by Eden Summers
I can’t imagine wanting anything else. For a moment, I’m so caught up in needing to be closer that I wonder if this was what it was like for Luther all along.
Did he crave me this way?
Was his desire for me as uncontrollable as mine for Luca?
Did his heart pound and throat tighten? Did his palms sweat and limbs shake? Is that why he stole me—because he was compelled?
“Don’t go back there,” Luca murmurs against my skin. “Stay with me.”
I lick my lips, trying to wipe away the dryness. “I’m trying.”
“What’s stopping you?” He pauses the gentle kisses and pulls back an inch.
“Oh, God. I’m beginning to second guess if this is natural. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”
His eyes narrow. “Whatever you feel is natural. If you want to keep going. If you want to stop. Even if you change your mind every five seconds. It’s all normal.”
He’s right. It’s natural. I guess I asked the wrong question. “What I meant is, is this healthy? Do I want you like this because I’m sick?”
He doesn’t speak for long moments, the silence making my pulse beat faster. Is he about to give evidence to my growing instability?
Those lips press back against my inner thigh, his gaze remaining locked on mine as he says, “I wondered the same thing after what happened last night. But you said it yourself—this is nothing like what you experienced. It’s the exact opposite. And after everything you’ve been through, I can’t think of anything that’s healthier, or that shows more strength, or trust, or more commitment to healing, than a woman wanting to gain pleasure from a man who adores her.”
An ache builds behind my sternum. There’s so much pain.
Good pain.
Restorative pain.
I drag in a breath, filling my lungs to capacity. “I love you, Luc.”
His eyes flare, shock bleeding across his features before he bows his head into my legs, not saying a word.
“Luca?” The agony builds. “I’m sorry, I…”
“Don’t be sorry.” He raises his face again, staring back at me with ferocity. “You know I love you, too, shorty. I’d fucking kill for you.”
“You already have.”
He inclines his head. “And I’d do it again. Every single day for the rest of my fucking life. Without pause or doubt.”
I burn—eyes, throat, heart. The heat overwhelms me, leaving beautifully wistful memories to soothe my scars.
“Now spread those thighs,” he demands. “I want to make you feel good.”
24
Luca
The scent of her drugs me.
The heat of her consumes me.
But those eyes… those fucking eyes enslave me, leaving me powerless.
Everything inside me screams to dive farther between her legs, to lunge forward and take what’s readily offered. Instead, I battle temptation, moving agonizingly slowly, my stubble grazing her inner thighs.
Each inch of devoured space intoxicates me more. Makes me burn. Pushes my restraint further.
All I want is to sate my need. But more importantly, I want to feed hers.
I stop a breath away from her pussy and close my eyes against the allure.
My mouth waters at her scent—sweet soap and heavy arousal. I can already taste her; the juices make my tongue swell in anticipation.
But still, I don’t take.
I withstand the temptation. Teasing myself. Testing.
I need to know the mindlessness she inspires can be tamed because I won’t hurt her. Not like this. Not ever. If I did, I’d—
“Luca,” she begs. “I can’t take the anticipation any longer.” She shudders with an inhale. “I feel like there’s a constant stream of electricity coursing through me… I’m trembling.”
“Tell me what you need.”
She whimpers. “I have no clue. This is new to me. But I trust you to know what you’re doing.”
I’ve got no fucking idea. Not with her. Not with someone I’m petrified of hurting.
Yet the compulsion to provide and protect latches its claws deep. I won’t leave her wanting.
I nestle farther between her legs, placing my mouth right before her core.
Her breath catches with every inhale. Her tongue snakes out to nervously swipe her lower lip.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
There’s never been a prettier sight.
“Don’t keep anything from me,” I demand. “Not your fear or your pain. At the first sign of hesitation, you make sure you tell me to stop.”
“I will.”
I bridge the space to her pussy, my hands digging into her thighs. I never quit watching her as I take my first taste, the slick heat of her arousal coating my tongue.
She gasps. Jolts.
Her surprise fucking moves me. Soul deep.
I lick again and again, slow strokes, tender touches, until those jolts lessen and she settles into the sensation, her hands finding my hair.
At first, she’s hesitant. Gentle touches. Gliding fingers.
But I need more. I want her to share this obsession. This compulsion.
I delve deeper. Lashing her pussy with longer swipes and teasing flicks against her clit.
The jolts return with each new movement, and it takes too fucking long to realize it must be because the sensations are foreign. She’s never had this. Never had a man pay homage to her perfection.
The insight makes me work harder to please her.
I suck her clit, earning a throaty moan and a tightening of those gorgeous thighs around my head.
My dick pulses with need. From base to tip. Balls included.
I fucking throb for her, the urgency making me mindless. The torture of my headache is the saving grace stopping me from blowing my load in the towel.
I yank her closer to me, holding her on the edge of the vanity, her heels coming to rest against my back as one of her hands grips the counter. It’s the perfect view, the landscape before me filled with smooth waist and perky tits covered under the thin layer of her shirt.
She doesn’t quit watching as I devour her, nuzzling against her pubic bone, lashing her with harder strokes.
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, her brows furrow, and that breathing, fuck, her breathing is so short and sharp I ache to claim her mouth.
“Come up here,” she pants. “I want you.”
No. I’m not fucking her.
The last thing she deserves is some pussy-starved, threadbare man rutting into her.
“Please, Luca.”
I hold tighter to her thighs, lapping, sucking.
She whimpers. Wiggles. “Please.”
I don’t listen. I keep devouring, every last drop of arousal sliding down the back of my throat.
“Luca, stop,” she begs.
I freeze, instantly, and lean back on my haunches. “You okay?”
She nods, straightens, then reaches forward to grab my jaw, guiding me to stand with such exquisite confidence. “Drop the towel.”
“Penny, we’re not—”
“Please, Luc, just drop the towel.”
I growl. “We’re not having sex.”
“I didn’t ask for sex.” She blinks up at me, all innocent and meek. “I only want to see you.”
I’ll give her anything she asks for when she looks at me that way. My towel. My sanity. My life. I tug at the material around my waist and release it to fall to the floor. But she doesn’t take what she requested. It’s the same as when I was in the shower; her gaze doesn’t lower.
“What is it?” My dick remains hard, not bothered by her lack of attention. “What’s wrong?”
She stares at my chest, her breathing remaining heavy. “I’m nervous. I’ve never seen a man naked without feeling threatened.”
I tense. “And do you feel threatened now?”
“No.”
“Then look at me.”
Her brow furrows, those dark eyes wi
ncing.
“Shorty, just because I’m hard doesn’t mean I’ll ever take something that isn’t offered. You never need to feel vulnerable around me.”
The wince deepens, her struggle intensifying. “I know.”
“Then look.”
She nods, her brows pinched as she lowers her gaze from my chest, to my gut, slowly descending all the way to the apex of my thighs.
I’ve never been self-conscious a day in my fucking life. Not about my body or my dick. But she makes me doubt my worth. I’m not good enough for her—never have been—and that’s more apparent than ever as her innocent eyes survey my junk.
For long moments she remains quiet, her attention taking me in. “I never thought I’d find that part of a man tempting.” She swallows. “It’s funny how you always have a way of surprising me.”
I don’t know if it’s pride, arrogance, or fucking relief filling my chest. Maybe it’s a mix of all three that make me stand taller.
She returns her gaze to mine, raises her hand to lick her palm, then grasps my dick without a word.
I hiss with the brutally tempting restriction, the pleasure engulfing me. “Jesus.”
“You’ll never hurt me,” she states as fact.
I nod. “I’ll never hurt you.”
She strokes my length, the smooth slide of skin gliding up and down my shaft.
I grind my teeth against the thrill… the consuming need for release… She feels so fucking good. “Can I touch you?”
She drags her teeth over her lower lip, still stroking, still tormenting. “Always.”
I slam my mouth against hers, shoving a hand into her hair.
I rock my hips with her strokes, hungry for more as I lower my free hand between her thighs to penetrate her dripping pussy with two fingers. Her core clamps around me, soaking my palm as she grinds into the touch, her grip lethally tightening around my cock.
“Jesus. Fuck.” I kiss her harder, faster, eating up her moans and needy whimpers.
I can’t get enough. Not in taste or touch or sound. The pain in my head lessens, the agony meaningless when pitted against her perfection.
I want more. So much fucking more that I become mindless with need.
I twist my fingers inside her, flick her clit with my thumb. The pace of her stroke quickens, her attention remaining at the sensitive head of my shaft.
“Penny,” I growl into her mouth. “I’m close.”
She bites my lip. Bats those sultry lashes. Grinds harder.
I can’t hold back.
I fucking come, my seed pulsing from me in waves to lash her thigh as I groan my pleasure. Over and over, the rivulets of milky liquid mark her skin.
I buck. I growl. I kiss.
And when I’m finally done, I fall to my knees, spread her legs, and this time, I fucking dive for her pussy.
I lick and lap and suck. I flick and graze and bite.
I add my finger to the mix, penetrating her slit and teasing her ass until those bated breaths become panted entreaties.
When we’re like this it’s hard to remember where she’s come from. It’s almost impossible to contemplate what she’s been through.
Penny isn’t damaged when she’s lost in pleasure. There’s no sadness or scarring. There’s nothing but beautiful vibrancy, and I’m so fucking greedy for more.
Her fingers return to my hair, this time tearing, tugging, making my dick twitch all over again.
“Luca.” She pulls harder. “Luca.”
She rips the shit out of my scalp and I grin as her walls spasm around my fingers.
I keep sucking. Keep licking.
I don’t stop as she trembles around me, crying my name while she comes.
It isn’t until her fingers lose their grip and she quits quivering that I pull back, falling onto my ass to stare up at her with pride.
I’m entirely spent. Physically. Emotionally.
She siphoned me of strength, but something else has taken its place. Something committed and lifelong.
This woman is everything. My priority. My goal. My future.
I don’t want to be without her. Not for a week, or a day, or a minute.
She’s mine. And not in the way she’s used to. There will be no unwilling possession, because I’m equally hers for as long as she’ll have me.
“Let’s get you washed up.” I push to my feet and grab her hand, helping her from the vanity to lead her to the shower.
She’s quiet beside me as I turn on the water, and I hope that means she’s peacefully content. I could watch her like this forever—her face flushed, eyes bright as she stares blindly ahead.
I smirk. “Need help taking off your shirt?”
The corners of her mouth rise with the hint of a smile. “No, I can do it on my own.”
She reaches for the hem, and I do the same, my fingers brushing hers. We drag the material above her stomach, over her shoulders.
I’m hard again by the time I drop the shirt to the tile. Any man would be.
She’s breathtaking. Mouthwatering.
I can’t stop dragging my gaze over her, the lush curves of her hips, the smooth stomach, the perfect breasts. But the pièce de résistance is my seed sliding down her thigh.
“Like what you see?” she drawls.
“Without a doubt.”
She lets out a breathy chuckle, the sound heaven to my ears.
I want this more often. The laughter and smiles. The subtle happiness that increases her beauty tenfold.
I lead her into the shower and close the door behind us. She moves under the water first and tugs me along with her, her arms raised between our chests, her head resting on my shoulder.
We stand in silence.
In contentment.
I kiss her forehead. Her cheek.
I can’t stop pressing my lips to her delicate skin, tasting the salt, drowning in the warmth while she remains snuggled into me.
“You’re quiet.” I place my mouth on her temple and force my libido to tap the brakes.
“I’m happy.”
I return my lips to her forehead, holding them there for long moments. “You sure?”
Despite being on cloud nine, I know this can’t be easy for her.
“I think so. It’s hard to explain.”
I hold her tighter. “Try.”
She’s quiet for a while as she peppers slow kisses against my neck. “My stomach is giddy. It’s all fluttery and warm.” Her arms snake down to her sides, then wrap around my waist. “Good sensations have been foreign to me for so long that there’s a sense of guilt that comes with them. Or maybe it’s not guilt. Maybe it’s the fear of this all being taken away.”
“It won’t get taken.”
She sucks in a long breath and releases it slowly. “You can’t know for certain. Nobody can predict what will happen tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. So there’s this giddy, tingling part of me that I love, then there’s this nagging, opposing side that chooses to be a constant reminder of how quickly life can change for the worse.”
I get it.
I know she doesn’t think I do, but I lived my entire early childhood in that zone. Every time I caught my parents laughing or smiling, the childish optimism in me would think they’d finally figured out how to be happy without causing pain.
It never stuck though.
And I can’t oppose her way of thinking when I still have bad news to tell her. I’m worried I’ll lose her trust and break her heart with the information of another attack. Then if she finds out I involved Tobias… fuck.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe this will all be taken away, but she’ll be the one doing the taking.
I tighten my hold on her, my migraine returning with the fear. “I’ll always protect you. I promise I’ll never stop.”
“I know.” She pulls back to look up at me with heart melting eyes. “But who will protect you?”
25
Penny
I wake to the sound of the n
eighbor’s dog barking incessantly, the slight glow seeping around the curtains announcing early morning.
The house is quiet. No voices. No kiddie giggles.
There are only me and the memories of last night to make me smile. I roll onto my side and stare at the man sleeping peacefully next to me. I’d fallen into slumber with his arms wrapped around my middle, his chest warm against my back.
I can’t remember succumbing to pleasant dreams so easily.
There’d been no fear. No panic.
Only a building sense of hope with the protective embrace.
My love for him is scary. I think it’s always been there, in the security and trust, but now it’s also in the flutter of my stomach and the tightness of my throat whenever I look at him.
It carries through every inch of my body.
A rhythmic pop, pop, pop startles me, the familiar muted gunfire stealing a bite of my happiness. I slump back into the mattress. Sebastian must have headed straight for the shooting range as soon as he woke up.
I hate that he despises the man I adore. It makes me sick thinking of his anger.
I want to fix it.
Fix them.
If I’m going to reclaim my life, I need them both. No aggression. No threats. Just support and guidance.
I may have very little control over anything else right now, but I can make Sebastian listen to me. All I need is to be strong enough to face him, and I think Luca has already ensured I am.
I slowly inch from the bed and tiptoe to the dresser to pull on the pants and oversized sweater I left there the night before.
“Where are you going?” Luca grumbles, his face plastered into the pillow.
“I can’t sleep with that dog barking. I’m going to get coffee.”
He groans. “Do you want me to come with you?”
My heart swells as I bridge the space between us to place a kiss on his unmarred cheek. “Thank you. But I’m okay.”
He grabs my hand and squeezes. “I’ll be up soon.”
“Don’t. You need the rest.” I reluctantly walk for the hall to head toward the continued gunfire at the other end of the house.
I drag my bare feet past the empty living area, then farther along the far hall, not stopping until I reach the door where the muted pops escape from.
