by Noelle Adams
“Nothing,” he said thickly. “Nothing in the world would be wrong with that.”
Then he kissed her. Right there on the dance floor. And after a minute her head was spinning, and she had to pull away because otherwise she would be doing some things to him that would be very inappropriate to do in public, particularly at her boss’s wedding.
“Do you think we can go… go somewhere?” she asked, breathing raggedly. “To have fun.”
“Definitely. Let’s go now.”
He put his hand on her back again and walked her out of the room and into the hallway.
“It’s a long way to get home,” she said, thinking about the endless distance between them and a convenient bed. Now that she’d decided she could have him again, she wanted him right now.
Right. Now.
“Is there a hotel close by?” he asked.
She thought. “Not really.”
He muttered under his breath as they walked toward the back exit of the building to avoid the crowds lingering around the front.
“There’s always the car,” she said, not even embarrassed at the suggestion.
Lucas pushed in a partly opened door off the hallway and looked inside. “What about in here?”
She gave a little inhale and peered inside. It appeared to be some sort of dressing room, but it must not have been used for the wedding party because it was completely empty. There was a big mirror and an upholstered bench and a vanity and a rack for hanging clothes.
No one’s stuff was in it. It didn’t appear to be being used. No one was hanging out in this back hallway.
No one was even in sight.
And it was an empty room when they needed it.
She hesitated.
“There’s a lock on the door,” Lucas said, checking the doorknob.
“Good enough.” She pushed the door closed, fumbling to lock it, and then she hauled him down into a kiss.
The kiss was deep and passionate immediately, as if weeks of longing had been all bottled up and suddenly channeled into the touch of their lips. Lucas stepped her back against one of the walls in the room, and he devoured her mouth, his body hard and hot and deliciously masculine. Trapping her in place.
She clawed at the back of his shirt, trying to get him even closer, and her tongue dueled and danced with his until it triggered shivers of pleasure all centered between her legs.
“Maybe we should move to the bench,” she mumbled against his lips. His hands had been on her thighs, and now they were sliding up under her skirt, cupping her bottom in a deliciously possessive way.
“Why?” His mouth was moving down her neck, sucking on little spots that made her jolt with pleasure.
“Because if I don’t come pretty soon, I’m going to shatter into pieces. So I want to get past the standing-up part.”
She meant it. It might have all happened in a hot, intense rush, but her body was trembling, tense, poised for a climax she desperately needed.
He chuckled. “I think I could make you come while you’re standing.”
“Ha.” That was about as articulate a retort as she was capable of at the moment. Once his hands had found her breasts, she was arching into his palm, trying to get more friction where she needed it.
He was chuckling as he bent over far enough to nip at her breast through the fabric of her dress.
She cried out at the sharp surge of pleasure.
Then he was moving even lower, kneeling onto the floor.
“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless and slightly dazed.
“Making you come,” he said with an almost wicked smile. “Just make sure you keep standing up.”
Her eyes widened as he slid his hands up her thighs, moving her skirt up as he did. Then he tucked his fingers around the sides of her panties and pulled them down her legs.
“Oh God,” she breathed as he moved his head between her legs.
Was he actually doing this?
And was she going to have to try to keep standing up the whole time?
Her knees were already starting to buckle.
He widened her stance with his hands and then pulled her hips away from the wall to give him access. Then he gave her another devilish smile and advanced with a little lick with his tongue.
She cried out before she could stop herself.
He seemed to like her reaction, and he chuckled again. Then he went to work with his fingers, mouth, and tongue. She couldn’t really see what he was doing, but it felt incredible, and soon she was having to fight to not grind herself against his face.
She clutched at his head and pressed her back into the wall and tried desperately to make her legs hold herself up. She couldn’t stay quiet as he worked her over, but she was vaguely conscious that they were in a building with a lot of other people, so she finally had to stuff her fist into her mouth to smother her sounds of pleasure.
He had two of his fingers inside her, and he was sucking hard on her clit when she came undone completely. She sobbed around her fist, her body shaking helplessly as the orgasm ripped through her. She was still shuddering with little aftershocks when Lucas finally pulled his head away, grinning up at her with that smoldering amusement. The bottom half of his face was wet, and she wasn’t even embarrassed.
“And you stayed on your feet the whole time,” he said.
She half giggled and half sobbed as she pulled him up so she could hug him. He held her against him for a minute, his embrace tense, tight, almost needy.
But he was rocking into her slightly, and she knew he was really turned on. He’d taken the time to give her pleasure, no matter how urgent his own arousal was, and she didn’t fail to recognize that.
Plus she hadn’t had nearly enough.
“Now should we use the bench?” she asked against his shoulder. “Or did you want to do the next part standing up too?”
He choked on a laugh and then kissed her again, hefting her up as he did. She wrapped her legs around him, and he carried her over to the bench, easing her down on her back and moving on top of her.
“Please tell me you have a condom,” she mumbled against his mouth.
“I always have a condom.”
“Good man.”
Her legs were still wrapped around him, and she was grinding against the bulge of his erection. He was grinding back.
He pulled away long enough to dig the condom out of his wallet, and she worked on his trousers as he unwrapped it. They didn’t even take off his pants or underwear—just pushed them down enough to be out of the way. Then he put the condom on and positioned himself between her legs.
Then he was finally, finally easing inside her.
“Oh God!” She gasped, arching her neck in pleasure at the tight penetration. She hadn’t had sex since she’d had sex with Lucas six weeks ago, and it felt like forever.
She needed this.
She needed it bad.
“Oh fuck, that’s right, that’s so good, you feel so good.” Lucas was muttering out the words as he rolled his hips slightly, moving himself just slightly inside her.
“Lucas, please,” she breathed. She pumped her hips from below. “I need… I need… oh please.”
With a low groan, he started to thrust, building up a fast, steady rhythm that matched the pumps of her hips.
She was whimpering with how good it felt, how the motion seemed to come from her deepest core, how it triggered nerve endings all over her body. She slid her hands down to his ass, feeling the firm muscles as he worked his hips.
This was what she wanted.
This was so much what she wanted.
And she didn’t want it to end.
He fucked her like that until she came, choking on her release. Then without a word, he pulled out, turned her over the bench, and entered her from behind.
Then he got going again, and she was shocked to feel her body responding.
Again.
It couldn’t seem to get enough of him.
She was ma
king the most embarrassing sounds—somewhere between grunts and sobs, as he pumped into her, his body pressed into her back, his skin making a slapping sound as it hit her bottom.
“Lucas,” she heard herself gasping. “Lucas. Lucas. Oh God. Lucas.” She was trying to cling to the bench, but she kept turning her head to look at him behind her.
She liked the tension of his face, the heat in his eyes, the sheen of sweat on his skin. She liked how he was totally into this.
Just as much as she was.
He reached around her body until he was pressing his fingertips against her clit. He wasn’t really rubbing it. Just pressing against it. And it was exactly what she needed.
She bit her lip to smother a loud cry of pleasure.
“Oh fuck, baby,” Lucas was saying, as if the words were dragged out of him. He slowed down his thrusting momentarily and panted against her neck. He rolled his hips and pressed her clit, and she squeezed all around him, helplessly responding to him. “That’s right. That’s so good. I love your little body. I love it so much. So hot and tight. So responsive to me. I love how you feel.”
He rolled his hips again, and she came hard, gasping against the upholstery of the bench.
“So good,” he was muttering. “You’re so good for me, baby. So good.”
He braced himself with his free hand and started to pump hard.
“Yeah!” she breathed. “Hard. As hard as you want. Lucas, please. I want you… I want you…” She couldn’t finish a complete sentence, but she didn’t need to.
Lucas had finally let himself go, and she turned her head to watch the pleasure twisting on his face.
He let out a low roar as he fell over the edge, his body jerking behind her.
He was still groaning softly as his body started to relax. His ragged breath was blowing her hair just a little.
Jill was blazing hot and exhausted and slightly uncomfortable from their position, and she was so wet that it was trickling down the inside of her thighs.
She couldn’t remember ever having sex like this before.
She couldn’t remember ever being so physically sated, like her body had nothing more to need at the moment, like it had been given everything it could ever want.
“Oh God,” she kept saying, unable to stop.
Lucas just made wordless grunts, but he finally found the energy to pull out of her and take care of the condom.
With him having moved, she could readjust her body onto her back and collapse on the bench, gasping loudly and wiping sweat off her face.
There wasn’t room on the bench for Lucas, so he collapsed on the floor, his back against the wall.
They looked at each other, smiling and panting, for a long time.
Finally Lucas seemed to find his voice. “Well, you wanted to have a little fun. Would you call that fun?”
She gave a little giggle. “That was the most fun I can ever remember having.”
“Me too.”
She couldn’t help but like the sound of that.
Seven
AT FOUR THE FOLLOWING morning, Jill was having sex with Lucas again.
She hadn’t planned it. In fact, she wasn’t sure how it had even happened. They’d gone home after the wedding, and Michelle and Steve were there and getting along again, so the four of them had spent a friendly evening of pizza and Netflix together.
Occasionally she’d glance over at Lucas and find him looking at her, but they hadn’t said a word about having sex, and then they’d all gone to bed.
Jill had woken up at 3:57 a.m. Wide awake. Her mind whirling with what had happened with Lucas at the wedding and her body still feeling him inside her. She’d had to get up out of bed to distract herself, going to the bathroom and then to the kitchen for a cold bottle of water.
On her way back to her room, Lucas’s door had opened. She stopped, startled and disoriented. He stood in his doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, his hair practically standing up on end like he’d gone to sleep with it damp.
They didn’t say a word.
He just pulled her into his room, closing the door behind them. Then she was in the small bed with him, and his body was moving over her, his mouth on her lips, her throat, her cheekbone. He yanked up her pajama top so he could reach her breasts, and her fingers were tucked into the sides of his underwear, holding on. Just holding on.
The world was a hot, dark haze of pleasure, and she had no idea how long it was until Lucas was fumbling with a condom and then pushing himself inside her.
She wrapped her legs fully around his waist, hooking her ankles so they’d stay, as he rocked into her. He was slow and steady and so exactly right as he levered his hips with each thrust. It felt like he was watching her, even in the dark. It felt like he knew everything she was thinking, everything she was feeling.
She made sure to stay quiet as the pleasure overwhelmed her, turning her head to stifle the sounds she was making into a pillow. Lucas was grunting steadily, but they were soft and hoarse. Sometimes he said her name. Sometimes he said how good she felt. Sometimes he said how much he wanted, needed this. The cheap twin bedframe was squeaking but not too loudly or gratingly. All of it washed over her, mingling with the sensations, pushing her over the edge.
He only fell out of rhythm at the very end, his hips jerking against hers as she squeezed hard around him. Then he fell down on top of her and she clung to him like a lifeline.
They couldn’t stay like that for very long. The condom always got in the way. So soon Lucas was getting up, going to the door of the room, glancing out in the hall as if to make sure no one else was up, and then walking across to the hall bathroom to take care of the condom and clean up.
Jill stayed where she was. She was hot and relaxed and didn’t want to move yet. It wasn’t even five yet, and Michelle and Steve never got up early on Sunday mornings.
When Lucas returned, he switched on a light on the small dresser so the room wasn’t quite so dark. He came over and dropped into the bed beside her. There was room for both of them side by side, but just barely. She was under the sheet, but he didn’t try to cover up. He stretched his big body and then turned his head in her direction and smiled.
“Now that’s the way to start the week,” he said, his voice warm, relaxed, leisurely.
For no good reason, the comment made her heart drop stupidly.
There was nothing wrong with what he’d said. It wasn’t crude or insensitive or selfish. In fact, he was clearly giving her a compliment and letting her know how much he’d enjoyed having sex with her.
But it so perfectly highlighted the truth about what sex with her meant to him.
A good time.
Nothing but a good time.
And she knew it. Of course she knew it. She’d gone into this with her eyes wide open. She’d made a conscious decision to have a good time with him for a little while before she started to look again for her forever man.
This was what she’d wanted.
And it was exactly what he was giving her.
But she suddenly knew—knew so deeply that it made her body stiffen—that she had to be very careful here. If she didn’t guard herself carefully, she was going to be wanting more from Lucas than he was capable of giving her.
Yes, he could change. He was capable of change.
But she couldn’t count on him to change.
He’d told her he didn’t want any long-term commitments. He’d told her he always moved on. And she had to believe him.
She couldn’t hope for more from this.
She would get her heart broken. Broken so badly it would take ages to recover.
Lucas was never going to be her boyfriend—much less her forever man—so she could never let herself start thinking about him that way.
“You okay?” he asked, his tone different now.
“Y-yeah.”
“Is that a real yeah?”
She smiled, sorting through her feelings at last. “Yeah, it’s a real yea
h. Sorry. Just recovering from all that great sex we just had.”
He smiled back, but his eyes were watchful. She wasn’t sure if he believed her or not.
She sat up, suddenly feeling exposed despite the fact that she was covered up with the sheet. “Do you know what happened to my top?”
They both looked around the bed, and then Lucas rolled over onto his side and reached down to the floor to snag her pajama top.
As she put it on, she couldn’t help but notice the long, ragged scar down the side of his back, leading down beneath the waistband of his underwear.
Unable to stop herself, she reached over and traced the line of it with her fingertips.
She felt him freeze for a moment with a tension deeper than physical.
She didn’t say anything as she touched his scar. She wondered what had happened to him, what had hurt him so badly.
What wound was taking so long to heal inside him.
His body was so strong, so lean and hard and powerful.
Something had ripped it apart.
Something had hurt him very badly.
She couldn’t stand the thought of it.
Finally he rolled onto his back, hiding the scar from her. He gave her a wary look and didn’t say anything.
He wasn’t going to tell her.
A few stray memories had returned from that evening she’d gotten drunk with him, and she remembered him telling her that one day he would tell her about his bam. She wasn’t sure why that moment had stuck with her despite the fuzziness of the rest of it, but it had.
He hadn’t meant it though.
They were friends now. They were roommates. They’d had sex twice in the past twelve hours. And he still wasn’t going to tell her.
He wasn’t her boyfriend.
He didn’t want to be her boyfriend.
And he never would.
When she met his eyes again, she could see he was waiting warily for her to ask about his scar again. She could see it on his face. He expected her to ask, and he was getting ready a rejection.
She didn’t want to be rejected by him. It would hurt her feelings quite badly. She licked her lips and held the question back.
After a minute or two, she saw him relax.
She needed to say something eventually, so she finally said, “I don’t really want Michelle and Steve to know about this.”
