by Nicole Fox
My shaky fingers find the buttons of his shirt and start undoing them one by one. Luka rips the silk tie of the robe out of the loops, throws it to the floor. and slips his hands under the flaps. He bends slightly to start at my knee and massage his way up my thigh, beneath the hem of my slip, and over the lace side panels of my panties to my hips. I feel fragile in his hands, and even more so when he lifts me with minimal effort and plops me on the edge of the island. I open my legs immediately, welcoming him between them, and he fits perfectly. I hook my ankles behind his lower back, drawing him even closer to me until I can feel his excitement against my thigh. I roll my body over him, and he groans.
Our mouths are sloppy, sliding over one another too fast, too wet, too hungry, but it feels good. I suck his top lip into my mouth and bite his lower, nibbling at him as if I want to actually consume him. Luka slides his hands up my sides, following the curve of my hips up to my waist and higher until his thumbs brush across the undersides of my breasts. I don’t have a bra on, so his palms roll over the peaked skin of my nipple, sending shocks of electricity through me. I jolt with each roll of his palms and tip my head back, a low moan slipping from my lips.
Luka’s lips find my throat, licking and sucking the skin from my ear to my collarbone and back again like he is trying to claim every inch. I hook my ankles tighter around him and lean back until I can feel his length against me. He freezes as I work my body up and back down him, a primal growl rumbling in his chest.
His fingers trail down my ribs and over the dip of my stomach until his thumb hooks under the delicate material of my panties. He pulls away from me just enough for his thumb to slip between us, drawing intimate circles over my most sensitive area. I cry out with the first swipe and grow more delirious with each circle that follows. My body feels liquid, and the only reason I’m able to keep from melting off the island is because I’m wrapped around Luka so thoroughly. But I need more of him. More of his skin. As his thumb works my body into a flame, I undo the last few buttons and push his sleeves from his shoulders.
He is more beautiful than I imagined. His body is tanned and broad, his chest rippling with muscles. I want to lick every inch of him, memorizing him like a topography map so I can know every crest and valley of his body. Before I can, however, Luka grabs my arms from around his neck, swipes an arm behind me to clear the island, sending expensive bottles of liquor crashing to the floor, and pushes me back on the cold marble. The countertop is a biting cold against my flushed skin, but then Luka is lifting up my slip and pulling down my panties, and I can’t care about anything else. He brushes aside the delicate lace of my underwear and looks into my eyes with a wicked flash before his lips press a kiss to my center.
I fist his hair and buck my hips against his mouth, unable to do anything else. His tongue laps me up, and I am powerless, unable to move or speak or plead or thank him. I just writhe beneath the pleasure, a human stripped to her barest, basest instincts.
As the crescendo rises inside of me, the swell reaching its breaking point, I roll my body against his lips and clamp my knees around his broad chest. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, flooding every feeling and thought until I’m a puddle of warmth and happiness on the island. Luka steps back to look down at me, and I don’t even notice. My body is still trembling with aftershocks when he kisses a line up my stomach, pulls my slip down over my body, and picks me up from the island.
I wrap my legs around his hips, curl my fingers in his hair, and look into his green eyes. Before, they were stormy and crazed, but now there is a calmness there I’ve never seen before. His eyes are dark with need, which I can feel pressing against me from between his legs, but they aren’t violent like an animal before the hunt. They are filled with a primal desire that I know he plans to satisfy.
He carries me into his bedroom. I don’t see the room because my eyes are closed, and I’m kissing him, but I smell his cedar and bourbon scent thick in the air. When he lays me back on his plush bed, the smell wafts up around us like pheromones, and I feel the chemicals calling to something innate inside of me. I sit up and unbutton his pants.
Luka watches as I slide the material down his muscular thighs. As he kicks them off, I grab the hem of my slip and pull it over my head. In an instant, I’m bared in front of him. His pupils blow wide as he takes my body in. He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he pushes his own briefs down and steps out of them. As soon as he is naked, I put my hands on his hips and pull him towards me.
I try to keep my eyes on his, but I can’t stop looking at him. The size of him. Chiara would die if she knew the truth: that Luka is the biggest man I’ve ever been with. He must see the mixture of lust and worry in my eyes because he crawls over me, pushing me back on the bed, and whispers against my lips, “I’ll take care of you.”
A shiver works down my spine, and I claw my fingers down his shoulder blades, feeling every muscle of his toned back, and begin to tug him into me. I want him. Now. All of him.
He kisses my cheek and then pulls away. I almost whine with impatience before I realize he is opening his bedside drawer. He tears the foil package open with his teeth and rolls the condom on expertly with one hand. Then, his mouth is over mine again, and I’m lost to his kisses.
Since our kiss on the couch, I’d imagined what it would be like to be with Luka. I’d imagined the rough way he would bend me over the end of the sofa and claw at my body, but this isn’t like that. He is taking control, but it is still tender. He is claiming my body, but in a way that makes me feel cherished and beautiful.
Still kissing me, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, Luka grabs my wrists and pins them above my head with one of his hands. Then, he reaches down between us, positions himself at my opening, and begins to press.
I gasp as my body opens to him. He fills me inch by inch. Pain mingles with pleasure, and I roll my hips in shallow thrusts to help ease him inside. Finally, his body is flush with mine, and we stay there and enjoy the feeling for a moment. Then, Luka’s hand tightens around my hands, and he pulls out before slamming back into me.
My body arches with the force, and I try to free my hands to grab onto him or the bed or something, but he keeps a vice-like grip and does it again. And again. Between him filling me and the grinding of his hips against me, I’m lost on a turbulent sea of sensation and pleasure. I hear someone moaning and crying out, and it takes me a few seconds to realize it is me.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” I can’t use my hands, so I strain up as far as I can and capture Luka’s lips. He pulls almost completely out and then thrusts into me again, and I fall back on the mattress, gasping.
My body is cresting another large wave, ready to tumble over the edge, when suddenly, Luka lets go of my hands and pulls away from me. My eyes fly open and my hands begin searching for him, desperate to bring him back. He dodges my hands, grabs my hips, and yanks me to the edge of the bed. As soon as my feet hit the floor, he rolls me over.
I understand what is happening, and I stretch my upper body out on the bed, grab on to the blankets, and press my hips out to him for better access. Luka groans as his hands press a fiery line down my back. He curses under his breath as I arch my back, and when I shake my hips, he grabs my waist with one hands and presses himself inside of me with the other.
It is like a cool glass of water on a hot day. I relax onto the mattress, my cheek pressed against the cool material of his comforter, and close my eyes. He pulls my body back onto himself, and I go limp, letting him have me however he wants. He saws in and out of me, his breathing growing more ragged with each thrust, and I reach back to grab onto his thighs.
Suddenly, his hand cracks across my backside. I wince with the pain, but just as quickly, he sooths it away with a warm rub of his hand. There is another slap and then a caress. Another slap and a caress. It is a sensual game of give and take. Just when I think I can’t take another slap, his hand settles on my hip and then works around towards my front. I know his final destination, and I
lift my body off the mattress slightly so his hand can once again find my center.
He circles over me to the speed of his pulses. The sparks in my belly catch until flames are licking up the walls of my body, setting me ablaze inch by inch. If he keeps going, there won’t be anything left to save. I’ll be a pile of ash on the bed.
I hear his grunts with every movement of his hips. Our bodies are slapping together, sweaty and hot and wild, and I grab handfuls of the comforter to keep myself rooted to something real. Moans slip between my lips unprompted as my legs begin to tremble and the muscles of my stomach begin to clench.
“Yes. Please,” I moan, arching my back, aching to give myself over to him. “Please. Luka.”
He growls when I say his name, so I say it again.
“Luka, please.”
His hand pulls back from my center to move back to my hip, gripping the soft flesh there until I’m sure there will be bruises. With each thrust, he pulls me back on him until the sound of our bodies slapping together drowns out everything else. My entire body clenches at the same time the sound of his growls reaches a crescendo, and then, we both fall apart.
The warmth in my belly explodes, rippling through my arms and my legs. I curl my toes and lift my hips and scream through the orgasm. Luka’s thrusts have become more purposeful. He pulls me against him and pauses so I can feel him move inside of me. His heavy breathing shifts from growls to grunts to soft moans until, finally, he falls forward, his sweaty cheek resting against my back.
I lay there, quiet and sated, feeling the thrum of adrenaline and pleasure in my trembling arms and legs and the hammer of Luka’s heart against my spine.
15
Luka
I search for her before my eyes even open. Her lemon and honey smell is in my sheets and on my skin, and I want more of her immediately. My body is still weak from our marathon round last night, but it wasn’t enough. I’m not sure it will ever be enough.
My arm sweeps across the bed, but it is empty. I open my eyes and I see the mussed bedding where she was sleeping, but she isn’t there. The bed is cold.
I thought that once I fucked Eve, the ache in my chest would go away. I thought the need that ran out of my chest like a rope and tugged me towards her would abate once I had her, but instead, it felt stronger. Even though my eyes ache and my muscles are sore from having her in so many different positions, I crawl out from under the warm blankets, slip into a pair of thin cotton pajama pants, and pad down the hallway. Her bedroom door is open and her room is empty.
Part of me worries that she left. My phone didn’t show a notification that she was gone, but the tracker system isn’t perfect. If she managed to get the bracelet off, she could have slipped away. Maybe her pleasure last night was a performance. Maybe her orgasms were faked, and she was just luring me into complacency so she could embarrass me and sneak out of my bed and make a run for it.
The thought makes my fists clench, but not with anger…with a feeling I don’t recognize. Sadness?
The feeling floats away as soon as I reach the bottom of the stairs and hear the sizzle of bacon coming from the kitchen. Of course, she is cooking.
When I reach in the doorway, I pause. She is standing in front of the stove in one of my t-shirts that fit her like a dress. The material hangs like a shapeless sack over her body, but her bare legs stick out the bottom, and as she reaches to flip something on the back burners, the hem lifts high enough that I can see the curve of her butt and a pair of lacy red panties. The sun is barely up, and I’m hard as a rock.
No woman has ever made me breakfast. Not the morning after we’ve fucked. I’ve never even brought a woman to the mansion before. I go back to their house, get what I want, and then leave. So, this is new, and I’m surprised to find I don’t hate it. Seeing Eve move around my kitchen in my clothes might be the second sexist thing I’ve ever seen. The first being her laid out on the kitchen island with her legs wrapped around me. I let out a low chuckle when I realize the kitchen might now be one of my favorite rooms in the entire mansion.
At the sound, Eve spins around, eyes wide. She slaps a hand to her chest. “God, you scared me.”
I flash back to the first time I found her cooking in my kitchen—You should warn people before you sneak up behind them—and bite back a smile. “You weren’t in bed.”
“I came down to cook.”
“You didn’t ask.” The words are gruff, and I expect her to offer up a snappy response about how being my wife doesn’t make her my property, but instead, she laughs.
“You are grouchy first thing in the morning. Noted.” Eve smiles and then turns back to the stove. “I thought we both deserved some nourishment after last night.”
Something swells in my chest knowing last night was exceptional for her, too. “You mean that wasn’t a normal sexual encounter for you?”
She looks back over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “Was it normal for you?”
Not even close. I shrug. “Relatively normal.”
“Good to know I’m one of the many,” she says, flipping the bacon in the skillet and then sliding over to stand with her back against the countertop, arms crossed. Her eyes are narrowed at me like she is angry, but her lips are threatening to curve up at the corners.
“One of many many,” I emphasize, walking towards her, unable to stop myself.
She narrows her eyes further. “You should know it wasn’t special for me, either.”
I wrap a hand around her waist and draw her hips to mine. “Oh, it wasn’t?”
She looks down at the floor and shakes her head. “Not at all.”
“It sure seemed special,” I say, gripping her chin and lifting her face to mine. I lower my voice. “Like, when you pleaded with me to keep going and clawed my back as you trembled.”
A shiver works down her spine, and even though she is trying to be upset with me, her back arches and her chest brushes against my bare skin.
“And when you screamed my name,” I whisper, leaning forward so my lips are pressed to her ear. “That seemed special.”
“I scream a lot of guys’ names,” she says, her voice shaking. Her hand comes up to rest on my body, her palm warm against my ribs.
“Do you wake a lot of guys up after they’ve fallen asleep to tell them you need them one more time?” I ask, pressing my hardness against her belly.
Eve’s hand slides up my body, across my chest, and around my neck. She doesn’t answer, but her fingers pull me towards her, and I know I’ve won. When our lips touch, I plan for it to be a simple kiss, but it quickly grows into more. She rolls her body against me, her hands clawing at me until I pick her up and set her on the counter so she can wrap her legs around my waist. My stomach is growling, and I feel faint, but I’m not sure if it is from hunger or her. I’ve never been so consumed by someone before.
She kisses a line from my mouth to my ear, and then her lips wrap around my earlobe, and I moan, dropping all pretenses that she isn’t responsible for the most incredible sex I’ve ever had. My hand slides up her thigh towards her panties, and she squirms away from me, laughing into my neck.
“I have to finish cooking.”
“Who needs food?” I whisper, walking my fingers across the soft strip of skin just above her waistband. She opens her mouth to argue, but I kiss her, tipping her head back. Her protestations turn to soft sighs, and then her hand is working under the elastic of my pants and wrapping around my length. We are a moaning, rolling mess.
“Burning,” she moans against my mouth, her hand stroking me.
I let my head tip back and nod. “Yeah. This is so hot.”
She strokes me again and then pokes my chest with her other hand. “No, breakfast is burning.”
I open my eyes, and I’m looking at her through a haze of smoke. I turn to the stove and the bacon is blacker than it should be, but it isn’t inedible. I turn the burners off and immediately turn back to kiss her neck. “We’ll let it cool down before we eat.”
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She tips her head to the side, giving me better access. “I need to take it out of the pan if we want it to stop smoking. And the eggs are burning, too.”
“They can wait two minutes,” I groan.
“Two minutes?” She pulls back, eyes wide. “What about me?”
I nip her neck between my teeth. “I was including you in the estimate.”
She slides her hand out of my pants, leaving me unsatisfied, and pats me on the chest. “Someone sure is confident.”
She tries to push me away, but I hold my ground. I slide my hand down between her legs and give her a knowing smile. “And someone sure is wet.”
Her cheeks flush a beautiful pink, and she pushes me away. This time, I let her. The smoke isn’t subsiding, and if we don’t take care of it soon the smoke alarms will go off. She pulls the extra-crispy bacon out of the pan piece by piece and lays it on a bed of paper towels to absorb the extra grease. Then, she turns to the eggs, which are even worse than the bacon. She has to scrape off the entire bottom layer before she can separate out two scoops of scrambled eggs and top them with cheese.
“Isn’t bacon and eggs a little cliché for a chef?” I tease from my seat on the island.
Eve sprinkles some freshly-cracked pepper over the eggs and then levels a glare at me. “Well, I would have done more if I didn’t spend the first twenty minutes in the kitchen cleaning up the broken bottles and spilled liquor from last night.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that.” Warmth spreads in my stomach remembering the flurry from the night before. I couldn’t wait. Couldn’t go upstairs or carry her to the couch. I needed to taste her right then, so I’d swept hundreds of dollars of alcohol onto the floor. “My bad.”
She laughs and then turns and thrusts a plate into my hands. “That’s okay. You better just hope I didn’t slip a few of those glass shards into your breakfast.”
