LUCA (Leaves of a Maples Book 5)

by Haley Jenner

  His tongue peeks out, dragging through the lips I can’t pull my gaze away from. My feet move without instruction, closing the gap between us before I’ve realized.

  The party inside the restaurant continues without us. Raucous laughter and loud music like a quiet melody against the explicit beat of our heavy breathing.

  My body takes over, and before I can second guess myself, I’m on my knees, yanking at his belt with a desperation I only seem to feel around him.

  “Watch’ya doin’, Frank?” Eyes hooded, they flame with desire. There’s no animosity in his tone, only lazy curiosity.

  Unzipping his pants, I slide my palm into his boxers, cupping the part of his body I’ve longed to touch again for months. “Making you a believer.”

  He flicks his smoke to the ground, beer still clutched heavily in his hand as he watches me peel down his boxers, letting the hard length of his cock fall into my palm.

  Fist gritted along his beer bottle, I’m surprised it hasn’t shattered in his hand, glass piercing his hand with the strength in his grip.

  “Unicorns,” he rasps.

  I nod, teeth catching my bottom lip in a rough caress. “Unicorns.”

  Pushing his cock against his stomach, I drag my tongue purposefully along the underside, tasting the silk of his skin.

  Luca’s head thumps against the wall at his back. I watch his nostrils flare through my lashes, his jawline tensing like cut steel.

  Kissing my way back down, I pull his balls into my mouth, letting my tongue dance around him.

  He chokes on the groan working its way up his throat, the sound a strangled plea for more.

  I don’t deny him.

  Only this time it’s his cock that I swallow. His tip hits the back of my throat. I pull back, my tongue massaging him the entire time.

  “Use me, Luc,” I hum against him. “Fuck my mouth.”

  His eyes close over in pain, his breath escaping from his nostrils in a stuttered echo.

  I drop back down again, his head kissing the very back of my throat once more. I gag. Only slightly, but the small cough that leaks out fires something deep within him.

  The beer bottle drops.

  His big hand buries itself into my hair.

  His narrow hips thrust forward.

  “Do that again.” He pushes his cock into my mouth. Tentatively at first.

  I hum my approval, the sound thwarted by his cock, making it sound like a needy purr.

  “Wider, Frankie,” he bites out, the hand in my hair tightening, pushing me down harder this time.

  Yes. This is what I want. Luca St. Kelly unhinged. Lost to his lust. Lost to me.

  He thrusts forward once, twice, slowly pulling out to feel my tongue lick against the strong line of his shaft.

  “Relax your throat,” he grunts out, so overtaken with his need to come, the words are scarcely audible.

  I do as he asks, letting go, opening my throat up to him as he drives forward again.

  Deeper.

  Harder.

  I cough.

  He groans. “Fuck yes. New favorite sound, you choking on my dick.”

  His heavy-lidded gaze watches me intently as his wet cock pulls from my body only to push forward once again.

  My eyes water.

  I gasp.

  And in truth, I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

  Baring my teeth, I let them caress his cock lightly. His whole body convulses, bending him at the waist in pleasure.

  “Jesus, Frank.”

  His sweet saltiness leaks into my mouth, the prelude to his orgasm wetting my tongue.

  The roughness of his hand cups my jaw crudely. “Swallow me,” he demands just as he powers forward again, pausing to let his throbbing cock release into my mouth, his cum sliding down my throat in quick, fired bursts.

  When the last of his orgasm has wrung from his body, he pulls out, dragging his tip against my lips, decorating them with the remnants of his cum before tucking himself back into his boxers.

  Standing, I lick my lips, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches on.

  “I now see the fascination with unicorns.”

  A loud bark of laughter rolls from me without warning. His follows shortly after.

  His dies off faster than mine, his expression unreadable.

  “We should get back inside,” he murmurs, voice much the same as the look on his face. Indecipherable. Leaning down, he picks up the beer bottle he’d disregarded so eagerly only minutes ago. He waits for me to precede him, gaze averted the entire time.

  I swallow down my hurt pride, worse that it still tastes like his cum mixed with a potent cocktail of his regret.

  He walks into the apartment as silently as we walked home. Jake and Aubrey, drunk in love didn’t notice his desolate mood, but I certainly did. The way his hands were stuffed into his pockets, the arch of his shoulders against the non-existent wind. He’d throw smiles out when it was expected, but they weren’t real. The tightness in the gesture awkward to look at. He said a grand total of one word. One. About three seconds ago when we said goodbye to the lovebirds next door. Night. That was it. Not even a wave to echo the sentiment.

  I watch his jacket hit the bed, his ass dropping to the mattress a split second later.

  I overstepped. That has to be it. Of course it is. We had an agreement. A promise, solidified through a fist bump to ignore the mounting attraction we seemed to share. It was for the best.

  For the group.

  Our family.

  Just likely not for us.

  I took the whole unicorn thing too far. God, what was I thinking. We’d agreed, together, that we couldn’t get involved. Then I go and drop to my knees, swallowing his cock like it was my last meal.

  He’s gonna kick me out. This is what this is. I broke our pact, and now I have to face the consequences.

  Fuck. I could apologize. Assure him it won’t happen again. That it was the booze. But we both know that’d be a lie. We’ve pushed past that threshold one too many times.

  Gone is the momentary lapse in judgment excuse to lean back on. We’ve swiftly moved into a habit.

  A delicious, addictive, satisfying as all hell habit.

  We were sponsors. Holding the other one up. But I fell into my vice, and that’s not healthy. Not for either of us.

  Kicking off my heels, I work to avoid the suffocating discomfort radiating from his frame.

  Avoidance.

  That’s my plan.

  Denial.

  That too.

  A silent cease and desist notice.

  Moving toward the bathroom, I act the part; calm and unaffected when inside the hurricane of my emotions is wreaking havoc.

  “I wanna fuck you.”

  My feet stop, the hand pulling at the bobby pins in my hair pausing. I misheard. I had to have. No possible way the words I just heard were the ones that came out of his mouth.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  Glancing over my shoulder, our eyes connect, and the sigh he lets out is an intoxicating cocktail of irritation and regret.

  I let my body turn, leaning against the doorjamb of the bathroom. Elbows dropping to his knees, Luca shakes his head, picking at the leather band on his wrist in defeat. “So fucking bad.”

  He laughs, but the sound lacks humor, drifting off on a growl that has my feet itching to move closer. I don’t though. I remain statue still, shocked into silence.

  “I look at you, and… it consumes my fucking mind, Frankie.” His fingers tap his temple, emphasizing his point.

  “Like now.” His voice drops, eyes looking up at me through hooded lids. “Your pretty little mouth open in shock, fuck, all I can think about is dragging the wet tip of my dick against it. Again. Painting your lips with my cum, listening to that sound you make when you choke on my dick.”

  The sound of my throat trying to swallow resonates in the quiet space. His liquid stare drops to the column of my neck, a hand coming up to rub his nape.

&
nbsp; “You bend over and I wonder whether you’ve ever been fucked in the ass. Have you?” he asks, not waiting for me to respond. “Because I’m hoping, fucking praying that you haven’t. Cuz I’ll be able to give you that, inch my granite cock inside your tight virgin ass and watch you squirm.”

  I’m wet. Drenched. My thighs quaking with the want to slide to the ground. My legs feel like they’re going to give out, but I can’t move. I’m frozen on the spot and Luca seems acutely aware of that.

  “I dream about tasting your pussy. Fuck. I wake up wishing you were sitting on my face, grinding your sweet spot over my mouth. Makes it harder,” he smiles, “knowing you’re sleeping only a few small steps away.”

  I let myself return his small smile, knowing that the fantasy he just spoke of, is one that wakes me each and every night.

  “Then I think about letting loose on your pussy. Fucking you so hard, my cock’s kissing parts of you that ain’t ever been touched before. My hand wrapped around your delicate little neck, feeling you struggle for breath.”

  My feet find the traction to move then, inching closer to him.

  “Am I an asshole, Frankie?” he questions, lifting his face to look at me. “Tell me I am. Tell me I'm a fucking prick for putting you in this position. Asking for a part of you I shouldn't be allowed… if I'm not willing, not capable of giving you more. Of giving you the love to go with it."

  Silence sits heavily between us, thoughts and wants and promises tangled up in the quiet.

  “Tell me I’m an asshole,” he breaks first, the thick burr of his voice vibrating along the rough catch in his throat. “Tell me I’m an asshole for asking you to let me use you.”

  His words are ice, desperate in their plea. But his eyes are fire, begging for me to disagree.

  "Who said I wanted love?"

  The despondent look in his eyes quake with hope. With an unfiltered show of relief.

  "Luc, my heart was recently shattered into a million and one pieces. Falling down that rabbit hole again isn't something I have any interest in."

  A tip of his finger drags along my rib cage, trailing down to the thin material covering my belly button and pausing. "What are you saying?" He speaks to my torso, the rough catch in his throat showcasing the desire coursing through his body.

  "That I want you in the same way you want me. I look at you and everything in my body tightens with need. I throb. I ache. My dreams wake me in the middle of the night, my body begging for relief."

  I watch the thick bob of his Adam's apple, his dark eyelashes brushing his cheeks on an extended blink. "Do you touch yourself?" he whispers, tongue dipping out to wet his bottom lip. "Tell me you do. Tell me I'm not alone, that when I fuck my fist while images of you give life to some of my depraved fantasies, that you're fucking yourself thinking'a me."

  My clit pulsates between my thighs, my core a buzzing knot ready to unravel at the barest touch.

  Words fail me, the only sound breaking from my lips a breath so ragged my body shakes.

  Luca's large palms meet my calves, his fingers dragging upward, caressing the skin of my thighs. His touch pushes my dress over my ass, baring my skin to the cool draft in the apartment. The contrast is delicious; the cold air scattering goosebumps along my skin, his touch like fire, soothing the bite of the cold, heating my blood. His hands squeeze, kneading the flesh of my ass.

  "Say the words, Francesca." His hands move higher, forcing my dress over my hips, baring my skin to his omnivorous gaze. "Tell me you play with this pretty little pussy while thinking about me." A single finger hooks into the line of my thong as he speaks, following it around to my front, only then pulling down, taking his fill of my bare pussy.

  "I fuck myself thinking about you," I comply.

  "You let anyone else's cock in here?" His hand dips into my panties, three fingers sliding gently against my swollen lips, teasing along the welcoming wetness.

  I shake my head, the tip of my tongue caught between my teeth.

  "No?" he wonders in appreciation.

  I swallow. "No."

  Two fingers push inside of me, his open palm pressing onto the throbbing drum of my clit. "Good girl. If we're doing this, if you're gonna let me use this evil little body, it's me and only me."

  "Only you," I moan, undulating my hips before finding the only semblance of restraint I have left, my hand gripping his wrist. His head lifts slowly, a challenging brow rising in arrogant query. "That means all of this" —I gesture over his frame— "is off limits to everyone but me. Capiche?"

  Flicking his wrist, my hand falls away, letting him continue his torturous assault. "You’re the only one I want, Crazy Girl," he accedes, a third finger joining the others.

  "Take your dress off." He pushes at the material with his unoccupied hand. I oblige. Eagerly. My hands pulling at the stretchy material, yanking it over my head and off my arms in a flurry. Standing in only my panties, currently pulled low to accommodate his hand, my strapless bra and heels. Luca growls loudly. "Fuck, I've been dreaming of seeing you naked since the moment I first saw you," he drawls.

  Without warning, he slides off the bed, landing on his knees with a heavy thud. "Take your bra off," he murmurs, his focus on his hand fisting my panties, dragging them down my legs. He refuses to remove the hand buried against my pussy, struggling one-handed.

  As the small scrap of lace hits my ankles, I lift one foot, then the other, flicking them to the side to leave me completely naked.

  "Jesus," he groans. "Even my mind couldn't do you justice. Epitome of perfection." The words are spoken softly, as if to himself, eyes skating over my bare skin. I feel worshipped. Wanted in a way well beyond mere attraction. He gazes upon my body with an awe that borders on obsession. A carnal craving that he'd lay down his life to relieve.

  Luca St. Kelly makes me feel powerful in the same way I know I'm at his mercy.

  A submissive control, a dominant surrender. I am his, as he is mine. He'll use me as he so wishes, but only ever to bring me pleasure, to make me feel his reverence.

  The smooth line of his tanned arm lifts my leg with a gentleness that seems so out of place on the hard and harsh need shooting from him in waves. The thick veins in his arms pulsate with his scarcely held restraint, and my hand moves on its own accord, coasting over the defined lines in tender ardency.

  From the very first moment I laid eyes on Luca St. Kelly, I was lost, vulnerable and searching for anything to show me the promise of what life could offer me once again. My heart was broken, my soul hollow, and I couldn't imagine a time when I'd feel something other than the nagging weight of misery ever again. Then my eyes hit his and the world dropped away. It was so predictably cliché, but it's true. There was a spark so fucking bright, I wondered how I ever possibly saw the world so dark. It was fire; blazing and dangerous. I took the match offered and I let it ignite. I capitalized on the way my body reacted, and I'll never be sorry I did. Maybe one day I'll open my heart enough to tell him that he saved me. That he was the universe's vow that good things were promised. He was my divine intervention. The olive leaf that I grabbed onto without a moment’s hesitation, a last ditch effort to stop myself from sinking. He looked as broken down as me in that bar. Big, beautiful and well beyond the pale of possibility. But sad, adrift in a world that he struggled to find reason in. Then our eyes connected, and the world seemed to shift. The troubles I felt drowned by dropped away, leaving only the most beautiful man I'd ever seen.

  Rising up higher on his knees, he hooks my leg over his shoulder, my ankle resting on the bed. My hand twists into the messy waves of his hair, stabilizing my footing as I stand bared before him, open for his lust filled perusal.

  "Pretty pussy, Crazy Girl." A small smirk plays at the corner of his lips, his hot breath fanning across the naked skin of my slit.

  Pulling his fingers from my eager body, I tense my muscles, clamping down on his exit. A soft bark of laughter breaks from his lips, his eyes closing as he moves his hand upward, tracing my
nipples with the wet touch of his fingers. He watches his assault, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Moving higher, his gaze focuses on my lips, currently parted in anticipation.

  I predict his movement before he makes it, sucking his fingers into my mouth the moment they touch my lips.

  He growls. I moan. An intermingled chorus of raw need. Fingers falling from my mouth, they pull along my bottom lip, dragging the entire length of my body just as the first swipe of his tongue meets my clit.

  My knee buckles. My hands fist in his hair. My mouth opens on a choked scream.

  Oral is not a delicate endeavor for Luca. Savage. Wild. Animalistic. The only words to describe the way he eats me.

  He’s untamed. The more I cry out, the more bestial he becomes. Face buried deep in my pussy, he devours every aching inch of my body.

  Hand sliding along my raised thigh, he grabs a full handful of ass, squeezing so hard I flinch. I pull at his hair, push him harder against my core. He eats it up, humming his approval, the sound vibrating against me as two fingers dip inside of me.

  Chapter Ten

  Luca

  God. I’m a fuckwit.

  The worst kind.

  Selfish.

  Worse still, I don’t give a shit.

  How could I? Look at her. Fucking look at her. Even your ultimate fantasies couldn’t do her justice.

  Fuck unicorns. Francesca Walker is the only graceful creature I want to tame. The mythical beast is a legend, a fantasy created in antiquity. There’s nothing make-believe about the woman in front of me. Frankie, she’s as real as they come.

  I’ve been distracted by thoughts of tasting her pussy from that single moment my eyes met hers in a crowded bar. I’ve been a slave by my fantasies. My inability to escape my depraved thoughts itching, scratching at my willpower for months.

  I never imagined she would want me in the way I do her. The only way I can allow myself to have her.

  Physically.

  Detached.

  No deeper feeling. No expectations. More importantly, a promise of nothing but this.