by Nikki Sloane
Confidence rolled off of Luka like he knew with absolute certainty what he was doing. As if he understood just how much grip in my hair I could take. His teeth were less subtle this time on my neck. The sharp stubble dotting his jawline grazed against my skin and, when I instinctively tried to move away, his fist clenched tighter in my hair, holding me in place. Keeping me from escaping.
My breath raged through my parted lips as his other hand was on my hip, yanking me so our lower bodies collided, and I could feel something hard pressing against my stomach, something I was sure wasn’t his fake gun.
“Am I hurting you?” His dark voice rang out between my gasps for breath.
I tried to shake my head, but his hold wouldn’t allow it. I had no choice but to use words, so I said it in a shaky voice. “No.”
“Good.”
His hand glided down my hip, over the fabric of my skirt, all the way past the hem and onto the bare skin of my thigh. I bit down on my lip and closed my eyes as his hand crept inward, sliding toward my center. It inched up, raising my skirt with it. Up, and up . . .
I had to stop this before it went any further. My head was buzzing from the alcohol and his kiss, and I didn’t want to make a decision I’d regret later, even though my body was eager for his hand to continue its journey north of my hemline.
Luka paused when I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, urging him to stop. “Wait,” I whispered. I’d stopped him just a fraction of an inch from my panties, which was closer than any man had gotten in a long time.
His gaze locked on to mine, and then his fingers twitched. They reached up just enough to touch me through the damp cotton covering the most intimate part of myself. I bucked, but remained ensnared as Luka’s captive.
He drew back and seemed pleased with my reaction. “I’m gonna lock the door,” he said. His voice was so deep and quiet, it was almost a growl. “You’ll go sit on the couch.”
Chapter
Three
Once again, his strict tone made it impossible to do anything but obey, and yet my anxiety leapt to a whole new level. You can fool around a little bit, the wicked, tequila-enhanced voice in my head whispered. He didn’t tell you to get on the bed.
I went to the couch and sank down until the leather was cold against the backs of my legs. My hands tensed into fists around the hem of my skirt, holding it in place as Luka turned the small dial on the doorknob. I couldn’t hear the click of the lock sliding in place, but I felt it. It snapped through my body like a bolt of electricity.
As he stalked toward me, he swayed. No, wait, was that me? The tequila was working fast. Luka’s expression shuttered, and then he licked his lips. Was it intentional? Was I a meal he was about to devour? I crossed my legs beneath the skirt, feeling twitchy and weirdly achy.
My head ticked back with each step he took so I could keep looking up at him.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked in a light voice.
My hand flew to my face, confirming it was true. I was buzzing hard and had reached the first level of my drunkenness. Phase one, the uncontrollable smiling.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly and tried to look sober.
Luka didn’t seem to buy it as he sat beside me. Right beside me. As his weight came down on the couch, I fell into him, one hand bracing myself on his thigh. Beneath the fabric of his pants, the muscle was hard, and I stroked the length. Wait, what was I doing? Petting him? I ripped my hand back, embarrassed.
He leaned in so his lips were by my ear, and he gave one of my ponytails a small tug. “Are you getting shy on me?”
My cheeks burned hot. I was, but didn’t want to admit it. Every breath I took was a struggle to sound normal and not rushed. I’d been metering it out, hoping he couldn’t hear how nervous or excited he made me.
“No,” I answered. “I’m fine.” I commanded myself to touch him casually, and rested my hand on his thigh once again. “I haven’t been thinking about this for the last two years or any—”
I snapped my mouth shut, horrified. Shit! I was never drinking tequila again. How in the world had I said that out loud?
“Have you?” he asked. His breath ruffled the wisps of hair over my ears, drawing more shivers. His hand found my knee and gently urged me to uncross my legs. “You’ve thought about touching me?” His fingertips skated along the inside of my thigh, and I watched in disbelief as my legs fell open. Encouraging him.
I was reeling and he took advantage. This time I didn’t stop him when his fingers went all the way up my skirt. They settled right at the junction of my legs, and I flushed hot. Could he feel how badly I was turned on? It was so embarrassing, but I couldn’t stop him. All I could do was stare, just as I’d done two years ago in that classroom.
Yet it wasn’t only the environment and situation that were different, it was Luka as well. His face was hauntingly serious, like he’d aged ten years from that final day in December when I’d last seen him.
“What happened to you?” I asked in a whisper. The alcohol had disrupted my ability to filter anymore.
His eyebrow lifted. “What?”
“You look different.”
His fingers stirred and applied pressure, pulling a gasp from me, but he didn’t slow down. “Not as much as you.” The pads of his fingers danced and manipulated, each stroke bringing foreign pleasure. So different than my own touch, and he shifted closer as if making himself comfortable. “I never got to see this perfect body you were hiding under all those clothes.”
“Oh, God,” I moaned, unable to contain it. “I’m not perfect.”
“Tell me you weren’t five minutes early to every class. Say you didn’t care how you looked, or how neat your homework was,” he said. “Even your scratch notes were clean. Go on and lie to me.”
My body reveled in his touch even though my mind was chaos. I endured his teasing, unable to do anything but process. Holy crap, it felt so good. My head tipped up, thudding onto the back of the couch as he touched me. Blood rushed loudly in my ears, drowning out the sound of the music pounding from below us, and my eyes fell closed.
Was I that obvious to him? It was important to me that I looked my best. That I always tried my best.
“You like this?” Luka’s voice seemed to invade my head.
There was no reason to lie, he could feel how terribly excited I was. “Yes.”
Pleasure built in waves, each bringing more heat to the fire. His two fingers rubbed aggressively on my clit and I choked back a moan.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
I lifted my head and found his gaze. Luka was turned, leaning into me, his face only a breath away. His forearm disappeared beneath the plaid fabric of my skirt, but the movement of his wicked hand was obvious.
I swallowed a breath as his fingers curled around the crotch of my panties and pulled them to the side. His deep eyes studied me like a hunter watching his trapped prey. His fingers stroked over my slick, heated flesh, which made my heart gallop and my hands clench into a death grip on my skirt.
His finger eased inside.
To the first knuckle, and then he pushed deeper. My mouth dropped open, rounding into a silent, “Oh.” The stretch of his intrusion was pleasurable, but the idea of it was infinitely hotter. The man I had lusted after for what felt like forever, was now between my legs, touching me. Possessing me.
Luka’s thick finger retreated and slowly pressed inside me once more. I whimpered. It was quiet, but he certainly heard it. His gaze hooded, making him look intoxicated. I had the strange feeling he was drunk off of me, and not just the alcohol. At least, I hoped.
“Tell me,” he said, “what you thought about me doing to you.”
It was hard to do that. My brain was sluggish and foggy, swirling from the tequila. I felt reckless and stupid, and unable to think of a reason why I shouldn’t tell him the truth.
“This,” I whispered. “You touching me.”
“Yeah?”
He kept his finger buried ins
ide as he moved over me, kneeling between my legs. He smoothed his other hand down the front of his pants, massaging himself for a moment, but he didn’t keep it there long. It slipped around the back of my neck, cupping at the nape. Something dark and dangerous flickered in his eyes. A second finger worked to join his other inside my body.
The warm hand on my neck yanked, hauling me up to him abruptly. His mouth crashed against mine, and it drove me down further on his fingers. It stung. I wasn’t used to so much, and not so suddenly. My hands flattened on his shoulders to push him back, but then the fingers were moving, just as his tongue was moving in my mouth. It was too hot to stop him, and the sting gave way to pleasure.
“What else?” he asked between immobilizing kisses.
“What else, what?” Everything was spinning when I closed my eyes, so I had no choice but to leave them open. I’d moved onto phase two of drunkenness, the spins.
“What else do you want me to do, Addison?” He moved at a leisurely tempo while his gaze was fixated on my mouth.
I couldn’t vocalize. I was far too shy to speak them out loud. Instead, I curled my grip into the meaty parts of his arms, digging my nails in. I couldn’t say anything, but I no longer had shame or anxiety about how I was acting. His touch liberated the wildness I always kept tamped down. I wasn’t worried he knew I fantasized about him, although I was certain regret would come later. Not now, though. All I could do was marvel at how good he made me feel.
Electricity roved over my skin as he increased the pace his fingers slid in and out. My knees trembled and locked around his hips, doing so without any authorization from me. Luka’s palm inched down my neck with each deep thrust he gave. I both wanted and didn’t want him to touch me where he was headed. My body ached for it, but my chest was heaving and he’d be able to feel how hard my heart was pounding.
His soft, damp lips were pressed to mine, swallowing my moan, and then he was lifting my breast. The weight of it filled his hand, and a thumb slid back and forth, teasing the nipple through my shirt and bra.
I could barely breathe. Luka’s hands worked flawlessly, touching me just as I wanted them to, holding me on the cusp of something new and interesting. I’d never been with a confident partner before, and now I was sure I didn’t want to go back.
His fingers captured my nipple between the layers of fabric and pinched. The tension built as he squeezed harder and harder, but his tongue filled my mouth and kept me quiet when he closed in on pain. It was a weird sensation as his pinch grew hot and achy. I . . . liked it. I wanted to know how much more I could take.
Yet it grew past the point of tolerable. I inhaled sharply when it became too much, and both his lips and his pinch were gone, making me sway in his absence. Luka’s expression was deadly serious, as if deep in concentration.
“Oh!” I bucked when the pad of his thumb circled above where his fingers were driving. It was fireworks. Bliss sparked and flared, and made me crazy with need. It had to hurt, how I was digging my fingernails into his flesh, but he said nothing. There was no indication in his expression that I was hurting him.
His lips parted to draw in a single breath, and then he slowly blew it out, all while watching me squirm beneath him.
“Shit,” I moaned under my breath.
The corner of his mouth curled up. Luka liked this reaction. His fingers slowed to a stop but stayed inside, lingering. Was he judging me, and more importantly, did I pass whatever test he was putting me through? He withdrew his fingers and they trailed up through my slit. “Did you think about me putting my mouth here?”
I jolted. I had, but I was too nervous to say it.
His face hardened, like he was annoyed I hadn’t answered him. “Open your mouth.”
It was easy to do since my mouth fell open on his command. And then his wet fingers were there, smearing my own taste on my lips. He shoved them inside and I closed my mouth around them, causing Luka’s nostrils to flare. He pulsed the fingers in and out, simulating how he most likely wanted me to use my mouth on him.
The salty, slightly sweet taste of myself wasn’t unpleasant, but the action . . . It was so dirty, I shuddered. He leaned in and set his mouth against mine, tasting me in more than one way. When had I surrendered to him so completely? Was it that first moment he’d kissed me, or before, when I’d agreed to another round of blackjack downstairs? Maybe it had been from the very beginning. My crush on him had been intense, but that made sense to me. I didn’t half-ass anything in my life, so why would my infatuation with him be any different?
“Answer me.” It was quiet, but firm from him. “Did you think about me going down on you?”
“Sort of.”
Confusion flooded his expression. This was not an answer he was anticipating. “What does that mean?”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see judgment in the dark eyes staring back at me, but the spinning was worse. So I set my gaze across the room, away from Luka. “I did, but I don’t know what that feels like.”
His broad shoulders tensed beneath my hands. “You don’t . . . ?” He took a breath. “Holy shit, you’re a virgin?”
He’d taken the small leap, but assumed correctly. I pressed my lips together and nodded quickly.
I’d had the opportunity to lose my V card once, on prom night, of all clichés. My timid boyfriend and I had parked at the marina, hidden behind the boats in dry-dock, and gotten into the back seat. Five minutes into the heavy makeout session, he’d blurted out the least romantic thing I’d expected.
“I’ve got a condom so we should fuck.”
The ensuing conversation was so uncomfortable, it hadn’t just ruined the evening, it had ruined our relationship. There’d been no prospects since that night. I’d gone on a few dates when I got to Randhurst, but there’d been no connection. No spark. Or we’d hit the roadblock of my inexperience and it weirded him out. Time only made me less confident in my ability to find a partner who’d be a good match. Someone intelligent, driven like me, and willing to deal with my social awkwardness.
My anxious gaze drifted back to Luka’s. Was he as disappointed as the other boys had been when they learned I’d never given it up?
No, he wasn’t disappointed.
He gave a wicked smile and looked thrilled. He straightened and his gaze slid down the length of my body. It came to rest exactly where his palms moved to, my knees. And then both began to work their way up my thighs.
“How?” he asked. “Why?”
“Why?” How was I going to explain? It didn’t matter, the tequila made me mouthy and I spoke without thought. “The guy I was with . . . didn’t deserve it.”
Luka’s pleased expression was even better than his displeased one. “Fuck, perfect,” he said. “Let me show you what it feels like.”
I snagged my bottom lip between my teeth as anxiety fluttered in my belly. His fingers were up my skirt, tugging at the waistband of my panties, urging them down.
“Wait, wait.” My hands flew out to stop his, but it didn’t work. He tugged one side down and then the other, working the panties toward my knees.
“Don’t worry, good girl,” he teased. “You can keep these on.”
I trembled as the black cotton panties were bunched at my knees, and the tremble was more pronounced when Luka guided me to lift one leg free of the fabric. The panties dropped down my calf and hung at my ankle, where he gave them a tug.
“See? Still on.” His expression was sinful.
I was aware I was in over my head, even as I reached the final stage of drunkenness—inability to organize thoughts. His warm palms pressed open my knees and he bent at the waist, lowering his face between my legs.
A trembling hand—my own—clamped over my lips to keep me quiet as he pushed my skirt out of his way. There was nowhere else to look but at the man licking his lips while he stared at my nakedness. It was indecent, and holy hell, he made me feel good. Desired like nothing else. He closed the last of the distance and claimed me with his mouth
.
My moan was loud, but quieted against my palm, when something warm and soft stroked me. I jolted. He did it again, and again, and each one wrung a new moan from my shaking body. It felt amazing. Better than amazing. I didn’t want him to ever stop.
I was gulping down air through my nose, and slapped my other palm on top of my mouth for further protection from getting too loud. My knees tried to close, but his hands were on the tops of my thighs, forcing them apart. Holding me open for him as he feasted.
The swirling tongue did nothing to help my spinning issue, nor did his lips closing and sucking on the tight bud at the center of my pleasure. I bucked and groaned into my hands, my back arching from the couch, only for me to slump back down against it.
It was abruptly cold as he sat back, taking the heat of his mouth with him. He stared at me with lust-heavy eyes, and his hand ran between my legs. “You’re so fucking wet.” The hand slid through my folds and smeared the wetness all along the inside of my thighs. “Christ, feel how bad this virgin pussy wants me.”
It was shocking, and although part of me was unhappy with the vulgarity, another part was terribly turned on. I’d thought Luka and I were the same, but in this room? We were polar opposites. All of my inexperience and shyness was a void he filled with his ultra-confidence, trapping me in his power.
He leaned back down and his warm breath spilled over me. That devious tongue slicked over my clit, fluttering with urgency, and heat built inside me at an exponential rate. Each stroke made me groan with choked pleasure. I peered into his eyes that were focused back on me intently, and my cheeks flushed red-hot. How could I watch him while he was doing something so intimate? Yet I couldn’t stop myself. My hands moved of their own accord, my nails gouging into his shoulders.
I closed in on the mounting release. It was . . . intense. It felt like an electrical surge as his relentless tongue cast me over the edge into a searing fire. When the shudders descended on my body, I let the waves carry me away. I should have cared about how he viewed me, but I didn’t. The only thing I could think about was the pleasure coursing along my spine, pulling me into bliss.