Chapter 8 #2
I shove at his chest, not to push him away but to put space between us so I can reach for his belt. “God, I hate you,” I whisper, but my fingers are already working his belt open, jerking the leather through the loops.
“Yeah?” Luke’s voice is gravelly as he palms my ass through my jeans, squeezing hard. “Then why the fuck are your hands shaking while you’re trying to get my dick out?”
I can't even answer him. I don't know why I'm doing this, but my God, do I want him so badly.
I shove his jeans down his hips far enough to free him.
His dick springs into my palm and I stroke the full length, gripping the hard shaft with enough pressure to make him groan into my mouth.
He retaliates by popping the button on my jeans and dragging the zipper down so slowly it feels like torture.
“Christ,” he grumbles as he pushes the jeans and panties over my hips. I step out of one leg, then the other, kicking the jeans and panties aside, and hear my shoe drop to the ground under the pile.
"He's not here. I am. Worship me," I pant, stroking him as he backs me up to the wall and pins me there with his chest to mine. His hands roam over my hips and thighs as he lifts one leg, opening me up to him, and I guide his dick to my entrance and let him sink in.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my lips with dark eyes locked on mine.
“Shut up,” I snap, then kiss him harder, biting his bottom lip.
He starts moving—hungry, hard rolls of his hips that grind deep. Every thrust rocks me against the counter and kisses me harder. I can barely breathe. The stretch is incredible, and my heart is pounding so hard.
“God, I hate you,” I gasp into his mouth.
“Yeah?” He drives in harder, gripping my ass with both hands to pull me onto him. “Then why the hell are you soaking my dick right now?”
I answer by kissing him deeper, sucking on his tongue while my nails dig into his bare shoulders. Guilt claws at my chest, but the heat between us is stronger. I hate him. I hate myself. And I still can’t stop wanting this.
Luke keeps one arm wrapped around my back, holding me tight against him while he fucks me standing. His other hand lifts my thigh higher, just enough to open me wider. The new angle makes him hit deeper with every thrust. I moan loudly into his mouth and he swallows the sound.
“God,” I whisper between kisses, but my hips are rolling to meet him.
“Mmm, fuck,” he growls, snapping his hips faster.
My fingers fist in his hair as I kiss him hungrily. The counter edge digs into my back, but all I feel is him inside me. Pleasure and resentment twist together until I can’t tell which is which.
Luke’s breathing gets rougher. His thrusts turn shorter and more aggressive. He keeps kissing me the whole time, like he refuses to let even an inch of space between us.
“Don’t stop,” I demand against his lips. “Don’t you fucking stop.” My body is so close, ready to tip over the edge into orgasm, and when I do, I know my knees will give out.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he snarls, then kisses me so hard, I taste blood.
His rhythm starts to break. He grips me tighter, hips jerking. I can feel him throbbing.
“Shit, Hannah…” he groans into my mouth.
I kiss him harder, desperate and furious, my whole body tightening around his thick dick.
The pressure inside me snaps without warning.
My orgasm crashes through me—legs shaking, vision blurring, a broken moan tearing from my throat straight into his kiss.
I clench around him in pulsing waves as pleasure rips through every inch of me.
“Fuck, yes,” Luke snarls against my lips, feeling me come undone. His hips jerk a few times then slam deep and stay there. His dick throbs hard inside me as he comes, pulsing with every rough spurt. He groans loudly and his whole body shudders against mine.
His lips are rough on mine, lingering long after the heat has faded and his dick is done throbbing.
I cling to him for balance until he lowers my leg to the ground and pulls out, then he graciously turns his back to tuck himself away and put his sweatshirt back on while I fumble with my clothing trying to make myself modest again.
What the holy hell just happened between us? One minute, I was so raging mad at him, and the next thing I know, my clothing is coming off and my body is on fire for him. It was incredible and intoxicating, and my body is humming with endorphins.
"I, uh…" I fumble, tugging my jeans back up awkwardly while he stands with his back to me zipping up. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say after that.
It should never have happened. We are completely incompatible.
Nick would be furious. And I hate myself for this.
He is responsible for Nick's death. I can't have sex with him like that.
"I did a lot of thinking, Hannah," Luke says softly, still not looking at me.
"And if the festival is really that important to you, I will do it.
For Nick… and for you," he adds even quieter, and when he finally meets my eyes again, I don't see the same man who was standing here fifteen minutes ago angrily snarling at me.
"What?" I say, straightening my sweater. I don't think I heard him right. I shake my head, offer an expression of confusion.
"Do the festival, okay? I want you to." He walks toward the door, pausing on the threshold, and looks back.
"And do me a favor and don't tell anyone you wore me down.
It's bad for my image." He winks at me, and it makes a fluttering sensation erupt in my chest and heat burn my cheeks, and when he's gone, all I can do is stand there staring at the door wondering what on God's green Earth just happened to me.
Did I really just have sex with Luke Maddox?