by Carian Cole
“Breathe, little doll,” he whispers between kisses. “I’m going to make you fly.”
He moves in and out of me slowly, making sure I feel every hard inch of him as he spreads and stretches me wider and deeper than I’ve ever been before. He’s long and thick, putting my ex to shame. Sorry, Paul. Even sorrier, Charlene.
Everything about him feels so big and powerful; he is solid muscle and has incredible control over his body and movements. Nothing about him is sloppy or awkward. And nothing about him feels twenty-four.
His hips roll in a wide circular motion, grinding his cock into me, rubbing against my clit in perfect rhythm. Sighing with pleasure, I wrap my legs around his waist and slide my hands down his body to grab his muscular ass. He kisses me more deeply, his tongue piercing banging my teeth. I open my eyes to find his dark ones staring back into mine.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he pants, leaning his forehead against mine.
“So do you,” I glide my hands up his back, damp with sweat, and grip his wide shoulders.
“You want more?”
I nod and find his lips. “Yes . . .” I purr.
He leans back, grabs my knees and spreads my legs wide, pounding into me, hard and fast.
Holy mother. I feel like he’s pummeling me into next week. He slows, tantalizing me, pulling out and using his hand to rub the head of his cock up and down my dripping lips, then slamming deep inside me again. He repeats this insanity until I’m writhing and screaming like a cat in heat. I don’t know who I am anymore, and I don’t care. All I want is him and everything he wants to give me.
He shakes his head as he drives into me, his sweaty hair flying around his head, and flashes me a sexy smile.
Reaching under me, he pulls me up until I’m on his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist, and his muscled arms around me, holding me close to him. We kiss, slower now, and his hands move down to cup my ass, lifting me up and down on his cock, grinding me against him. It feels amazing, having him buried deep inside me while he kisses me and moves me up and down on him. I hold his face in my hands as we kiss, then slide my hands to the back of his neck, my fingers gripping his hair.
Our bodies find a perfect rhythm, and soon, I feel the ecstasy building inside me. Gripping his hair harder, he moans against my mouth as I start to unravel and explode around him. He holds me and kisses me with turbulent passion, whispering things I can’t even understand, as I tremble and shake with orgasm. With a hard thrust and a growl deep in his throat, I feel him come inside me. And he’s right; I’m flying. My mind and body revel in how exquisite he feels. Everything else has disappeared. All I can feel, see, hear, and taste is Lukas.
My dark angel.
He lays me gently on my back and turns us on our sides, face-to-face, still connected, our hands slowly caressing each other’s bodies, kissing softly. I’ve never felt so physically and emotionally connected to another person. We lie kissing like this for a long time. He makes love to me again, slow and drowsy, until I am whimpering and quivering against him again, and he whispers my name over and over again as he comes inside me.
I’ve fallen so hard that my heart has a concussion.
I wake up sometime later in his arms atop his huge bed. Watching him sleep, I’m captivated by how beautiful he is. I don’t feel like me anymore, more like I’m just his. I can’t remember what it felt like to not be his. I want to kiss him, hold him, and love him until time ceases to exist, and then I want to love him some more. I don’t want him to ever feel unwanted again. The mere thought of it rips my heart to shreds.
Carefully lifting his arm off me, I climb out of the high bed and tiptoe to the bathroom connected to his bedroom, my legs and lady parts sore from all the bed romping.
I’m surprised by the size of the bathroom with a big jacuzzi tub in one corner and a glass shower in the other. I can’t believe someone as young as him lives like this, with so much luxury. He seems unphased by it, though, and not at all spoiled. I freshen up a bit and then realize my cell phone is downstairs with my coat and purse. I grab his shirt off the bedroom floor, pull it over my head, and quietly walk through the house. The glow coming in from the stained glass windows and the dim lights he has placed in various areas of the houses gives me enough light to see where I’m going.
“Hello,” Ray says when I reach the bottom of the stairs, scaring the heck out of me.
“Shh . . . go to sleep,” I whisper at him.
“I’m taking you upstairs,” he mimics in Lukas’ voice. Shit! This bird not only saw us fooling around in the hallways, he heard us.
“Ray!” I hiss. “No! Bad bird! Stop saying that!” I wonder for how long he remembers phrases, and hope he forgets it by tomorrow.
“Upstairs,” he says.
Ignoring the bird, I grab my purse and go back upstairs. Lukas is still sound asleep, the blanket covering him from the waist down. I sit on the floor next to the bed and check my cell phone. I have a text from Macy, saying she’s okay and at Shelly’s, and a missed call from Tommy. I quickly reply to Macy that I’ll see her tomorrow. I feel awful that I missed Tommy’s goodnight call and hope he’s not upset I didn’t answer—something I’ve never done before. A text comes in as I’m staring at my phone, and I’m irked to see it’s from Paul and not Macy.
Paul: Where are you?
Me: Out
Paul: Where?
Me: None of your business. Is Tommy ok?
Paul: Yes. He called and u didn’t answer.
Me: I know and I’m sorry. I’ll call him in the morning.
Paul: Are you home?
What the heck is with his interrogation? Rude.
I look around Lukas’ room while I debate answering Paul’s annoying messages. I count six different gargoyle statues watching over the bed. I’m not sure if they are cool or creepy.
Me: No
Paul: Then where are you? It’s 2am.
Me: I know what time it is. Why aren’t you enjoying the wonders of Charlene?
Paul: She’s sleeping.
Me: I’m going to do the same. I’m tired. I’ll call Tommy in the morning.
Paul: Where are you sleeping, Ivy?
Me: I’m on a date.
Paul: With who?????
Me: Fuck off
I mute his texts and stuff my phone back into my purse. Who the hell does he think he is?
As soon as I climb up on the bed, Lukas stirs and opens his eyes, squinting at me in the dim light cast from the electric fireplace.
“Ivy? You okay?”
“I was just checking my phone to see if the kids called.”
He stretches and sits up. “They okay?”
I nod and scoot closer to him. “Yeah, I missed Tommy’s call. I feel bad.”
He pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry. From now on, we’ll make sure you have your cell phone with you all the time when you’re here, and you can give them my house number. They can call here any time.”
“It’s okay. I can’t be attached to them twenty-four-seven.”
“I know . . . but I want you to be relaxed here and not worried, and I want your kids to know where you are.”
“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?”
He tugs at the hem of the shirt I’m wearing. “Take this off. I wore it on stage. It’s probably all sweaty.”
I smile but pull the shirt over my head and lay it on the floor next to the bed. “I don’t mind wearing your sweaty shirt,” I say, smiling.
“You’re staying the night, right?” he asks, rolling on top of me.
“If you want me to, then yes.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I do. I don’t want you to ever leave.”
“I can stay the night.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “That’ll do for now.”
CHAPTER 16
LUKAS
I CAN NOW SCRATCH WAKING up with the woman of my dreams off my bucket list.
She’s sleeping on her stoma
ch, hugging my pillow, one of her legs bent up. I want to spread her from behind and sink myself into her, but I don’t, because I don’t want her to think I’m just gonna fuck her all the time and nothing else. She’s so much more to me than that. But damn, that view is tempting.
Instead, I kiss her cheek, take a shower, and walk to the cafe to get us two vanilla brown sugar lattes and bagels. When I get back to the house, there’s a car in my parking lot, which is odd because it’s Sunday and we rarely see clients on Sundays. I cross the parking lot, knock on the window of the car, and the guy rolls down his window.
“Can I help you?” I ask him.
He looks from his cell phone to my house then back to me.
“Is this 26 Main?”
“It is. Do you have an appointment?” I ask, hoping Vandal didn’t set up an appointment with someone and then forget about it, which he’s done before.
“An appointment?” he repeats, confused.
“Yeah, for a tattoo?”
“No, I’m looking for Ivy.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Ivy?”
“Yeah, she’s my wife. The GPS software on our phones told me she’s here, at this address.”
This fucking guy. Fury rages up inside me. No way in hell is he gonna wreck my first weekend with Ivy.
“She’s inside sleeping,” I say.
He pales. “What? And how the hell do you know that?”
“Because she’s in my bed.”
Shock contorts his face. “Excuse me?”
“Look, man, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, but let’s set some shit straight. First, she’s not your wife anymore. You left her and moved in with your girlfriend, remember? Second, you’re on my property. My shop is closed today, and I haven’t invited you to my home, so in my eyes, you’re trespassing.”
“What the fuck is my wife doing in your bed?”
“Your wife isn’t in my bed. My girlfriend is in my bed. And now, I’m going to bring her the latte I just got for her before it gets cold. I want you out of my parking lot.”
“I want to talk to her. She didn’t answer her phone last night when our son called.”
“That’s right, because we were busy. She’s going to call him when she wakes up. And, by the way, where is Tommy right now? If it’s your weekend to be with him, shouldn’t you be with him and not stalking Ivy?”
“Fuck you, pal.”
I chew my lip ring and try to control my anger. The last thing I want is Ivy getting all upset about me and this douche-nugget having a fight.
“I’m going inside now,” I say calmly. “Get off my property. If you’re still here by the time I get inside, I’ll call the police and have them come remove you.”
I walk away from him, not giving him a chance to say anything else. I’m not happy that this guy is obviously still hung up on Ivy, and he’s not dealing with the fact that she’s moved on with someone else. Did he really think someone as pretty and sweet as her was gonna stay single, and that he could hang on to her while he went out and fucked around?
Not a chance, dude.
“Hands on the wall,” Ray squawks when I cross the living room on my way upstairs. Shit.
“Ray, you’re a pretty bird,” I say, trying to divert him back to bird-talk. I forgot he could hear us in the foyer last night, and the last thing I need is him repeating it all back to us.
“I’m a pretty bird,” he repeats.
“Yes, you are.”
“I want you,” he says, mimicking Ivy.
I glare at him in his cage. “Ray, be a pretty bird.”
He cocks his little black feathered head at me, pretending to be innocent. But I know better.
“I’m a pretty bird,” he says softly.
“Keep it up, bird brain, and you’ll end up in a salad.”
I climb the stairs and find Ivy sitting up in my bed, holding her cell phone, frowning at the screen. My stomach sinks a little. What if Paul has come to his senses and wants her back? He may be a jerk, but he’s shared eighteen years with her, and given her two kids. So far, all I’ve given her is a tattoo and a night of multiple orgasms.
“Hey,” I say, sitting on the bed. “I got us lattes and bagels.”
She smiles sleepily at me. “How did you know I was dying for a coffee?” She kisses my cheek as I hand her the latte.
“I know it’s your fav.” I nod my head at her phone. “Everything okay?”
She shoves her phone into her purse. “Yeah, I called Tommy. He’s playing Xbox, said he was alone with Charlene and that his Dad wasn’t home. Then I got a text from Paul, asking me where I was.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I was with my boyfriend and it was none of his business.”
“What did he say?” I ask, wondering if Paul is going to tell her about our altercation in my parking lot.
She shrugs and sips her coffee. “Nothing. He hasn’t replied. I don’t know what his problem is.”
“Obviously, he’s jealous, and I don’t blame him.”
“He can be jealous all he wants. He made his bed, slept with a tramp in it, and now he can stay in it.”
I let out a laugh. “Ooh, I like feisty Ivy.”
I decide to not tell her that Paul was GPSing her and stalked her right to my house. No sense in getting her upset or nervous, especially when it looks like Paul isn’t going to mention it, either. Most likely, he feels like an idiot right about now.
We sit on the floor of my bedroom in front of the fireplace and eat our breakfast, talking a little about the band and my shop. I hope her new questions are coming from interest and not doubt in me.
“What if Paul wants you back?” I finally ask, because I can’t get the thought out of my head now. He kept referring to her as his wife, and that just doesn’t sit well with me at all.
“He doesn’t. Charlene is young and gorgeous.”
I tilt my head at her, hating that she believes someone else is better than she is, just because Paul said so. “Ivy, you’re young and gorgeous, too. You’re beautiful.” I kiss her lips. “And sweet.” I kiss her again. “And smart.” I kiss her longer. “And incredible in bed.”
Her cheeks flush, and she looks down at her coffee cup. “Lukas . . . I’m not.”
I lift her chin and force her to look at me. “You’re all of those things, Ivy. Trust me.”
She shakes her head and touches my hand. “I just don’t think of myself like that.”
“I know, but I have no problem telling you, so you should keep me around.”
Her aqua eyes shimmer as she smiles at me. “I plan to keep you around.”
“What if Paul did want you back? If he knows you’re moving on, it could wake him up to see what he really had.”
She stares at the fire, thinking, and while I want her to be sure, I hate that she’s thinking about it. I mean, that’s bad, right? If she has to think about it for longer than two seconds?
“Lukas,” she finally says. “I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.”
My heart stops beating. My lungs stop breathing.
“And?” I urge, going mad in the silence.
“And I feel a very intense connection to you. I think you know that.”
“And?”
“Lukas, stop being five for a second and let me talk, okay?” she teases.
“Sorry. Talk faster.”
She grabs my hand. “I don’t want Paul back. I really like what’s happening between you and me. It’s happening faster than I thought it would . . . but I love how you make me feel. I love being around you. You make me happy.” She looks up into my eyes and smiles. “But . . .”
“There’s a but?”
She moves her fingers up to my wrist, rubbing over the scars that have been there for a long time. “This scares me, Lukas. I can’t make any guarantees right now, and I don’t ever want you to hurt yourself if things didn’t work out between us.” She swallows hard and continues to rub my wrist. “We have a
long road ahead of us, and as much as we may want it to work, we don’t know what could happen. I need to know that you’re okay, that you wouldn’t do something like this if something happened.”
I clench my jaw, hating my past and the demons that haunted me then, and sometimes still do.
She puts her latte off to the side and moves closer to me. “I really didn’t want to have this conversation this morning, after we had such a great night,” she says.
“No, it’s okay. You have a right to know what kind of head case you’re sleeping with.”
“Lukas, I do not think that at all, but this is serious. It’s a red flag.”
Ouch.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” I admit. “I was young when I did this. I was fourteen. My mother’s phone number was in some things I had packed from my great-grandmother. I carried it around with me on a little piece of paper for months before I finally got enough courage to call her. I was pretty miserable at my foster home.” I let out a sigh, and she holds my hand tighter. “Anyway, I’m not sure what I was thinking was gonna happen, but I called. When she answered, I told her who I was, and she said, ‘I don’t want you. Don’t ever call me again. I don’t want anything to do with you.’ And she hung up on me.”
“Oh my God, Lukas. I’m so sorry.”
“Anyway, I kinda lost it. I was already pretty messed up in the head, drinking a lot, and just depressed. I wasn’t sleeping, and was having a hard time adjusting to being in school after being homeschooled when I was younger—just everything. My friend Finn found me. He lived across the street and just came inside when I didn’t answer the door. He called an ambulance, and from what they tell me, I was technically dead for about two minutes.”
Ivy squeezes my hand even harder. “Lukas . . .”
“So, I ended up in the psych ward, of course, and my foster parents were pretty disappointed, to say the least. Then I was in therapy for quite a while, learning how to accept the fact that some people might not want me, but I’m not supposed to kill myself over it. I’m stronger now, Ivy. I’ll accept it if you don’t want me. I won’t try to off myself. I have the shop, and my brother, and Katie, and Gram, and the fucking bird to take care of. I’ll be fine.”
