Setting my jaw, I resist the urge to barge into her en-suite bathroom and demand to know what she was really doing in LA.
My sister and sister-in-law already threw her a lavish party here last month, along with a few of her model friends.
Granted, Mateo hadn’t been able to attend, but still.
I don’t believe the bachelorette party cover-up for one second.
Her departure was so last minute. So impromptu. Brooklyn has to be up to something.
Either she’s fucking Mateo, or—
Fuck! My whole body goes tense and hot at the mental image of her underneath that guy—any guy, I don’t care who.
I can’t shake my anger at her for running off.
Especially given that the past few weeks have been different between us.
More real. I’d been slow to realize it because I didn’t want to face it, but there’s no doubt in my mind that things’ve changed.
Yesterday morning it came to me clear as crystal while I was sweating out my shitty mood at the gym.
I like taking care of Brooklyn, doing little things for her.
I fucking loved it when she got all possessive over me at the photo shoot.
What the other model had said about me was true.
I had fucked every female in that room at one time.
It’s an uncomfortable, even caustic, situation for a fiancée to find herself in—but instead of cowering, or taking the socially acceptable high road, Brooklyn had stood up for herself, and for our relationship.
And I swear it meant something—that I meant something more than just the agreement we’ve made.
Loosening my tie, I remove my cufflinks and roll up my shirt sleeves.
My clothes feel too tight all of a sudden.
Needing to calm down, I go to the large windows and look out over the city.
Dusk is beginning to fall, and lights dot the buildings in different hues of silver and gold.
Streaks of purple and orange fade into the encroaching night.
Brooklyn should be here right now, her naked body pressed against the glass.
I swear I’ll make her forget every man she’s ever fucked.
“Luka? Hi.”
I turn to find Brooklyn rubbing her hair with a towel. A pink robe clings to her curves as if she put it on while her skin was still damp, her nipples perking beneath the silky fabric.
“I texted you earlier to let you know I was home. Did you get it?”
Ah, so now she’s trying to play nice. She couldn’t be bothered to tell me she was leaving town on her very sudden, very secretive little trip, so why have a change of heart now?
“I did.” I just chose not to respond. Two can play at this game.
“Oh. Okay.” She drapes the towel over her forearm. “How was work?”
The mundane small talk sets off my frustration. Turning to fully face her, I run a hand over my mouth. “Why did you go to LA, Brooklyn?”
Her eyes widen. “I told you. For a really last-minute bachelorette party.”
“My family just threw you one a few weeks ago.”
She looks away, and I can’t tell if it’s guilt or lies she’s trying to hide from me. “I know, and it was lovely. But my LA friends had to miss it, and Mateo was already out there for work, so he thought we should have a second party so I could celebrate again.”
I’m not buying it. “What LA friends? You never mentioned them before.”
Brooklyn shrugs and pauses, probably scrambling to come up with more lies.
“Just, you know. Anjali, who models part-time and runs a non-profit magazine, her boyfriend Jacob. He’s a dental student or something at USC.
Pera Lutz, you’ve heard of her. She modeled for that luxury car company last year—she played the secret agent in all the commercials.
And then Bowie and Harper from YouTube, they run a makeup channel. ”
The names are familiar…so maybe she’s not completely lying. I take a couple steps toward her, my pulse racing. Part of me is glad she’s back. The other part is still too suspicious, too jealous, whatever, to fully embrace how nice it is having her in my—our—home again.
“Where did you have the party?”
Her smooth brow crinkles. “Why the hundred questions?”
I move closer. “What aren’t you telling me? Why can’t you just answer them?”
“I am.”
“Okay, then tell me what you did last night. Tell me all of it.” I’m so close to her now that I could touch her. I want to, but I might not be gentle, so I don’t. As if she senses how tense I am, her eyes track up to mine as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“We had a couple drinks at Mateo’s. Then we went to Shin Ho’s on Sunset for pad Thai until about eleven. And then to meet Anjali at some whiskey bar downtown that I’ve never heard of, and then home. Happy?”
“Your home is here.” The words drop from my mouth like rocks.
Her entire expression changes to one of disbelief. “Are you saying I’m not allowed to ever leave here? You know what I meant.”
There has to be another reason she took off. “And this morning, before your flight?”
She backs away with an irritated sound. “You know what, Luka, the whole possessive thing was kind of fun when I thought it meant something, but now you’re just being a dick.”
I put my arms on either side of her, caging her against the wall. “I’m just curious what my fiancée has been up to.”
She looks up at me, glaring, her breath coming faster. “I might be your fiancée, but I’m still my own person and I’m allowed to have my own life. I’ve already told you everything you need to know. There’s nothing wrong with me keeping some things to myself!”
“Fine.” Stepping closer, I press my hips into hers. “As long as you remember that your body belongs to me.”
A desperate whimper comes from her throat, her mouth parting willingly as I dip my head to kiss her hard.
Her soft taste floods me and I’m overcome with how much I want her.
Remembering my earlier wish, I walk her back across the room, feasting on her mouth like a starving man as we go.
She gasps as her back presses against the cool glass of the window, her thin robe doing nothing to protect her from the slight chill.
I’m angry and aroused and I don’t want to control myself. I want to strip her bare and fuck her against the backdrop of the night sky and the lights, where anyone with a good view could look up and see her luscious body pressed to the glass.
Stripping the robe off her, I can’t get enough of the sight of her body.
My cock is so hard for her it’s almost painful.
Her chest heaves, her heavy breasts thrusting out for me, those pebbled nipples just begging to be sucked.
Taking her face between my hands, I press into her and claim her mouth, kissing her until we’re both breathless.
She squirms and twists with a little pant, face flushed with anger.
Our eyes lock and I feel the force of her raging emotions like a blow to the chest. It’s pissing her off that she wants me so much.
She grips the front of my shirt. “You’re an asshole.”
“Get used to it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, Brooklyn, I plan to fuck the memory of every man you’ve ever had right out of you. Starting now.”
I reach between her legs. She’s soaked, her juices coating my fingers as I pump them into her.
She bucks against me with a moan and palms the window to steady herself.
I wrap my mouth around her nipples, sucking hard, one after the other, and then trail a line of kisses up her throat until I reach her lips again.
All the while, I fuck her with my hand until she’s panting my name, completely helpless.
She’s so slick, it’s running down my wrist.
“I thought about this last night,” I growl against her lips. “Thought about your sweet pussy so much I had to jack off just to get to sleep.”
“Luka,” she moans, head tilted back, eyes closed.
Her cunt swells around my fingers and a flame of satisfaction lights inside me.
I use my thumb to stroke her clit while I thrust, her hips rocking against my hand as I work her, feeling her getting closer and closer to the edge.
She’s taking me with her, but it’s not purely sexual.
I’m tiptoeing around the rim of something I don’t understand—a longing, a need to have this every night.
To be the only one who makes her feel like this.
Fuck.
“Listen to me, Brooklyn.” I flick my thumb over her swollen clit. She cries out, one arm locking around my neck in a death grip. “I’m gonna make sure you never think about another man when I’m fucking you.”
“Your ego would love that, wouldn’t it?” Her eyes flash.
Instead of answering, I lower the zipper on my pants and let my cock spring free.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I challenge, pressing against her wet cunt.
She licks her lower lip with her tongue, and I lose any sense of self-control.
Grabbing her hips, I spin her so she’s facing the window and then pull her smooth, firm ass back to me.
I grab one perfect globe in my hand and then slap it hard enough that it will leave a mark.
She gasps with pleasure but doesn’t resist—just pushes back against me, wanting more.
I smack her ass one more time, grab a handful of her silky hair, and nudge her legs farther apart before driving into her in one perfect, hard thrust. We both cry out and I swear I could explode already.
She drives me insane, pushes me further than any woman ever has.
The craving never goes away and I can’t get enough of her.
“No man has ever fucked you this good.” I pull her hair until her head snaps back.
A hard tremble courses through her body, her pussy clamping hard around me as I jackhammer into her.
“Whatever you were doing out in LA, whoever you were doing, I’m gonna make sure you can’t think about him while I’m inside you.
I’m gonna fuck anyone else right out of you. ”
She makes a desperate sound as she drives her hips back to meet my thrusts. I ram into her harder, harder, the burn of jealousy surprising me. All the tension and anger and worry of thinking about her being with Mateo or another man floods out of me as I ride her until we’re both strung tight.
“Luka, please.” Her soft, desperate plea drives me to finally push her over the edge.
I reach around and stroke her clit as I increase my pace.
It only takes seconds and she’s crying out with the force of her orgasm, her whole body tensing up as the climax slams through her.
I lose control and come with her, pressing her into the glass with both hands until we finally go still.
Breathing hard. Sweaty. Lost in our own thoughts.
I want to stay pissed at her, but I want to carry her to my bed and feel the warmth of her body next to me all night even more. Running a hand through my hair, I pull away and slip an arm around her waist to steady her as she turns to face me.
Brooklyn searches my eyes as if she’s waiting for me to say something…
or maybe she has something to say herself, but in the end she doesn’t.
Goosebumps rise on her body and I quickly retrieve her robe and wrap it around her shoulders.
The moment is over, the possessive jealousy fucked right out of me. But I still want her.
Even as she walks quietly away to her room, I wish she would turn around and run into my arms.
But she doesn’t. And I don’t do anything to stop her.