Loving Lucas (11 page)

“Do you like a little pain, Karlie?”

The question reverberates throughout my body. No one has ever asked me that before, not in the way he means it.
Do I like pain?
I like the look on his face when I yank his hair. I do it again, harder. He winces.

“Is that a yes?”

“I like
you.
” And I wouldn’t mind a spanking or a pinch.

He nods, then grabs my right hand and drags me across the living room. He opens my bedroom door and steps inside. “Don’t be nervous.”

I follow him.

“Lay down, darlin’.”

I gaze at the perfectly made bed.
What’s he
. . . I’m swept off my feet and gently deposited on the thick comforter. He turns away and starts opening my dresser drawers. I’m too stunned to say anything. What’s he looking for? Once he faces me again, he’s holding a linen belt. He edges closer, raising my hands above my head.

“Do you trust me enough to let me tie your hands?”

I remember our exchange about handcuffs at the racetrack. A small smile plays at my lips; I consent with a nod. This man can tie me up anytime he pleases. Another deep growl escapes his lips as I’m bound to my headboard in seconds.
Never. I’ve never surrendered complete control before.
But Lucas just claimed it. And I volunteered to let him. The thought makes me squirm, and I test the limits of my bonds. Did he tie a loose knot? No, but I have enough room to move my arms. I’m at his mercy and I like it. He’s observing me now, hovering over me.

“I want to fuck you, Karlie,” he whispers.

As if on command, my hips buck.

He chuckles and unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down his muscular thighs. Next, he removes his boxers. My gaze is locked on his narrow hips. He’s so beautiful. That’s the only word that comes to mind. Then my eyes shift downward to another breath-robbing vision. Lucas’s cock is smooth, long, and thick. And I want it, in my mouth and between my legs. I wiggle again, disliking the fact that I suddenly can’t touch him.

“Easy, darlin’.” He kneels on the edge of the mattress.

He rests his hand on my knee, blowing on my skin, and I nearly explode. I can’t believe I’m so susceptible to his close proximity and touch. I close my eyes. What’s happening to me? Sex with Connor didn’t feel like this; in fact, I didn’t like it at all. But Lucas . . . I hear the buzz of my vibrator and my eyes snap open.

My skirt is hiked up and Lucas is positioned between my legs, looking too confident, too immersed in whatever game he’s playing. That vibrator is nothing more than a clit tickler, and it’s never done anything for me before. With one hand he discards my panties, then pets my center. I inhale, desperate for deep penetration. I need him to make me forget the past.

“There are so many levels of pleasure,” he comments while getting eye level with my pussy. “Longing is the first.”

Lucas’s tongue, his thumb, and the tip of my vibrator converge at once inside me. He suckles my clit, nibbling and biting. I scream and twist my arms, trying to free myself. I’m in sensory overload—I can’t . . .

Within seconds, the throb of my orgasm follows. Lucas is watching me closely, but the dead silence kills me. Then he makes a slurping noise. “I love how you taste.”

“Need a napkin?” I ask sarcastically. “It’s your turn . . .”
 

Not a chance. He drives his thumb deeper and resumes the bliss-filled torture, his tongue and the vibrator taking turns. “Stop! Pl-please.” I’m begging now. If he wanted me to learn a lesson about uncontrollable pleasure, I have. One orgasm is enough! But not giving me a chance to recover in between takes it to another level. “Please.”

His hand snakes up my stomach and he tweaks my nipple. I moan. And he does it again, harder and in perfect synch with his mouth. He bites my clit and pinches my nipple at the same time, again and again until I scream in utter ecstasy and devastation, knowing too well where we’re headed—where he’s driving me. To the very edge of pleasure and pain. The vibrator is quickly abandoned and he shifts on his knees, filling me with three fingers and licking his way down my core, then back up.

“Come for me again, darlin’.” His fingers turn somersaults inside me.

Then I feel it—he’s humming and licking. Those happy fingers . . . My legs tremble and I’m gone, lost in the heat and pulse suffusing my body. I’m suddenly flipped over, my legs kneed apart, and he covers me with his heavy frame, nuzzling close to my ear.

“You’re near the top of the pleasure scale, Karlie,” he says. “Complete saturation is one of my favorites.” He impales me in one stroke, burying himself so deep I’m helpless to move. “Feel that?”

If he means practically puncturing my guts, I do. “Yes.”

“Do you want me?”

“Oh God—yes.”

“Tell me.” He’s barely moving, just quarter strokes, enough to tease and make me squirm.

My arms are so tired; my wrists sting from the friction of trying to get loose. “Make love to me.”

“I thought you’d never ask . . .” He pulls out, then hammers deep.

I melt into the bed. Then he pounds so hard my teeth rattle. Coated with perspiration, our bodies slip and slide, but he grips my hips, keeping us perfectly aligned. I’m limp and useless, but I feel that familiar warmth rising inside me.

“Now,” he says, biting my neck.

Three orgasms. I’m making up for lost time, and Lucas simply blows my mind.

Chapter Twelve

Karlie is asleep now. Something most women complain that men do after brisk lovemaking. I chuckle, rather pleased I wore her tiny body out. I gently roll off the bed, careful not to disturb her. I walk to the closet, open the door, and grab a blanket from a shelf. Before I cover her, I admire the shape of her body. She’s lying on her back, her breasts in full view. I bite my fist, tempted to taste and touch her again. But in reality, I need to recharge, and hope she’ll nap until I reheat the lasagna.

She doesn’t stir as I leave the room. I pad upstairs, thanking Marvin Gaye for helping set the tone for the evening. I shut off my stereo and head to the bathroom to wash off. I flip the light on and stare in the mirror. I look better than I have in months; there are no shadows under my eyes. Ever since my divorce and the last custody hearing, I’ve slept sporadically. Every bump in the night wakes me. Sometimes I grab my service gun and check the house top to bottom.

I finish wiping myself off and throw the washcloth and towel in the hamper. As I leave the bathroom, I stop at my dresser. I stare at the picture of my ex and son. I shake my head, cursing myself for being so absentminded. Karlie cleans in here and I’m sure she’s seen the photograph. Without a second thought, I stuff it inside one of the drawers. I have plenty of pictures of my son. I’ll transfer one into the frame later. I don’t want anything to interfere with my relationship with Karlie. Nothing. My former spouse included.

I enter the kitchen and turn the oven to broil. A minute later the bell rings and I shove the pan inside. Dinner will be ready soon. Then I grab the bottle of Chateau Montelena Estate Cabernet Sauvignon.
 

I fill both glasses, then set the bottle on the sideboard. This is the kind of thing I’ve missed out on for too long: wining and dining a beautiful woman who desires me as much as I want her.
God help me.
If Willow finds out I’m involved with someone, she’ll bring it up at the next hearing. Unless I provide a full background check and personnel file.
Shit.
Craig’s warning rings inside my head:
Worry about the douche bags she hangs out with . . .

But my son is already thousands of miles away, being raised by a man I met once—for fifteen minutes.

The oven alarm rings and I remove the pan of lasagna. The aroma of twice-melted cheese and sweet Italian sausage fills my nostrils. I’m starving. I place the pan on a hot stone on the table, then walk to Karlie’s room. She’s already kicked off the blanket and turned onto her stomach, her little ass waiting for me. I swallow, my cock standing at full attention. Taking her doggie style fulfilled one of several fantasies I’ve already imagined with her.

Unable to resist, I crawl onto the bed, sliding my hands up her legs. She moans when I grip her hips, pulling her down the mattress.

“Lucas?” She sounds so sleepy-cute.

“Expecting someone else?”

She giggles. “Not today.”

“Not ever,” I correct.

“Not ever,” she repeats.

I nod, pleased she agrees. She’s still wet with excitement and willing.

“For you,” she informs me.

“What?”

“Don’t worry about me—I came three times already. You deserve a quickie.”

No woman has ever made such a generous offer.

“Besides,” she says. “That lasagna smells divine.”

She slams against me, her round ass better than a centerfold’s. She whimpers when I enter her on a long stroke, then pull out.

“Lucas . . .”
 

The desperation in her voice combined with the gyration of her hips sets me off.
Boom!
I collapse on top of her, breathless and spent.

“Trying to set a new record?” She gazes over her shoulder.

“For what, smart-ass?”

“Quickest . . .”
 

I cuff her backside and she laughs. “I’m hungry,” she says.

“So am I.” Though I’m not exactly sure what for. The more I’m with her, the more I want.

We both rinse off in her bathroom, then she puts on a silky short robe and follows me to the dining room. I pull her chair out and claim the seat next to her, at the head of the table. I scoop a medium-size piece of lasagna onto her plate, then serve myself. She takes a long whiff of the food and a pretty smile lights up her face.

“You really made this?”

“From scratch.”

She takes a tentative bite. “Mmm.” She chews, swallows, then shovels more into her mouth. “Excellent.”

I’m not really interested in the food anymore. Instead, I watch her, loving the way she sucks noodles off her fork. Even the way she sips wine turns me on. What the hell is wrong with me? We’ve already made love twice and I want her again. There’s a little bit of marinara on the corner of her mouth, so I use my napkin to wipe it off. She grabs my wrist, then whips the linen out of my hand, dropping it on the table. She sucks my finger into her mouth and I close my eyes, loving the way it feels, wishing it were another part of my body.

“I’ve never been so ravenous,” she says.

I know what she means too well. There’s general attraction, what I feel whenever a beautiful woman is near me, but with Karlie, my whole body aches with need. And when she’s gone, I can’t keep her out of my head. I wonder where and what she’s doing. I picture her hanging out with other guys and it drives me crazy. It was never that way with my ex. I cared, but with Karlie, everything is magnified.

“Connor never—”

I growl coming off my chair, capturing her mouth with mine. I’ve made my feelings clear; I never want to hear his name. I’ll fuck that bastard out of her mind and heart and replace her doubt with something pure. She surrenders, offering herself to me again. I help her to her feet.

“Again?” I ask, praying she wants me.

“Now.”

Our hands find each other’s bodies, madly exploring, pinching and grabbing, tweaking and taking. I strip her robe off, my gaze raking over her flawless skin. Head to toe, I’m fucking addicted. I bury my fingers in her long hair, tugging her head back until she’s staring up at me. Those sapphire eyes are full of lust and fear of the unknown.

“I can’t keep doing this if you’re unsure—I won’t risk your heart or mine.”

“Our hearts?” She looks startled.

“Yes,” I confirm. “There’s nothing else to sacrifice here, Karlie. I’m not a player; I don’t want a casual relationship.”

“But . . .”
 

She’s upset by my feelings? Maybe I misjudged her intent. “Is that what
you
want?”

She shakes her head. “Never.”

“Good.” I’d have accepted no less. I kiss her again. Our tongues swirl together, and the intensity floods my body with a multitude of sensations. My heart pulses. If I were any less of a man, I’d deny those real feelings, but I can’t. I’m just not sure where it’s going to end. How far will she get before she hits that goddamn wall I erected when my ex told me she was leaving me?

In the span of just a few minutes, Lucas has revealed the truth. Unlike Connor, this man speaks plainly; there’s no mistaking his intentions. He’s not looking for a hookup, and neither am I. Yet I have a hard time forming a coherent thought. Wrapped up in his kisses, I’m afraid everything I do or say will be irrational. I can’t think straight. When our bodies are united, we’re like a perfectly engineered machine.

I gasp when he grips my ass cheeks and lifts. I encircle his waist with my legs, locking my feet behind him, squeezing as hard as I can. He carries me to the living room, slowly dropping to his knees, his lips sealed tightly over mine. As soon as he’s comfortable, I lean back, letting my head hit the floor.

“Karlie,” he says, “if we keep doing this, neither one of us will be able to walk tomorrow.”

“I’ll happily crawl . . .”
 

He laughs. “I don’t know where you’re from, Karlie Augustine, but you say all the right things.” He lifts me by the hips. “Ready?”

I nod.

Every time he penetrates me it feels like my first time. We move in unison, my hips rocking slowly. This is the first time we’ve shared a more tender moment; all that hunger and unspent passion needed to be released first. I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s not smiling, but there’s a satisfied look on his handsome face. And those dark brown eyes could melt any woman’s heart. With meticulous skill, he withdraws deliciously slowly, knowing exactly when to stop, then fills me again. The length of his cock grazes my clit, practically sending me over the edge.

He sucks in a loud breath. “Sweet, lovely girl . . .”
 

My body belongs to Lucas. Whenever he compliments me or whispers like that, I’m gone. “I want you, Lucas.”

“Say my name again.”

“Lucas.”

His eyes close. “Again.”

“Lucas,” I whisper. He pumps harder in response.