by Red Garnier
He rolled the tender nub of her sex under his tongue and fingered her slowly with two fingers, then he lifted his head and watched her hips eagerly, desperately, instinctively pump toward his hand.
God, but Peyton looked so beautiful. Her eyes at half-mast. Her naked body wet from the pool as she rolled her hips to his hand while Luke fondled her pretty little kitty. Shit, he just couldn’t make her beg as much as he wanted to.
He was too fucking turned on.
He set her back on trembling feet and as soon as he rose, he crushed her lips and devoured her mouth so she tasted herself. Her own taste made her shudder, and it drove him to the edge.
She gasped and cried out, “Luke, please fuck me now, I’m coming…”
“Wait until I tell you to,” he commanded.
But the tremors were shaking her. Peyton appeared ready to pop.
In one swift move, Luke shoved down his swim trunks, nudged her legs apart and boosted her up, pinned back against the wall, and he entered her.
Her wet heat gripped him, snug and tight, and it felt so good he immediately picked up a rhythm, plunging fast and hard, holding her dazed, lust-filled eyes with his and rasping, “Come, Peyton. Come with me now.”
She instantly came and screamed his name, Luke!
Her shudders vibrated along the length of his rod, and Luke had no choice but to let go, let her milk him out of every last drop. His eyes rolled back as he gripped Peyton’s body against his and continued to rub into her heated channel whispering, “Yeah…oh, yeah…”
He pumped like crazy and came for like a full minute, squeezed deliciously by her hot, beautiful pussy. Then, the motions of his hips gradually receded, and he could barely stay on his feet when he was done.
“Ah, fuck…” He collapsed against her, but he had the good sense to brace his hands at her sides, so he didn’t completely squish her.
He shook his dazed head and extracted himself out of her.
Panting, Peyton lowered her arms and hooked her still-tied hands around his nape, hugging him. And the gesture only…aw, hell, it was just sweet. She was sweet and so damned sexy that Luke wished she were a little kitten so he could keep her.
He scooped her up and carried her to the sofa, suddenly feeling protective of her. All these little bubbles rolling inside his chest when he saw her made him wonder if his wound wasn’t healing right, or if he’d gotten some water in his chest. Or some fucking air. But why the hell did he only feel it when those big ole eyes of hers met his?
She smiled up at him in the daze, and the little bubbles almost popped around his heart, she seemed so languorous and satisfied, like a woman well fucked.
He sat down with her, keeping her on his lap as he untied her arms, then he stretched the cord before her eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t whip you with this, hmm.”
She laughed, then she took it from him and tossed it aside to make room for herself in the crook of his arm and against him, setting her cheek on the good side of his chest. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He caressed her back and closed his eyes, feeling utterly relaxed in ways he hadn’t felt in years. “Go ahead and make me chase you again and we’ll find out,” he said lazily.
“You don’t scare me, Luke Alexander,” she murmured, and when Luke felt her soft lips graze across his, he opened up and captured them, not even straightening in his seat, but languorously drawing her tongue into his mouth and latching onto her. He felt like a baby with a pacifier, all he wanted was to be suckling something of Peyton’s.
He didn’t scare her?
Because Holy God, she scared the bejeezus out of him.
She tasted so damned good, smelled so darned great, and felt so fucking good, he didn’t ever want to leave this place.
Chapter Four
When Peyton awoke Sunday morning next to Luke’s warm, sleeping form, she was sore all over and so not ready to leave for Chicago, that she did something very unlike her.
Then again, this entire weekend she’d discovered a part of herself that she hadn’t really met until…Luke happened.
This morning, the old Peyton would have gotten ready to leave as soon as she woke up, since her flight departed in only a few hours and Peyton was always very punctual. But as her eyes settled on the very naked and very gorgeous golden sex devil asleep beside her, all this new Peyton wanted to do was jump him.
Aroused by the mere memory of all the things they’d done to each other yesterday and the day before, she slid her hands over his smooth chest and caressed every dent and nook and curve across his beautiful tanned torso, taking care not to disturb his bandage.
Her tummy tumbled in excitement when his healthy male body reacted to her touch. Luke got hard so easily, and she loved how her own body immediately responded to his erections. By the time she stroked her hands along his six-pack, his cock jutted from his body thick and proud and deliciously long, making her own body feel instantly lubricated.
Drooling over him, she bent to kiss each dented square of his abdomen, her pussy unbelievably soaked. He tasted salty like the ocean and Peyton flattened her tongue over him until she was sure she’d licked every pore.
She circled his nipple with her tongue and repeated the motion with the other, storing his taste to memory, having never in her life wanted a man so much. Wanted anything so much.
Feeling tremulous and mischievous, she traced a path of kisses all across his stomach and navel, heading straight to his pulsing, fully extended cock.
Luke shifted on the bed, his eyes still closed. He was bone tired from yesterday, she bet. She didn’t know a man could have sex so many times and still get an erection. Oh, God, but he was so wicked sometimes, and so lazy at others…but always, he was unique and fun, gentle but masterful.
A deep male groan encouraged her, and Peyton greedily seized the base of his cock with both hands, then bent to lick the tip of his cock, up and down and all around.
He made a low animalistic sound, and her breast tips throbbed in response. Feverishly she continued to swipe her tongue around the swollen head, then she bumped her lips around the ridge at the crown. Cradling his testicles in her palms, she fully enveloped his length and took him down her throat, as far as he would go—which lodged less than half of his cock in her mouth. He was so big, so thick, so utterly delicious.
She dragged her tongue all along the velvety smooth flesh, quivering in need, her pussy swelled and throbbing empty.
She moved her face a couple of inches backward and allowed his cock to leave her mouth only for a moment, so she could stroke her tongue along the folds and tip, then she dragged her mouth down the length of his rod again.
Luke stirred on the mattress, and when a low growl tore from deep in his throat, the sound rushed like a hot tremor down Peyton’s spine.
A drop of come emerged from the tip, and when she took the salty drop into her mouth, her sex gave a painful contraction.
Suddenly anxious, she straddled him and lowered her open sex onto his pulsing erection. Her inner muscles stretched to accommodate him, and when he was deeply seated inside her, with his cock stretching her walls until she thought she could bear no more, she anxiously rocked her hips.
She tried holding back a moan but just couldn’t trap it in her throat. Luke was so perfect and warm and muscled, and he was here lying naked in her bed, with his cock so swollen and thick she could barely fit him inside her. And Peyton was addicted to him, couldn’t bear thinking this would be their last time. Oh, God, he felt so good inside of her…
Imagine never feeling this again?
She mounted him faster at the thought, bouncing her hips against his motionless form, urging his cock deeper inside her. Another moan tore from her chest, his fullness completing her, the nub of her clit pressed and rubbing tightly against his pelvis.
Her fingers moved to pinch his nipples just as she bent down and ran her tongue over his lips. She purred at the plush feel of his mouth and followed its form with the tip of her tongue.
He gave her the most delicious kisses—she couldn’t get enough of them. Him.
Her climax built. The slow, delicious pressure tightened and coiled within her, then Luke lifted his hands to her hips and gripped her. Her heart shuddered as she drew back to look at him.
“Hey,” she breathed down at him. Her lips curled softly as she gazed into his heavy-lidded blue eyes. His expression was tight with desire as he watched her, and his hands were unyielding as he held down her hips so he could meet her thrusts.
And then she, Peyton Lane, the woman voted in high school as most likely to freeze a guy with a stare, cupped his face in her hands and kissed him as deep and well as she could, kissed him for all the kisses she hadn’t had in thirty years, shuddering when Luke kissed her back just as hard and with as much hunger.
He arched his hips to meet hers and pushed inside her with superhuman strength, his face contorted in ecstasy as he rammed his hips frantically against hers.
“Oh, Luke, please,” she gasped, clutching at his face and biting his lower lip.
She leaned back and rode him, her breasts bouncing as she circled and rolled her hips. His breathing was harsh and labored, and cords strained against his neck as he thrust continually inside her.
“You’re so good, baby, so tight,” he breathed. He watched her when she came, the waves rocking her completely. He came with her, stiffening the instant he watched her shudder in orgasm, and then he spasmed beneath her and rode those waves with his eyes closed, his face twisting in ecstasy.
She fell on top of him and buried her face in his neck, feeling drained and spent and delicious. Only a few seconds later, though, the sensations in her chest became so heavy and painful, she quickly rolled off him and inched toward the edge of the bed. Luke was faster, and he hauled her back to his side.
“I can’t believe it’s Sunday already,” he murmured against her neck, giving her a playful bite. “Fuck, Peyton! We should stay here for another month.”
She closed her eyes tight, suddenly at a loss for words, an awful heaviness settling deep inside her chest. Luke had sounded unexpectedly serious and just a bit forlorn when he spoke, and Peyton’s eyes were starting to burn so badly, she had to blink several times in order to clear them. But they’d known this was only a one-time deal—whatever this strange, magnificent thing between them had been—and maybe that was what made this moment so poignant.
They’d always known they’d say good-bye…only maybe neither of them had expected it would be difficult.
“I’d stay here a year with you,” she said softly, gazing into his eyes. “But I can’t miss my flight. I need to be in the office tomorrow.”
He’d never looked so serious to her. His smile was gone. All the sparks in his eyes.
When she couldn’t bear to stare into his achingly handsome face anymore, she wriggled free of his hold and went to clean up, then got busy packing the rest of her clothes into her suitcase. She dressed as quickly as she could, acutely aware that Luke watched her from the bed with a solemn, somber expression, his eyes dark blue and stormy, but she pretended not to notice.
As she applied her lip gloss, her eyes met his in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. He stood only a few feet away in white cotton briefs, and he looked more gorgeous, more golden, than ever. She swallowed as he walked toward her. Oh, God, she would miss his gorgeous face, and his intoxicating kisses, and him. All of him.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her gaze in the mirror.
Her dark hair and eyes were a sharp contrast to his light ones, and somehow served as a stinging reminder that this could never be anything but a one-time thing. They were from different worlds, wanted different things.
She smiled shakily at him and he placed a soft, tender kiss on her temple and murmured, “I hate good-byes so…I’ll just pretend I’ll see you around someday.”
“Yes. I’ll see you, Luke.”
The knot in her throat closed after she spoke his name. And with blurring vision, she watched him hop into his pants, watched that beautiful PRESTON tattoo disappear under his polo shirt, and then he walked out of her life forever.
Luke Preston had never understood how a person felt when they said they were “depressed.” As far as he was concerned, depression was an atmospheric pressure or a money shitstorm. Not a state of mind. At least, not his.
But now he understood how, exactly, you felt when you were depressed.
Weighed down. Not looking forward to anything. Like shit.
He stared gloomily out the window of his Gulfstream 550, seated all by his lonesome with the rest of the twenty passenger seats as empty as his insides felt, save for the two places for the flight attendants. Both women had been exchanging shocked glances ever since he’d refused his usual apple martini. Peyton Lane. Oh, yeah, speaking of shit, that had been one shitty good-bye.
He’d wanted to ask her where she lived, for her phone number, all her details. But no.
It was cleaner this way. Cancún was a goddamned beach, and everything looked better there. Luke wouldn’t be in a stupid long-distance relationship when he was a man who required sex daily, and Peyton had made it clear she was too busy for anything as well. But jeez Louise, his bullet wound hurt like a bitch.
He stared down at his iPhone. He’d gotten the following message this morning from Cade’s phone, but had ignored it.
U dead yet? Or RU coming back to Shitago?
Luke hadn’t even been able to think of something sharp to say back, which was very unlike him.
Oh, man, he couldn’t wait to get back to his life. Because this wishy-washy shit was not him at all.
The old Luke would have sent the picture of Peyton’s lovely butt to all three of his best male friends, saying: Blow me! I’m going to tap that if it kills me, jealous fucks.
The old Luke would be right now hitting on one of his flight attendants, or both.
Heck, the old him wouldn’t have slept with Peyton even twice, much less twenty-four times. They’d fucked like rabbits all weekend and the worst part was, with every time he came inside her, he wanted to come another twelve. He wanted to brand her and fill her up to her throat, every part of her. God.
This was nothing. Just a stupid affair.
So why did it feel like she’d just walked out on him?
He searched for her picture in his phone, and his stomach sunk when it illuminated. Fuck, she was lush, those butt cheeks perfection itself and round as melons and just as juicy. He almost wanted to fucking lick his phone screen. What in the hell was up with him? This was not Luke Preston!
He’d probably been a good boy for too damned long after this damned murder attempt. He’d been way too good lately. Sober and monogamous and shit. Yeah, that was it. He felt some of his depression lift as he assured himself that as soon as he got home and threw a party or two, he would feel like himself again.
Pretty soon, he’d be asking, “Peyton who?”
And he’d be golden.
Chapter Five
Peyton’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when she saw Luke Alexander on the plane on her way back to Chicago.
In an underwear advertisement, no less! The picture was a tasteful black-and-white and his perfect, familiar body shone more beautifully than ever, his gaze serious and seductive as he looked straight into the camera lens. Peyton’s heart flipped when she got a peek of the bulging male package barely held within the confinements of that underwear, and then she furiously slammed the magazine shut.
“This and that.” “Nothing that important.” The man was a model! What the hell?
She’d known he had a “familiar movie star look” about him and couldn’t believe she hadn’t pressed for more.
Oh, God! To think that she’d opened up to him and shown him a part of Peyton Lane that no one else knew while he’d merely shown her what he’d wanted her to see made her heart wring inside her chest. What a bastard. Was his name really Luke Alexander? He must have fo
und her naïveté so funny, a supposed “woman of the world,” partner in a global investment firm, and yet he’d fed her his lies and she’d eaten them all like a silly, ignorant…
No. There was no point in these negative thoughts. He hadn’t wanted her to know too much about him? That was fine. It didn’t even matter. It was over now and in the past. She had been honest and forthright with him, which was important to her, and the “affair” was now over. The affair.
It had been so good, so beautiful, so tender and erotic at the same time, and well…so unexpected. And yet as much as she tried to shake it out of her head, the mere possibility of this wonderful weekend having been a joke to him and an Oscar-worthy act on his part made her seethe inside like she had never, ever seethed before.
No matter how many times she told herself during the flight that it didn’t matter, suddenly it did. Because Luke was in a fucking magazine, for crying out loud. And what was she supposed to do now that she’d seen it? Throw it away?
But then if she kept it…she didn’t want to be staring at him and remember that she’d had him once. Damn him!
“Hmm, nice,” Deena, her assistant, said when Peyton flung the magazine over her desk as soon as they reached her office the next day.
“Oh! That’s Luke Preston,” said another assistant as she walked over to study the magazine. “He slept with my sister once.”
Peyton’s heart seemed to have stopped beating in her chest. “Preston?”
The woman nodded, coffee mug in hand. “He slept with my sister’s friend, too. They had this huge catfight over him.”
Blankly, Peyton stared at the woman as her mind struggled to comprehend.
“He’s quite the ladies’ man. He’s slept with a lot of girls. Every time I see him he’s got a new one in his arms.”
“You mean he lives here in Chicago?” Oh, she could just die. Of all the places in the world, her one-time fling had to be a famous model from Chicago, no less.
“Peyton!” Deena cried in disbelief. “Of course he lives in Chicago—Luke Preston. Of the Preston and Preston Group? You know, the billionaires.”