Don't Let Me Go

by Rin Daniels

  Her heart clenched.

  With trembling fingers, she undid the buttons on her shirt. The cool air slipped beneath the fabric as she exposed inch by inch, until she shrugged out of her blouse entirely. It slipped from her hands, pooled around her feet. Black against purple.

  Coral lace on sun-kissed flesh.

  Turn around, she silently urged. A shudder gripped her spine.

  She braced her shoulders against it.

  Lifted her chin.

  “I’m pretty,” she acknowledged, every husky word trembling. “Damn right I’m a woman.” She reached around her neck, draw her loose waves over her bare shoulder. “So see me like one.”

  He bent his head. The fringe of dark hair peeking out from under his bandana clung to his nape. His skin was darkened by hours out in the sun. She wanted to kiss that skin. Run her fingers through his hair.

  She wanted to see his eyes light up when he came.

  For her. With her.

  “Turn around, Lucas.” Her voice fragmented on a whisper.

  “Come on, Nadine.” A rough sound.

  A plea.

  “Turn around,” she challenged, “and tell me to my face you don’t want me.”

  “Woody.”

  The nickname, accusation and anger on his tongue, fractured what was left of her patience. She took a step forward. “If you hate me, tell me.”

  Lucas all but vibrated in place, the muscles in his arms taut with strain. “You don’t,” he managed through his teeth, “want me.”

  God, how little he knew. “Yes,” she shot back. “I do.”

  “It’s a phase.”

  “Then it’s a seven year phase.” One hand flattened over her stomach. Pressed against the nerves turning rapidly to nausea as he refused to look at her. “It’s going to be a long damn phase.”

  “Find someone better,” he growled.

  What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  She didn’t think. Didn’t stop to question the impulse that had her picking up the bottle. She flung it at the wall beside him. The plaster exploded in fragments of white dust, but the glass miraculously held. It thunked to the linoleum, rolled to Lucas’s feet and poured out a froth of beer around his sneakers.

  Everything went still. Even her heart stopped. For a moment, only the fizz of beer fractured the silence.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SLOWLY, LUCAS TURNED.

  As if pulled by magnets, his eyes pinned to the coral lace cupping her breasts. His jaw, already taut with strain, hardened until she wasn’t sure his teeth could handle the pressure.

  Nadine took a slow, deep breath.

  It lifted her breasts. Thrust them out in a way she knew he noticed.

  If playing dirty was the only way to get him to play at all, she’d take that strike.

  “Stop,” she whispered, trembling. “Stop being so fucking noble.”

  “Jesus,” he rasped, an exhale that sounded like it got caught along the way. “You have no idea.”

  But she wanted to. Maybe there was something to be said for makeup sex. All the anger, all the frustration, simmered to something hotter, something hungrier. An ache different from the one she’d nursed late at night with all her fantasies.

  Her fingers eased to the button on her jeans.

  “Oh, God,” Lucas groaned, closing his eyes. They popped open just as fast, gaze pinning hers with an intensity she’d only dreamed about. “Why?” The same question she’d asked him, but far more desperate.

  Workout pants were made to be light, to stay out of the way of the wearer. They weren’t made to lock down the shape of a hard-on, and the fact she could tell exactly how much Lucas liked that coral lace just made everything better.

  Her lips curved up. Her fingers slid into the waistband of her jeans. A casual gesture that only pointed to the throbbing juncture between her thighs, damp against matching lace.

  Muscles in his arm flexed, like he curled his fist behind him.

  “Because I want you,” she said. No lies. No games. “I dream about your cock inside me, Lucas.”

  Color stained the taut planes of his face. He swallowed hard enough that his throat jumped. “Why me?”

  “Because it’s you.” Slowly, she worked the button free. Eased her zipper down.

  A swatch of matching coral slipped into view.

  “Because I touch myself at night thinking of you,” she said, every husky word scored by the need she couldn’t hide anymore. He was so close. Close to her skin, close that precipice.

  His breath came faster.

  “Because,” she added as she eased the denim over one hip, revealing more of the French cut panties, “if it isn’t you, I can’t—”

  “Fuck,” Lucas groaned, a harsh sound as he cleared the space between them. Her heart leapt into her throat, her insides clenched so hard she felt the shock from forehead to heels as he closed hard hands over her sides and picked her up like she weighed nothing. Her shoes fell off her feet to clatter to the floor. Her hands clutched at his shoulders; her senses thrilled at the feel of his skin beneath her palms, at the muscles flexed against her fingers.

  The counter creaked a little as he set her down on top of it, but the old fixture held. Before she could figure out how to get her jeans off, Lucas pushed his way between her knees, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, and pinned her in place.

  The counter was the perfect height. As she wrapped one leg around his waist, earning a flare of his nostrils and a sharp breath, it let him fit the hard ridge of his cock against the center seam of her jeans. Right where her body wanted it.

  Nadine shuddered from the force of her body’s response. That electricity she felt when she touched him turned into scalding waves of need, of desperation.

  A thousand times better than silicon and batteries, and he hadn’t even taken her pants off yet.

  Her low moan jostled something loose in Lucas’s eyes. In his control.

  As his thumbs eased up on her ribs, slipped over the soft flesh cradled by the cups of her bra—as she trembled in fierce anticipation—he ordered, “Kiss me.”

  A desperate rasp.

  A challenge.

  Finally. Nadine arched into his hands, tightened her leg around his waist to hold him against her and tipped her head to touch her lips to his. They were dry and a little firmer than she expected. Warm. His breath shuddered out, mingled with her own as she closed her eyes and touched her tongue to the corner of his mouth.

  His lips softened, opened against hers. Without warning, his thumb rasped over her nipple. The sensitized point sent waves of pleasure through her, and as she gasped, his tongue slipped between her lips to taste her—to claim her, body, breath and soul.

  Deep, wet, shatteringly thorough, he kissed her like he’d been waiting his whole life for the opportunity. His groan filled his chest, and as sparks popped behind her eyelids, as the nerves linking her nipple to every other part of her lit up like the Fourth of July, he filled her senses with him.

  His smell, musky and sweaty and so very much him. His taste, a little like the beer he’d drank, a little like what she’d imagined forbidden fruit would taste like. Intoxicating.

  The sound of his groan in his chest ramped her up higher, until the pressure in her body bloomed into a wanting so desperate, she couldn’t think anymore.

  She caught at the tank top over his sides, crumpling the fabric in her fingers as she strained to get more. In answer, he tightened his hold on her hips and pulled her hard against his cock. Tipped them both back so her shoulders met the cabinets and his erection dragged over her again.

  Nadine cried out against his mouth.

  He licked away the sound, a low growl his heady answer.

  She’d never considered anywhere but a bed in her fantasies. Maybe a car, for a little dirty exhibitionist flair. Definitely not a kitchen, with the side door left open and a bottle of spilled beer puddling on the linoleum.

  And she didn’t care.

  Luc
as’s fingers curled over the waistband of her jeans, taking advantage of her tilted position to strip the denim down her legs. It forced him to step back, tearing his mouth from hers—away from her body—but it was all she could do to reach over her shoulder with one hand and hang on to the underside of the cabinet before he wrenched her completely off the counter in his haste.

  His hands shook as he bared her legs. Bared the French cut panties stretched over her hips. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. A harsh prayer.

  An accusation.

  Nadine spread her thighs.

  His eyes went supernova. “Tell me I won’t be a regret.”

  She slipped two fingers down the front of her panties. She sucked in a short little breath as her clit tightened beneath her fingertips. “You won’t,” she managed. “I’ll never.”

  He made no move to reach for her.

  For a moment, Nadine’s confidence quailed. Her hand faltered.

  “Don’t stop.” A low, raw order. Lucas’s eyes fixed on her open thighs, his hands opened and closed in reflexive fists as he watched her touch herself.

  Stroke herself.

  Nadine’s fingers dug a little harder against the lace covering her waxed flesh. A little extra something for him, and even more for her.

  Kat swore it made all the difference.

  Nadine was so freaking eager to find out.

  Her hips tilted into her own hand. Her gasp turned into a squeak as a shaft of pleasure splintered through her. She was so much more turned on than in her fantasies. So much aware of Lucas’s stare as he watched her. Hungered for her.

  It was written all over his face.

  How long? How long had he wanted her and never said a word?

  Her index finger rolled the bead of her clit, pressed hard. Her head tipped back against the counter.

  “Good,” he groaned. He caught her knee in one hand, covered the skin just above it with his palm. It was rough, like she’d always known—working man’s hands against her smooth skin. Ripples shuddered through her. “More.” His work-scarred palm slid up her thigh. “Give me more, Nadine.”

  She couldn’t decide which caught her attention more—her own fingers as she rubbed at her swollen flesh or the way his hands slowly, achingly slowly, edged closer to the line of coral lace.

  She exhaled on a gasping please.

  “Touch your bare skin,” he whispered roughly. “For me.”

  She’d do anything if it would ease the mounting pressure built within her—the current of her need as it jumped and tightened inside her sex. Clinging to the cabinet behind her, bare feet braced against the cabinet doors built into the counter beneath her, Nadine eased her fingers from the lace stretched tight over aching flesh.

  Only to hiss out a long breath as she slipped her fingertips into her panties and plucked at her clit, circled her bare flesh.

  “Yes,” Lucas encouraged, voice hoarse. He bent, replacing the rough feel of his hands with the rasp of his five o’clock shadow, the hot press of his mouth against her inner thigh. His breath slipped over her skin.

  Mingled with the wet fluid of her arousal against her fingers.

  “Oh!” The cry escaped her, as much wonder as shock.

  He hooked an arm under her left leg, eased her knee up. It forced her even farther back, forced her to remove her hand from her underwear and grab the counter edge for balance. But he didn’t let her slide, didn’t let her fall. Settling between her thighs, Lucas rolled his gaze up to hers. Pinned there as he pulled the lace aside, skipping any delicate intro to oral and going right for the full service package.

  His mouth closed over her flesh and Nadine’s head fell back on her shoulders. “Oh,” she managed again, a breathy whisper. And then his tongue delved into the folds of her flesh. “God.” He dragged his tongue up the cleft of her body, rubbed over her to press against her clit, and she barely managed to breathe as sensation swept her away.

  It was everything she’d hoped and more.

  Lucas lapped at her flesh, closed his lips around her clit, tugged gently to send shimmering sparks of near-pain through her over-clocked system, and Nadine could only pant, one hand clenching in the back of his hair. It dislodged his bandana, but she didn’t care. He didn’t stop to care. Thoroughly, determined, he trapped her hips between his hands and held her still as he tortured her, licked at her, tasted her so thoroughly that she forgot all about the discomfort of the counter she lay half-sprawled on, the chill of the air on her overheated flesh.

  Forgot everything but the reality of Lucas Bourdin’s mouth on her.

  He let go of her with one hand. She wasn’t prepared for him to slip that hand between her legs as he licked and sucked at her, wasn’t ready for the way her body clamped around the two fingers he barely eased into her. It was all it took. Just a touch around the overly sensitized ring of flesh, his tongue against her clit, and her orgasm shattered what was left of her awareness.

  She heard her own voice as it chanted, “Ohmigod, ohmigod.” Heard him groan his approval as she squeezed her eyes shut.

  Felt nothing but pure, wild, unmitigated release—the kind of orgasm they always talked about in movies but she’d never managed on her own. Not this kind.

  Not this intense.

  And when he stepped again between her legs, shaking as she floated in shock and adrenaline, Nadine had just enough presence of mind to mutter, “Jeans.”

  She should have known he’d have it covered. “Already got it.” He must have seen the condoms she’d shoved in her back pocket when he’d peeled the tight denim off her. He bent over her, braced to hold her, and smoothed her hair back from her sweat-damp face. “You okay?”

  “Oh,” she managed.

  His chuckle filled her with a warmth entirely different.

  It lingered as his arms braced against the counter on either side of her, as his chest loomed over her. Nadine slipped her hands under his shirt, thrilling when his skin pulled taut beneath her searching fingers. His breath hissed.

  His cock bobbed between them, sheathed in the condom—ribbed for her pleasure, in theory, but she really didn’t think it’d be a problem. Given the hungry way her legs opened for him, she wasn’t sure anything would be enough to fill her need—to satiate the aching hunger that had only dulled with her orgasm. It hadn’t gone away.

  Lucas’s hand slipped into her hair, cradled the back of her head. “Last chance,” he said. His voice was strained. His eyes serious as he searched her gaze, her face.

  She shook her head, tugging at his shirt. A faint, helpless line pulled at his mouth as he let her pull it over his head. It caught on his arm when he wouldn’t let go of her hair to pull it all the way off.

  Dimples flashed beside the corners of his mouth as her eyes widened. “Oh,” she said again, somehow managing to convey exactly what kind of lust gripped her. His pecs went tight—a deliberate move, she realized. A way to draw her attention to his mouth-watering physique.

  It worked. Her mouth went dry.

  “Yes, please,” she whispered.

  His hand fisted in her hair. The other dropped to his cock, curled around it to pump once, twice.

  She was going to melt into a puddle of her own wicked lust.

  In revenge, she slipped her hand between them. Curled her fingers delicately around the head of his cock, squeeze gently.

  He tipped his head up, cords in his neck gone tight. “Chance over,” he growled, and guided himself to her so wet flesh. Her body pulsed in answer, tightened that sensitivity inside her until she felt poised on her own precipice. Nerves, longing, pure, unadulterated sin given flesh.

  “Yes.” She caught the back of his head, dragged him close to seize his mouth in a kiss that was all she could do to convey how much she wanted him.

  How much she wanted this.

  The head of his erection dragged across her swollen flesh. In reflex, the leg he held in the crook of his arm lifted, opened her wider. “Lucas,” she breathed.

  H
is hips jerked. His cock plunged into her body, scored through the still sensitive ring of muscle and wet flesh. A flash of pleasure twanged with the brief, minimal burn of muscles unused to the invasion. A snap of pain lanced through her, small but different enough that she couldn’t help the way she cringed in reaction.

  Lucas sucked in a breath. His body went still, one arm locked against the cabinet by her head, the other hand still tight in her hair. A raw sound strangled in his chest.

  His gaze burned into hers, shattered control and sudden realization caught in a violent conflagration.

  He knew.

  He wasn’t supposed to know. She’d done her research. She’d checked online. Kat had said the pain would be super short, maybe not even noticeable at all. Nadine could already feel her muscles adjusting around the invasion of his cock. It twitched, pulsed inside her sex. Any pain was already gone. She’d barely noticed.

  A little bit of torn flesh shouldn’t have mattered.

  Gasping for air, Nadine met that accusing stare. “Um.” She managed a crooked smile. “Mazel tov?”

  * * *

  He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be furious.

  He tried.

  But all Lucas could think about—all he could feel—was the way her body clamped around his dick, the way her hips twitched against his. Her blue eyes, hazy with arousal, stared into his with such trust, such fucking humor, that he couldn’t stop himself from drowning.

  Again.

  His thighs burned from the strain of holding himself still, but he didn’t dare move. “Are you…” He had to swallow when his dry throat burned. It was all he could do to keep himself from withdrawing, from thrusting again into the flesh he’d sworn he’d never taste. Never know.

  Jesus, he knew it now.

  And he was the first.

  He was such an asshole. The anger he nursed didn’t come from the fact she’d wasted herself on him. That would hit him later, he knew it. Right now, all he could do was seethe at his own ignorance, at his lack of care and control.

  He should have made this easier on her.