Flesh: Part Three (The Flesh Series Book 3)

by Corgan, Sky

  “You like it when I touch you,” his voice takes on a dark tint.

  “Mhm,” I reply absentmindedly, keeping my eyes closed.

  “Do you like it when I touch you here?” The back of his finger traces across the seam of my sex. My thighs instinctively squeeze together from the ticklish shiver that assaults me. Since I wasn't watching him, I hadn't expected that. He slides his hands between my thighs and pries them apart, his eyes boring down on me with predatory lust. “No. Bad girl. Keep them apart for me.”

  I bite my bottom lip as I bow my thighs for him, the slightest tremor of pain running up my leg as my ankle turns on the bed. He grins approvingly before his attention focuses on my navy blue lace panties.

  Inside of me, the butterflies fight for space as I watch him. I can't believe I'm doing this, that I'm laying here and allowing him to look at my most intimate parts. It feels so forbidden and wrong and exciting.

  He pets over my folds with the back of his fingers, and I try not to hold my breath as I feel pleasure pool in all of my most erogenous spots. My nipples perk hard against the fabric of my bra, making me want to reach up and play with them, though I refrain. I want more stimulation, but he's being so teasing. It drives me insane, knowing that he wants me, but that he won't just claim me. Have I ever been this horny before? I'm not sure. All I know is that I want sex. It's the only thing on my mind. Everything else is gone. Just sex, sex, sex. Him inside of me. His dick pushing into me and stretching me. I want it so badly.

  “Let's see how wet you are.” He pulls aside my panties and slips a finger between my folds. The sudden pressure of the digit filling me causes me to yip. “Oh yes, you're so very ready for me.”

  He probes his finger just once before removing it. Then he leans over and presses it against my lips. I want to cringe. My scent is strong on him, and I don't want to taste myself, but I know it will please him if I do, so I open my mouth. His finger slides across my bottom lip, the wetness leaving a trail there before he pops it into my mouth.

  “Suck.”

  I close my lips around the digit, doing what I'm told, tasting my own arousal. At the same time, he uses his other hand to pull the plummeting neckline of my blouse aside along with my bra, causing my breast to spill free. The action is so forceful that I gasp. His mouth descends on my chest, his tongue circling around the hard bud. Pleasure pulses between my legs as he sucks my nipple. His teeth crush the sensitive nerves, causing a bite of pleasure-pain that makes me whimper around his finger.

  He pulls his finger from my lips and slips it back between my legs, pressing it between my folds and honing in on my clit. He slicks it around my cleft, and my hips buck. The sharp pain in my ankle is all but ignored as I fight to find that place where heaven and earth collide and all I am is carnal instinct.

  Lucian releases my nipple with a wet popping sound, looking up over my chest with a wicked darkness in his eyes. “Careful, beautiful. Not yet.”

  “Please,” my voice sounds every bit as foreign as I knew it would. I'm so aroused though. I need to come.

  “Please what?” the words are sharp, almost taunting.

  I refuse to say it. I won't. It's too crude. I bite my bottom lip and give him my best seductive look, trying to fight fire with fire. When he doesn't move, my resolve quickly slips, and I end up pouting instead.

  His face meets mine, and my eyes grow hooded as I expect him to kiss me. Instead, though, he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug. My hormones go on overdrive, my need for him almost doubling from that small action. I hate him. I hate him for being so good at seducing me. I hate him for breaking me down.

  “Please, Sir,” I force the words out.

  “Please, Sir, what?”

  “Please. Kiss me. Touch me.” I want to tell him to fuck me, but that's just too much. Baby steps.

  “As you wish.” His lips crash against mine with all the heat I had been praying for. At the same time, his index finger bears down on my clit. He rubs in fast circles. Vibrating. Drawing my climax to the surface so fast that my body can't keep up. I moan shamelessly into the space between us as his soft lips and rigid touch make me see stars. It feels like everything in the entire world has stopped to rotate around my pleasure. Nothing has ever been this good.

  He pulls away from me, looking smug, and all I can do is lay there and recover as he takes my underwear off. If there was any question about whether I was going to try to resist him again, I think my lack of movement answers it. I'm not going anywhere until he kicks me out. He's won me over completely. I am his.

  I watch as he peels his shirt off, a delicious wall of muscle greeting me. It's strange seeing him like this, like I'm watching a movie—not a part of what's going on at all. Guys like him aren't meant for girls like me. This doesn't feel real, and yet it is. He's just finished pleasuring me, and now he's taking off his clothes, preparing to get his. My clit pulses at the thought. It's been close to seven years since I last slept with anyone, and I'm about to give myself to him. Practically a stranger. What's wrong with me?

  I'll blame it on pent-up sexual frustration and sort out my emotions later. For now, there's no way I'm giving this up. I've earned it. From being good for so long. For holding out for...love that doesn't exist. I can have this fuck. This one night with a devastatingly gorgeous man. I can allow myself to enjoy myself, even if subconsciously I don't think it's right.

  Lucian climbs off of the bed and unbuttons his pants. The way he's looking at me is telling that he's putting on a show. He wants me to see every inch of his naked body, to soak it in before it's on top of me, claiming me, inside of me. The thought is maddening, that I'm going to make love to this sexy God of a man. Not make love, but have sex. Making love is reserved for those you love. Having sex is...

  Stop it, Amy. You're ruining it. Just enjoy it for what it is.

  His pants come down, followed by his boxers. Good Lord! My excitement turns into apprehension as I lay my eyes on the monster that springs out to greet me. He's bigger than David was. By a lot. Holy crap! It's like a weapon of mass destruction.

  When he finishes undressing, he crawls back up onto the bed. My eyes are fixed on his cock, my stomach churning with a mixture of fear and arousal. It's been a long time since I've seen one. And I've definitely never seen one this big in person. It is kind of nice though, thick and long and veiny with the slightest curve to the right. Perfectly proportioned with a smooth helmet and heavy balls that aren't too saggy. It may seem superficial, but I have a thing about saggy balls. His aren't though. I like them.

  He carefully maneuvers his way between my legs, and my heartbeat begins to speed up as I realize that this is actually going to happen. We're really going to have sex.

  Lucian leans over me, placing one hand next to my armpit and grabbing the base of his shaft with the other hand. Internally, I'm panicking, still not sure if this is really what I want. He's sexy and perfect, but I'm worried about what this is going to do to me emotionally.

  “You're not going to put on a condom?” I blurt out the second I feel his glans nudge between my pussy lips.

  He stalls, quirking an eyebrow at me as if the very notion is offensive. “We're both clean, and you're on birth control.”

  My mouth falls agape. “You remembered that I'm on birth control, but you couldn't remember my name from last night?”

  “I just remember the important stuff.”

  What an asshole thing to say right before you're about to have sex with someone. “Get off.” I glare at him.

  “Oh, I plan to.”

  “No. Get off of me.” I bring my bound hands around and shove at his chest.

  He doesn't budge. In fact, he just stares at me blankly for a moment before forcing my hands back over my head. I don't struggle.

  “I was just playing, okay?” He gives me a serious look.

  “It wasn't funny.” I seethe.

  He drops himself down onto his elbow beside me, though his body is still hover
ing. He smiles, that infuriatingly charming smile. “You're kind of feisty.”

  I want to tell him that he's kind of an asshole, but I don't.

  “You want me to fuck you. I can see it in your eyes.” He lets go of his dick to caress my face. The gesture is less than romantic. In fact, it's so ripe with arrogance that I want to huff. He must have caught the disdain in my expression, because he grabs my jaw and forces me to look at him. “Hey, if you really don't want this, we don't have to do it. I don't want you to feel forced. But please know that this is what I want.”

  I feel like I've backed myself up against a wall by giving in to him too much. If I reject him now, my chance of scoring him as a client is as good as gone. I need to do this, for everyone at Environ Design.

  “It's fine,” I reply halfheartedly.

  He kisses me on the forehead and props himself up on his arm again, reclaiming his pre-fucking stance. As soon as I feel his tip touching my pussy lips, the internal panicking continues.

  This is wrong. No, this is right. I want this. No, I don't. I'm just doing it to make sure I secure the contract. You're doing it because you haven't been laid in forever, and you're never going to get a chance like this again.

  Everything melts away when he pushes forward. His dick doesn't penetrate me completely. His glans just pops inside, stretching me, bringing me back to reality.

  “Jesus Christ, you're tight.” He looks at me with disbelief, as if he expected me to be some loose hoebag, which only makes me feel worse.

  I don't know what to say, but I'm sure that my expression speaks volumes. I remember sex being uncomfortable, at least my first time, but not like this. It feels like he's ripping me apart, but I know it will be better once he's all the way in.

  “Don't stop,” I tell him between gritted teeth.

  He rests his forehead against mine, takes a deep breath, and then plunges all the way into me. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Fire rages between my legs, rivaling the pain that I experienced when I twisted my ankle. I'm so full of cock that there's no room for anything else.

  “Does it hurt?” he asks, looking at me with concern.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  My eyes are brimming with tears—a mix of physical and emotional pain. He cares for me, yet he doesn't. Cares for me the way one human being cares for another. As a woman, I'm nothing to him. Just a conquest. I'm not sure why that thought bothers me so much right now, but it does. I feel like one of those pathetic mopey girls that loses her virginity to the guy who isn't the man of her dreams and then begins crying immediately afterward. Except that I'm not a virgin. I did lose my virginity to the man of my dreams. What's happening now is just irrational.

  He begins moving on top of me, and I dig my nails into the leather of his belt to help distract me from the pain. Hopefully, I don't ruin the belt, or he might not sign with me. That's probably what's really causing the emotional avalanche. I feel like everything that's happening between us is directly associated with my job. It makes me feel pathetic and desperate and powerless, all at the same time.

  He stops abruptly, and I gaze up at him. “You need to relax. Are you sure you're alright?”

  The tears I've been holding back spill over, and I let out a bellowing sob, which immediately makes him get off of me and pull me into his arms. My injured foot drags across the bed as he sits me up, and it only makes me cry harder. I feel so embarrassed and overwhelmed. I don't know what's wrong with me.

  “Shh. It's alright.” He holds me against his chest and strokes my hair. His heart is beating rapidly, like he's afraid. Maybe he thinks he forced me into having sex with him. I kind of want him to think that, even though it's not true. Nothing matters right now but getting all the poisonous tears out of my system.

  I cry for what feels like forever, and he comforts me the best that he can. What started out as a sexy afternoon has ended in an absolute nightmare. If he doesn't accept the contract, I won't blame him. This was supposed to be all about making things as stress-free for him as possible, and I ruined it. Again. Derrick and Tyra are going to be so disappointed in me.

  Lucian kisses me on top of the head. Even after I stop sobbing, he continues to hold me, stroking my hair and rubbing my back until I feel soothed and exhausted. I don't want this moment to end. Soon, things will become awkward and strained. I can't stay here forever though. I have to face the mistake I've made, the mistake of thinking I could just give myself to him and that everything would be alright afterward. It's not alright. I compromised myself too much. And all for what, a bonus that I don't really need. Friends who will eventually forgive me.

  “I'm sorry.” I pull away from his chest and wriggle free from his belt to rub my eyes with the back of my hand.

  He takes the belt and tosses it off of the bed, then continues rubbing my back. “Don't worry about it. I know I might have come off a little intense.”

  “It's not that.” I shake my head. Since I already screwed up getting the contract, I might as well gush. “It's just that this contract is so important to my company. I swear I didn't plot this, make that appointment with you at Flesh to make sure that you'd sign with me. It was all a freak coincidence, and when I saw you, I just...” my voice trails off. I'm so frazzled that I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say.

  “I believe you,” he tells me, though I'm not sure it's the truth.

  My shoulders slump, and I sniffle. “I didn't come here trying to seduce you. And I didn't mean for this to happen. I just...”

  “Are you sure?” He pinches the side of my plunging neckline that's not holding up my exposed breast. It's a reminder of how distressed I look, and I instantly move to shove my tit back in my shirt and cover up.

  “I know what it must look like,” I sigh.

  “Hey. No more of that.” He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him and kissing the back of my head. “You're going to stay here tonight, and I'm going to take care of you. I don't want you getting off of this bed, do you understand?”

  The thought that he's going to hold me hostage all night fills me with dread. This isn't what I wanted at all.

  He moves from behind me, and I expect him to advance on me again. To my surprise though, his cock has already gone soft. A different type of disappointment assaults me, like I let him down. Like I'm not good enough. It makes my eyes water again, and I mewl softly, feeling absolutely pathetic.

  “Lay down.” Lucian guides my head down to the pillow, then he takes the other pillow and props it up under my injured foot, elevating it. “I'll be right back,” he says before disappearing out the door.

  If I wanted to escape, now would be my chance. I'm too weak though, both emotionally and physically, completely drained from everything that's just happened. All I want to do is die, but that's not an option. I'm stuck in this horrific moment, trapped in a stranger's house, going to be forced to suck up my feelings and finish what we started. This isn't over. He's going to want sex again. That's just how guys are. He's selfish and doesn't really give a shit about what this is doing to me.

  I lie on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, hating myself for not having the strength to leave. This was a mistake. All just a big mistake, starting with going to Flesh.

  Lucian returns, still buck naked, and loaded up with stuff. He has two pillows under one arm, crutches in both of his hands with a washcloth dangling precariously from one of them, and an ice pack in his teeth. The bizarre sight of him makes my tears dry up as he approaches me with the items, sets the crutches down next to the bed, and goes to work doing a better job of propping my foot up and then covering it with the wash cloth and putting the ice pack on top of it.

  “R.I.C.E.,” he tells me, as if I didn't already know. The only thing missing is the compression.

  “Thanks,” I reply awkwardly as he finishes up what he's doing and crawls into bed beside me.

  “You rest
now.” He turns off the lamp on the bedside table and carefully pulls me into his arms.

  It feels weird being nuzzled up against him, but I quickly grow used to it. For a while, I lay there with him in the darkness, listening to his breathing and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, thinking that I shouldn't get too comfortable because any minute he's going to switch modes and start trying to seduce me again. He doesn't though. The hours tick by, and exhaustion gives way to sleep. I fight it, for as long as I can, but eventually I have to surrender, allowing myself to pass out in Lucian's arms.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The morning comes earlier than expected. I wake to a bright light, causing my eyes to flutter open and my mind to fight for clarity. It takes a moment to realize where I am, to recognize the face smiling down at me. Lucian sets a breakfast tray over my lap before I even have time to fully wake up. On top of it is a plate with scrambled eggs, two breakfast sausages, a glass of orange juice, and a small bowl of fresh fruit.

  “Rise and shine,” he says, though his voice sounds strained.

  “Thanks.” I groggily pull myself up into a sitting position. Sometime in the middle of the night, he must have put a blanket on me, because my legs are now covered. I can't help but wonder what else happened after I went to sleep, not that I think it's anything devious.

  “How's your ankle?” He sits down at the foot of the bed, pulls the blanket off of my ankle, and gives it a quick examination.

  I wiggle it, for good measure. The pain that was there yesterday has subsided greatly. “It feels better. I think I'm good to go.”

  “Good.” He stands. “Because as soon as you eat, you need to go. I have work.” Lucian gestures to the door. Considering that he's only wearing a pair of sweatpants, I'm guessing that I don't need to be in too much of a rush.

  “Alright,” I reply, not knowing what else to say.

  “You can borrow the crutches if you need to.” He points to them as he walks towards the door.