by Stella Gray
“Oh, I definitely use it,” he says. “Let me show you how.”
He kisses me, his mouth hard and demanding, and my whole body goes hot and liquid, aching for him. I’ve never been consumed like this. Letting out a soft moan, I open my mouth wider and lose myself in the deep stroke of his tongue. His hands slip down to cup my breasts, and then he lifts me onto the table, stepping between my open legs. I brace my hands behind me for support, tilting my head back as he trails kisses down my neck, making me gasp with every little suck and nip. Then he tugs the straps of my dress down, exposing my breasts.
We’re both panting. Even though he’s stepped back to take in the view of my body, he’s already eye-fucking me. When his mouth closes over my bare nipple I cry out, arching against his tongue. I can feel my pulse between my legs, my pussy clenching with need.
I should be scared, but I’m not.
I should stop this, but I won’t.
I don’t want to.
The things he said earlier…he’s going to give me an exclusive contract. He was serious. I know he was. Luka’s the kind of man who sets his sights on something and then conquers it, so if he says he’s going to make my career, I know he means it. The way he’s making me feel right now just proves it.
I moan in encouragement as he hikes up the hem of my skirt and pulls off my G-string, letting my heels fall to the floor. He roughly pushes my thighs apart, exposing my glistening cunt to him, before catching my gaze with complete greed in his eyes. I swear my heart stops, but I don’t get time to catch my breath before he dips his head and feasts on my pussy.
Crying out, I dig my fingers into his thick hair, holding him to me as his lips suckle and his tongue laps at my clit. Jesus, this man knows what he’s doing.
“Luka,” I moan. “So good. So fucking good.”
I’m drowning in sensation as he fucks me with his mouth, licking in tight swirls and sucking my nub into his mouth, pressing his teeth against the sensitive skin there. A zing of pain is followed by the swirl of deep pleasure as he repeats this over and over, until I’m right on the edge of the fastest-building orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” I pant, trying to catch my breath.
Luka pulls my hips down until my ass is nearly hanging off the table. Then he loops my legs over his shoulders, and my thighs clench around his head as he continues to tongue-fuck me with everything he’s got. I moan louder and louder, grinding against his mouth, losing myself in the ecstasy of this. Just when I’m sure I’m about to shatter, he slips his fingers inside me, curling them against that sensitive spot just inside my walls.
I see sparks as white-hot heat radiates through me. He finger-fucks me harder, deeper, stroking his fingers against my G-spot until I’m almost crying for release, caught right at the edge. Abruptly he withdraws, and I moan in protest. Catching my eyes, he suddenly slaps my pussy, soft yet firm, the brunt of contact over my clit. I yelp in shock, then moan as the sting is followed by the headiest flow of pleasure I’ve ever experienced.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “What are you doing to me?”
“Again?” he asks.
I nod.
He does it again and I can’t look away from him. My orgasm builds, so fast, so deep.
So hard.
Slap.
Fuck. I fly over the edge, crying out my pleasure with throaty moans as I lose myself in the sensation washing over me. I’ve never had sex like this before.
God, this man lives up to every word of his reputation.
Still panting, I come back to myself. Luka has stepped back and he’s holding his hand out to me. “Are you ready for more?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice rasping.
“Then get up.” His firm voice sends a shiver down my spine. I can barely function, but I take his hand as he helps me off the table, then down the hall to his master suite.
Luka pulls my dress the rest of the way off, tossing it in a wad on the floor. I have the barest thought that it costs a lot and I should hang it over the back of a chair, but he’s unbuttoning his shirt and I can barely draw a breath. I help him, our fingers working in tandem until I peel the shirt off him. His chest is magnificent, so perfectly sculpted, his arms bound in bands of muscle that I can’t wait to feel around me.
He leads me over to the bed and I sit down and slide back as he crawls over my naked body, taking my wrists and forcing my arms above my head. He’s so dominant. I fucking love it.
“Beautiful Brooklyn. You’re a goddess.”
Any reservations I had about him melt away as he kisses me, his free hand grazing lightly up and down my body, giving me goosebumps.
Eager and needy, I try to spread my legs, but his knees block me on either side. He chuckles low as he slowly works his belt free, then the button and zipper on his pants. All I can do is stare as he gets up to remove the last of his clothes.
Jesus. Christ.
His perfect cock springs free, bobbing long and thick as he comes back to the bed. He takes himself in one hand and gives a few strokes. Without meaning to, I lick my lips. I’m not sure what’s written on my face, but Luka seems amused by it. “You like what you see?”
“Yes,” I murmur, my heart racing.
I’ve never been with anyone as big as him, but I’ve never been afraid of a challenge. He grins and climbs back onto the bed and suddenly that huge cock is over me, lowering down to my mouth until I have to take the tip between my lips. I suck softly and then harder, making him groan, opening up so he can push in farther. The velvet of his skin glides against my tongue and I take him into my mouth deeper, my jaw screaming as I push the limit and open all the way.
Luka’s breathing picks up as he begins to lightly thrust into my mouth. I suck and swirl my tongue around him. Each pump of his shaft makes me hungrier for him, until I’m aching so hard, I have to reach between my legs and cup my pussy to relieve the pressure.
“Oh, no, sweetheart. That’s all mine. You want my cock so badly you can’t wait?”
I try to nod, but he just thrusts harder, deeper, gagging me. I love it.
Finally he pulls out, rubbing his head back and forth over my wet, open mouth.
“You know what? I’m going to give that greedy pussy exactly what it wants.”
He turns away, leaving me gasping as he grabs a condom from the bedside table. He slips it on, and I barely spread my legs before he’s pressing into me with the tip of his cock. Raising my hips, I meet his slow thrust until he’s all the way inside me up to his balls, my pussy stretching deliciously from his size.
I. Can’t. Get. Enough.
“Fuck me, Luka.” I’m begging and I don’t care.
“Say please.” He smirks, starting to ease out of me.
“Please!” I say obediently. “Please, give it to me. I need you to fuck me.”
His eyes search mine, as if he needs to see the desperation there, how badly I want him.
“Please,” I whisper one more time.
“That’s a good girl.”
With that, Luka slams back into my pussy, his face a mix of pleasure and concentration as he pulls my wrists up over my head again and thrusts deep and steady, finding a rhythm. I look up at him, taking in the lust in his eyes, the parting of his lips, the flush in his cheeks, the way he groans as he pumps into me, his abs flexing with every movement. He’s not just fucking me, he’s throwing himself into this like it’s an Olympic sport.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I moan, wrapping my legs around his waist so he can thrust even deeper.
It feels like he’s splitting me open, every stroke jolting through me. My orgasm builds, but it’s different this time—it’s so deep it’s almost like it’s coming from the inside out. I want to fight it, but I can’t. I can only surrender to the sensations overtaking me.
My cries start to come faster and louder, and it must be obvious I’m about to climax because Luka suddenly rolls onto his back and pulls me on top of him, his hands on my hips, never
breaking our rhythm as he forces me to ride him.
“Come on my cock, Brooklyn,” he growls. “Let me see you come.”
I lean back and spread my thighs as wide as I can, grinding faster and faster. I’m watching him enjoying the sight of me, licking his lips as he watches my breasts bounce, as his gaze drops to the view of my split-open pussy getting pounded by his cock. I can feel him grow even harder inside me, and I close my eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over me.
The orgasm hits, taking my breath away.
“Luka, yes, yes,” I moan desperately, leaning forward over him to grab onto his shoulders for support. I’m so wet and he feels so good.
Without warning his mouth clamps over my nipple and he sucks it so hard I cry out, groaning as his thrusts go jerky and erratic.
He’s about to come, I can feel it, and I’m still not done yet. Jesus, it keeps going, wave after wave, even as his body tenses and he pulses his release into me with a final, deep groan.
I’m shuddering through the final throes as Luka gently rolls me back onto the bed, both of us looking up at the dark ceiling as we struggle to catch our breath. I must doze off, because the next time I open my eyes, he’s gone to the bathroom—I think—and it’s a while before he comes back. When he does, I’m just barely aware of him pulling the blankets up and over me.
I wake to sunlight streaming over my face.
I sit up with a start, the night before slowly returning to me. Did Luka ever come back to bed? I glance over and see the covers on his side look untouched. There’s no sign he’d slept next to me. Maybe he spent the night on the couch in some backwards show of chivalry, or maybe he’s just a light sleeper and prefers his space. Either way, there’s no note on the nightstand, and it strikes me that we’d never exchanged numbers—so he couldn’t have texted me even if he’d wanted to.
My belly flips.
Maybe he got called in to work.
Maybe he went to get us breakfast. Maybe he’s making us breakfast.
I smile, rub my hands over my face, and find the restroom, then clean up a little and get dressed. My cellphone says it’s almost nine. Shit! My parents are going to notice that I didn’t come home last night. I’m an adult, but my mom has a hard time remembering that.
Looking for my heels, I find my way back to the kitchen. The scent of fresh coffee hits me in a glorious wave. Sounds are coming from there, like someone is moving around. My heart leaps. A leisurely breakfast with Luka? Yes, please. I smooth my hair as I step into the kitchen.
“Hey, I—”
An older woman in a maid’s uniform gives me the barest glance as she wipes down the counter near the espresso machine.
I pull up short. “Oh, hello.”
She replies with a noncommittal grunt. The air seems thicker, and it’s clear how much I’m not wanted here. On top of that, my brain is starting to catch up with what my heart already knows. Nausea rises in my throat, my pulse picking up. “Um, is Luka here?”
The look the maid gives me is no-nonsense. “Let me guess. He didn’t leave a note. You don’t have his number. And you woke up alone. You’re a model, right? He offer you a contract?”
I feel myself nod slowly, dread curling in my belly.
“I shoo girls like you outta here seven days a week,” she explains.
The nausea burns now. Threatening to choke me. “Are they…always models?”
“Not always.” She shrugs. “My advice? Walk it off. If he’s interested, he’ll find you.”
Suddenly it’s like the wind just got knocked out of me, and I’m struggling for air.
“Okay,” I say, but my voice wobbles and I’m shaky on my feet.
The maid sighs, seeming to soften. “Let me pour you a coffee, hon. Have a seat there. I’ll call you a cab. You know where you’re going?”
My brow furrows.
I don’t know anything.
Except that I’m the worst kind of naïve.
Brooklyn
Chapter 4
I blink a couple times and try to clear my head, but it’s hard to forget the past when I’m staring it right in the eye.
Luka coolly rifles through the papers in front of him and glances down, writing something on a page. There was no recognition in his expression when he saw me. The best sex of my life, and the guy I’d had it with couldn’t even spare me a second look or tell me I seem familiar.
It’s like we’re meeting for the first time here, and I’m incredibly embarrassed—and angry. He’s apparently erased me from his memory. I wish I could do that so easily. Forget how I’d checked my cellphone a thousand times just in case he’d gotten hold of my number and tried to get in touch. How I’d obsessed over my social media to see if each new follower was possibly him. I wish I could forget how humiliating it was to realize—after three agonizing months—that Luka Zoric wasn’t going to call. That he probably hadn’t thought of me even once since we’d slept together.
Even still, I continued hanging on to the hope that he was eventually going to reach out to me on a strictly professional basis, give me the contract that he promised. But at the six-month mark, I had to face the facts. During the entire “audition” I’d done with him, there had been zero paperwork involved. He may have taken down my stats, but there was no contract besides the promise he’d made verbally—no request for official headshots, no exchange of contact information, nothing. The entire thing had been off the books.
He’d used the “private audition” to get laid. I’d bet anything it was his standard method of banging pretty girls.
I guess, in a twisted way, it worked out in my favor that I’d been too embarrassed to follow up with the agency about my audition and Luka’s empty promises, considering everything that’s come out about the place now. I may have been naïve, but at least I didn’t end up getting linked to the prostitution ring the elder Zoric got busted over. I’m confident that mess is behind the agency now, though, and I’m willing to give them a legitimate shot. I just need to suck up my humiliation, be a grown-up about the whole thing.
“Good morning. I’m Luka Zoric, VP of Talent Acquisition and Management,” he says. “Please, take a seat.”
His voice rings out with that gravelly, sexy edge that I remember. My body immediately comes to life. He’d seduced me with that velvet tone, whispering in my ear.
Never again.
Pulling my shoulders back, I stand straighter and project a confidence I don’t totally feel. Then I take the chair across from him and cross my legs. His eyes follow the movement before dropping back to his papers, and I can’t help looking him over while he’s not paying attention.
His dark hair is finger-combed back, lacking the slick professional style he wore before. The top few buttons of his dress shirt are undone and he’s not wearing a tie. His sleeves are rolled up, and his entire persona is far from the designer-clad socialite that I remember. He’s more relaxed today, as if he’s digging in deep to this project.
I’ll be damned if he isn’t even sexier now.
“Let’s get started. Please state your name.”
“Brooklyn Moss.” I watch him, waiting for any sign of recognition, but he doesn’t even look up. The muscles in his forearm flex as he writes on the paper and a hot pang of desire hits between my legs. How can I still want him after everything that’s happened? I press my thighs tighter together. No way in hell will he see a lick of want in my eye.
“Is this address on your resume current? Los Angeles?” he asks, glancing at it.
“I have a lease here in Chicago, actually,” I tell him, and when I give him the address in Wicker Park, he writes that down before looking up at me again.
“Ms. Moss, I need to inform you that you are required to answer each question in its entirety, or you will not be considered for this…opportunity. Do you understand and agree?”
What do I have to lose? “I do.”
That gets his attention for some reason. His head snaps up, his eyes searching mine f
or a beat before he clears his throat and looks back at the page. I realize then that he’s following a script that dictates exactly what he’s supposed to say. Odd.
“Great. Okay. Ms. Moss, have you had any recent or past health conditions which required medication or hospitalization?”
This is unusual, but thanks to the heads-up from the brunette in the waiting room, I’m not that surprised. I roll with it. “I had my tonsils out when I was twelve, my wisdom teeth out last year. I was on painkillers, but obviously it was temporary. Not currently taking any drugs, prescription or otherwise.”
“You’re currently healthy?” he prods.
“As a horse. Do you need me to fax over the results of my last yearly physical?”
He glances up, and the brief moment of eye contact makes my pulse ratchet up another notch. “Ah, that won’t be necessary.”
He seems tense, or maybe just a little embarrassed about all these questions, and it’s hard not to smirk at the effect I’m clearly having on him with my attitude. Serves him right.
“Would you say you follow a healthy dietary and exercise regimen?” he goes on.
I shrug. “I work out most days, take classes with friends. Cardio, cycling, kickboxing. So yeah. I’m mostly vegetarian, but I never turn down bacon. Or dessert. You only live once.”
The corners of his mouth turn up, but he seems to hold back from actually smiling as he scribbles a few things down. I can’t help wishing he’d look at me, like full-on look at me. I want him to remember who I am. I’d love to see the discomfort on his face when he remembers I’m the girl he fucked and ghosted all those years ago. Well, one of them.
“Are you involved in any charities, philanthropy, or other charitable work? Clubs, missionary work, volunteering programs?”
I smile. “Not sure missionary is my thing, to be honest.”
He clears his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind just answering.”
I’m kind of loving this, but I cut him a break.
“Actually, I’ve been part of Heart and Home Chicago since high school, and even though I’ve been in LA for a few years, I’m still active on the committee. We raise funds for area homeless shelters to provide maintenance, expansion, help with the food budget, that kind of thing.”
