His hand drops from my face, and he turns away to reach the lamp.
What does he mean by that? How am I supposed to convince him that I’m serious about wanting him to be my first and last lover?
I know it sounds crazy. Lucas and I met only a couple days ago. To the casual observer, I am off my fucking rocker for taking a leap of faith like this. Trusting a man I barely know to be my husband and father my children. Hell, even wanting a man you hardly know to do all those things is bizarre. There’s no question that if one of my friends told me she was considering eloping with a man she just met, I would’ve told her: No. Wait a few years. Why rush?
But it’s different when you meet someone and everything feels right, way more than it should for the first date. And you know deep in your bones that this is the man you’re supposed to end up with. You’ll go anywhere, so long as it’s with him. That’s how I feel about Lucas, and I can’t explain it.
I just know.
So I slide my hand around his waist and cuddle up behind him, folding my body into his, and then I wrap my fingers around the thickness jutting against his black boxers.
Lucas turns around lazily with a small smile, as though he expected this. “You are so begging for it.”
I look straight at him. “I’m trying to convince you that I’m serious about you.”
And how does a girl do that? By giving him a fantastic blowjob.
He watches as I swing my leg over his waist, shimmying down until I’m face-to-face with his groin. I lean down, kissing a patch of skin right above his boxers. Instead of pulling away, my lips move down. Then I press them against his growing hardness. His fingers dig into my hair.
“Wrapping your lips around my cock is not what I meant about convincing me, sweetheart.”
I freeze, mouth hovering over him. It wasn’t what he meant, but that doesn’t mean he’d say no to a blowjob. “You tasted me,” I say, slowly tugging his boxers. “Now I want to taste you.”
He heaves a great sigh. “You fucking temptress. We’re still doing things my way, honey. No sex. Not until you’re mine.”
“I’m in your bed, Lucas.”
He lifts his hips as he glares at me for daring to tempt him. I pull his boxers off, gazing at his cock for the first time. It’s warm in my hand. I grab the root of him. He’s so thick with blood I can feel his heartbeat pounding. Amazed by the smoothness of his skin, I glide up his length and swirl my thumb over his bulbous head. Lucas sucks in a breath.
I smile at him. “A good wife should know how to give head, shouldn’t she?”
He says nothing, looking at me with a mixture of lust and fury. I bend down, intoxicated with the power I have over him. Then I breathe him in. Nothing. My tongue darts out for a taste. A pleasant, slightly salty taste. I allow my tongue to flatten against him, swirling on his underside. I’m no stranger to blowjobs. Giving my mouth to men never mattered to me. The rest of me? That was for the man I’d meet one day, not the boys I tolerated to get experience.
I wrap my lips around him and feel him bulging in my throat as I take him deep. Lucas’ firm hold has become a caress, his nails gentle against my skin. I feel him buck his hips as I glide up and down his length. He moans when he buries himself deep enough to hit my throat. Damn, that’s hot. I twist my head, swirling my tongue around the tip and hard against his underside, flicking against that sensitive spot. His grip becomes hard, punishing. He fucks my mouth. I love it.
And when I look up into Lucas’ feverish gaze, I know that he’s going to come in my mouth. When it happened with anyone else, I excused myself to the bathroom and spat it out, always feeling like a dirty little whore when I looked at myself in the mirror. This is different. He told me he wanted more than just a quick fuck, and by taking him between my lips I accepted that.
His fingers tighten as he grinds his hips against my lips. The room echoes with his guttural moan as he finishes inside me. I feel him tense, and then a fantastic warmth fills my mouth. I swallow him as he pumps a few more times, more jets hitting the back of my throat. Shaking, he parts the hair from my face and I make sure to suck every drop from his cock. He pops from my lips, still hard as nails.
He kisses me. Long and hard, as though we’re lovers who were separated for years. He sucks in my bottom lip and bites down, hard enough to make me yelp. When he pulls back, he massages my lip as though in apology. I want him so badly I can taste my arousal, thick in the air.
I don’t know what he’s thinking. “Did you like it?”
He lets out a sigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the image of your perfect lips wrapped around me. You’re incredible. So innocent.”
The last word breathes against my mouth before it’s cut off by my kiss. I want him so bad I could shift my panties and sit on his erect cock. He ends the kiss before I can try.
“Get some sleep, Alexa. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Then I feel like a foolish girl for thinking I could convince him with a blowjob. Who do I think he is? He’s not some jerk who’ll be swayed by the first girl who gets on her knees for him.
I burrow deep into the bed when Lucas flips the light off. I think he’s going to ignore me the whole night, but then I hear the bed groan, and his body presses against my back. A leaping feeling spreads through my stomach when his arm snakes around my waist and holds me to his chest.
His head buries in my neck, another leap of excitement, and then he whispers, “Two days, Alexa. Sleep well.”
Two days until I leave? Two days until he decides whether I want to be his wife or not? Until he fucks me? What in the hell did he mean? I obsess over it all night when I’m supposed to be sleeping. How can I when my skin burns at his closeness?
When dawn filters through the cracks in the trees, I slide Lucas’ arm off my body and gently ease out of bed. He’s still lost in sleep, gorgeous even when he’s knocked out. I open the drawers in the dresser by the bed, finding half of them empty, until I see a pile of T-shirts. I grab a white one and pull it over my head. It’s so long that it covers me to mid-thigh.
My toes curl against the cold floor, but I find I’m getting used to it. I walk into the living room and smile at the unwashed mug of cocoa sitting near the sink. I think about us curled up on the couch, his hand stroking my growing belly. It’s a nice image.
A soft knock at the door pops the glow of my vision. I hesitate, not wanting to wake Lucas up. Should I just answer it? My hand hovers at the doorknob. Finally I grab it.
I open it a crack and, recognizing Jess’ wild, black curls, I open it farther. “What are you doing here?”
She looks at my bare legs and the shirt, which I realize is probably translucent. Her mouth opens in shock. “Holy shit, you fucked this guy?”
“Would you keep your voice down?”
She does, a smirk widening her face. “Alexa Monroe, I’m impressed. You had rando sex. Good for you!”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Like hell!”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t sleep with him. Well, we did sleep in the same—”
“Oh please, would you stop trying to justify it? I don’t give a damn who you give your v-card to. I’m just here to tell you we’re leaving early.” She rolls her eyes. “Turns out the boys can’t handle the cold, and Bryan’s been bitching at me ever since you gave him the cold shoulder—oh my God, does your mountain man have art on his walls?”
I look over my shoulder. “Yeah, he’s a bit of an artist.”
“A bit?” She grabs the edge of the door, opening it wider. “Wow. He’s a collector?”
“No, it’s all his work,” I say, seizing the moment to gush about Lucas. “He’s brilliant.”
“Oh my God, I have to see this.”
“No, wait—”
She pushes her way through before I can stop her. Sighing, I keep the door open even though the frigid cold keeps rolling in. Headstrong is Jess’ middle name. So is Pain in the Ass.
<
br /> “Wow!” She takes off her hat as though she’s walking through the Sistine Chapel. She gazes around at all the still lifes, portraits, and watercolor paintings. “This is amazing, Alexa. You hit the jackpot.”
“I think he’s too good for me, honestly.”
“Hell no, Alexa. You find a man like this and you take him and run. I’d ditch Greg in a second for a man with talent like this.”
This is making me nervous. She really shouldn’t be in here, and I doubt Lucas would appreciate a stranger poking through his things. “Look, I really think you should leave.”
“Holy crap, this is beautiful. Wait, is this you?” Jess peels back the piece of paper hiding the canvas sketch of me on the easel, her mouth wide with shock. “Lucas Wood—am I reading this signature right?”
“Yeah, that’s his name. What? You don’t approve now?”
I’m bewildered by the hostile look she throws my way. “Fuck you.”
“What’s your problem?’
“You spread your legs for Lucas Wood! He told you he’d help you get an art gallery, didn’t he?”
Fury balls in my chest. “I don’t know what the hell you’re getting at, but you are way out of line.”
“I’m out of line. Right.” She steps back, laughing. “You’re fucking Lucas Wood. One of the greatest artists of our generation. They featured him in our contemporary art class. You seriously expect me to believe you didn’t recognize him?”
A flicker of a memory dances in my mind, slightly out of reach. It feels like a million years ago when I was worried about a photograph. Goddamn it. “It’s not like that,” I say too quickly. “We’re not having sex. I haven’t asked him for any favors.”
“That’s why you wanted to come here, wasn’t it?” she shouts, not bothering to keep quiet now. “You wanted to find Lucas-Fucking-Wood. You fuck him, and he hands you a spot in a gallery.”
“No, that’s not true!”
“I can’t believe you!” she roars. “All that shit about how you’re a virgin, and you give it to the first man who’s willing to trade you something for it. Guess what, that doesn’t make you smart. It makes you a fucking whore.”
A deeper voice cracks through the room like thunder. “You need to get the hell out.”
I look behind me, eyes stung with tears, and Lucas is standing in the living room, arms crossed. His face is white with fury for Jess, but he looks at me and his eyes soften.
Chapter 10
Lucas
There is an intruder in my home. The door stands open, letting the early morning chill flood inside. It raises gooseflesh on Alexa’s legs, making her shiver. Her back is straight and she’s furious, staring down her friend, who has tracked mud into my house with her ridiculous leather boots.
“Get the hell out,” I bark again.
Alexa flinches and takes a halting half step until she bumps into me while her friend glowers. Beyond the door, Bryan lurks. The way he takes advantage of Alexa’s state of undress to get an eyeful is starting to piss me off. She folds her arms over her chest and her toes curl like she’s trying to suck her bare legs up into her shirt.
“Hey,” I snap at the boy. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”
Bryan shoves his fists in his pockets and turns away, defeated.
Alexa’s friend, or ex-friend, smirks at me. “It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot. Hope you enjoy fucking your way into fame, Alexa.”
Alexa glares back, silent. The girl struts out of my house and pulls the door shut behind her with a slam.
I turn the dead bolt so hard it feels like the knob will shear off in my hand, and turn around. Alexa takes another step back, this time away from me. Her eyes are wet with the threat of tears. She shakes her head.
“Monday?” I ask.
Alexa sighs. “Yeah. They came to tell me they’re going back early. We were supposed to stay through the weekend but I guess they got tired of country living.”
Turning, she looks up at me, apprehension in her eyes. “Listen,” she says.
I put my arms on her shoulders and pull her in, drawing her into a gentle embrace.
Her whole body shakes. “I’m not trying to get anything out of you. I promise.”
“Be quiet.”
She tenses, sucking in a breath to plug up any more explanations. I stroke the back of her head and caress her back.
“It’s cold. Let’s get you warmed up.”
I guide her back into the bedroom and swaddle her in my robe. It’s about four sizes too big for her and more like a blanket. She wraps it around and around herself until she’s a formless roll of flannel with a pretty, smiling face sticking out.
“What she said is not true,” Alexa says, an edge still in her voice.
“I know,” I assure her, holding her.
“I don’t want anything from you but you.”
I press my lips to her forehead. “When a girl looks at you with your cock in her mouth the way you did last night, you know she’s a keeper.”
She laughs and playfully smacks my chest. “Don’t be nasty.”
I laugh at her, loudly. “You’re telling me not to be dirty? Miss Oh, fuck me, Lucas.”
Suddenly we’re on the bed and I’m on top of her, kissing her. She shakes her legs loose of my robe and wraps them around my waist, pulling me in. It would be so easy to shuffle my shorts down and thrust inside her, but I stop myself with aching restraint.
I roll off her, leaving her lying there in my splayed-out robe, my borrowed shirt hiked up to her waist to bare her long legs. She shamelessly displays the soft petals of her pussy. Her stomach tenses a little to lift her hips and invite me to a different sort of breakfast.
I touch her mound just above her clit and run my finger up to her belly button before walking out of the bedroom.
A drawer thumps and she emerges wearing a pair of my boxers, knotted at the small of her back to keep them up. She brushes past me into the kitchen, where she grabs a pan, lightly humming to herself.
“What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast,” she announces.
I fold my arms. She gives me a smirk.
“When I said I wanted a partner I didn’t mean a maidservant.”
“That’s too bad. I bet you’d love it if I wore one of those little outfits with the black dress and white lace. Ooh la la.”
Her smirk turns into a grin and she begins cracking eggs into a mixing bowl. “I cook for myself.”
“Can’t you just let me be nice to you?”
I swallow. “Nobody has cooked for me in a long time. I’m not really used to it.”
She bites her lips and her pretty face is briefly clouded with worry. “What else do you want?”
I lay my hand on her lovely thick ass and squeeze.
She snickers. “That’s not on the menu right now.”
“Make up your mind.”
She smirks.
“I’ll help,” I insist. “You make the eggs, I’ll make the toast and the bacon.”
It takes some getting used to, the presence of another person in my little domain. I keep turning around expecting to flip the eggs myself, but she’s there, humming as she whisks them in the pan with the spatula. I don’t know the tune, but it sounds oddly familiar.
When the plates are on the counter, she picks up her stool and moves it next to mine so we’re almost touching as we eat. She snatches a piece of bacon off my plate and I glare at her.
“Are you trying to provoke me?”
“Maybe,” she says. “What are we going to do today? Another nature walk? More nude modeling?”
The promise in her eyes almost makes me say yes.
I roll my shoulders. “We’ll see. Have to clean up after ourselves first.”
Alexa fills my home. I find myself stopping to stare at her as she does the most mundane things, like scrubbing her dish in the sink. The way the light from the window fills her hair, the way she leans forward just so, presenting the inviting curves of her back a
nd her luscious ass in an unconscious, innocent way.
I step behind and press into her, reaching into the sink to help her clean. She rubs her ass against me, and I press my chest into her back. Doing the dishes turns into an erotic dance that makes me harder with every second that passes.
I can’t stand it anymore. As she dries her hands I wrap my arms around her, trap her in my embrace, and dip her backward to lock my lips on hers. She squirms and relaxes in my arms until I stand her back up.
“What was that for?”
I stroke my fingers down her chin. “Get dressed.”
She heads for the bedroom and grabs my hand to pull me along. This time she is demure. She hides herself as she disrobes, showing me only glimpses of the outer curves of her breasts, turning so I only see her legs and hips as she steps into her panties and pulls them up. A half-turn, and she looks over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine.
“Are you going to get dressed, or stare at me?” she says. “Maybe I should take these clothes back off?”
“I’m starting to wonder if I should bother letting you dress at all.”
That got her. She shivers just slightly, and I can tell from her eyes that if I told her to strip right now she’d do it.
I smirk and change my clothes. She watches. I like it. Feeling her gaze on my skin, I think about the feeling of her sucking my cock last night. The shocking heat of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the look in her eyes. That most of all.
Alexa strides out of the bedroom and into the living room. I watch, savoring her every movement. She sinks into the couch and crosses her legs, fidgeting nervously. I don’t know why she’s gone from seductive to tense so fast.
I take a seat beside her. The couch is old and I bought it secondhand, so my weight on the creaky springs all but dumps her in my lap. She lifts her legs over my lap and wraps around my body, her head on my shoulder.
“Can we talk?” she says.
I wait. There is a terrible, sharp twist in my stomach—this is where she tells me it’s great but she has to go back to her life.
“I’m supposed to leave soon, but I don’t want to. I want to stay.”
Riding Wood Page 7
