by April Lust
Work has gotten a little crazy. But who am I kidding? My life’s gotten out of hand.
Sometimes it comes at me at surreal snatches. I’ll wake up smelling Luke’s spiced, earthy musk on my sheets from the night he spent over, or I’ll feel a tantalizing ache between my legs from his rough lovemaking.
It’s been like that since Luke came over, four weeks back, after our little spat the night we feared he’d gotten me pregnant. I hadn’t expected him, and certainly not in less than a day. But he was so vehement that we get back together, to give our alibi and fake romance another go. I just couldn’t refuse him.
The thing is, I had missed him. Less than a day and I had been a wreck.
And here we are, Luke grabbing for my hand, drawing me down to his lap. I wiggle to get comfortable, my bare legs hanging off to the side of his toned, taut thigh. His light wash jeans feel cold from the cool air from outdoors. My skin has a fine layer of gooseflesh when his warm hand clasps my knee and trails up my leg, kneading and massaging me along the way.
“Did I wake you up?” he murmurs against my mouth. On his lap, I’m level with him. I gulp in his warm breath before he touches my lips with his.
Luke makes love to my mouth the way he does when his head is buried between my legs or when his thighs pry me apart for his cock to slide in and out of my channel. He groans at my rocking over his clothed erection.
I’m going at it subconsciously, hips undulating, desperate to relieve the building pressure in my achy core. My skimpy bedtime shorts roll up my thighs, prompting his fingers to slide through one of the leg holes and find my bare clit.
Breaking off with a moan, Luke laughs. “No panties?”
I shake my head. I don’t like the restrictive feeling at night.
His index finger flicks my hard button, his hot mouth latching onto my throat and sucking me in. His finger bores of my clitoris and he moves down, pinching one of my puffy labia lips and then the other.
I seize in his hold, moaning his name. “More…” I beg him. Trying and failing to get those fingers in my wet opening. I’m squeezing air right now, but it's Luke’s cock I want. I’ll settle for his fingers though. Anything to calm this torrent whipping up a frenzy inside me.
“Behave, Lily,” he warns when I’m back to rubbing against him.
I can feel how hard he is. Yet he’s denying himself as he holds back from me too. I should be used to this, but I’m not. He’s told me I should be trained to last longer during these petting sessions, but usually I’m undone at his first touch, his first kiss.
And I often get what I want.
A little begging goes a long way. I rub a little more and Luke sighs, his lust-glazed eyes taking in my pout.
My eyes widen as he pushes into my entrance, taking me fast with two fingers. A third digit has stars exploding behind my eyes. I arch, my chest brushing his, my hands falling from his shoulders to wrap around the back of his neck. He curls his fingers sharply, pushing a sensitive bud of nerves.
This I haven’t felt before. The orgasm pulling me apart takes my breath, my very soul away. My ears are ringing loudly, my eyes clamping shut and squeezing tight. My back arcs away from Luke’s fingers but they keep pushing that wonderful spot, flooding me with wave after wave of body-racking pulses.
I cry his name, aware my neighbors must be wondering who Luke is and why I’m screaming for him. And then I collapse, faintly noting Luke’s arm around my waist keeping me from sliding to the floor into a mushy pool of satisfied goop.
Luke’s kisses are waking me, drawing me from the dreamless sleep.
My head’s resting on his shoulder, my body curled into his. We’re still sitting on the sofa, our cold, untouched breakfast spread out before us on the coffee table. Luke chuckles at the sight of me.
“I should be looking like that. You scared the shit out of me, sweet thing.”
“Why?” I strangle out the word, licking my dry lips. I realize my throat is hoarse.
I squirm in his lap, embarrassed to have lost my grip on reality like that.
“You don’t remember?” Luke’s lips pull up on one side, the adorable quirk softening his sharp, angular features. His nostrils flare. “Oh, Lily, you had a little death.”
“A what?” My shock raises my voice.
Throwing back his head, he laughs from his belly, deep and pure. Luke shakes his head. “The proper term is la petite mort. One second you were with me, and the next you were silent and unresponsive in my arms.”
“I died?” I stammer.
“Not that kind of death. More like you slipped out of consciousness, but it happened for a couple minutes. It was kind of scary, but also really hot.” Luke touched his lips to mine.
I lean in instinctively, liking the soft connection.
His arms squeeze my middle, pulling me closer. Moving from my mouth, he whispers, “Just to be clear, you’re my first for this. It’s giving an ego boost.”
“Glad to be the helium filling your big head.”
Luke laughs uproariously.
I love how the vibrations tickle through me. I’m giggling too.
Then I gasp, my hitched breath silencing both our sounds of glee.
“I wet myself!” I’m mortified to see the large stain curving up from the crotch of my shorts. One of Luke’s pant legs is also damp. I freeze up, afraid of how to proceed. Luke’s lips smacking against my cheek draw my fearful, humiliated gaze to his.
“You didn’t wet yourself. At least, not the way you’re thinking,” he says. “What you see there is your explosive desire. I made that happen, beautiful. We did.”
“We did?” I’m playing echo really well this morning.
He nods. “You bet. I knew what I was doing. I pushed near your urethra, and you squirted your sweet juices, babe.”
“I peed myself.” I start, but at his hard look I say, “I peed with pleasure.”
He gives up with an exasperated sigh. “Call it what you want. It’s your juices I’m wearing proudly.” He smirks then, his tongue dashing over his bottom lip. He doesn’t have to tell me what he’s thinking. His look tells me enough.
“As much I would love to part those yummy thighs and clean you up myself, we best do that in the shower, and then see about getting on with our breakfast.” Luke hauls me up into his arms.
I squeak. Clinging onto his shoulders and navigating him to my bathroom, I slowly get used to standing on my own two feet when he lets me down at the foot of the bath. It’s a fast shower, but an exploratory one. We caress each other, gently and thoroughly, but we hold off from going at it.
I’m buzzing with sexual energy when we step out.
Discarding my ruined shorts in the hamper on my way to my bedroom, I dress while Luke calls Russ. He’s sending him over with new pants.
I answer the doorbell, leaving Luke, in his boxer briefs, in my bedroom.
Russ isn’t alone. Kerry squeals into my arms.
What is it with everyone being so alert in the morning? The sun is only barely starting to warm from its orange-ish dawn hue.
I get to Luke first, handing him the shopping bag with a pair of black form-fitting slacks. Then I tend to my guests and heat up breakfast. Luke brought more than enough scrumptious cinnamon rolls. I brew coffee for Russ and tea for Kerry.
“Started without me,” Luke announces his presence, and it’s like the room comes alive. Russ sits straighter in the couch, slinging an arm around Kerry and drawing her closer to his side, making space for the boss.
Somehow my friend and Luke’s thug are hitting it off. I’ve warned Kerry about Russ without directly telling her what happened in the parking lot a month ago and how I came to meet her man. I also made it clear to Luke to keep my friend’s heart intact where his man’s concerned.
Luke draws me to his lap on my return with my new guests’ warm drinks.
I’m aware of Kerry’s smirk and Russ’ pointed effort to avoid staring at us when Luke starts feeding me bits of a fat, glazed cinnam
on roll. It’s easier around strangers, but this is the first time my best friend is witnessing me with Luke.
I realize Russ is Luke’s friend, not just his goon. Despite our initial meeting, Kerry’s new man is polite enough and, as far as I know, he handles a gun skillfully. I only hope he treats my friend well.
When he finishes feeding me, Luke devours a cinnamon roll himself. Swallowing his last mouthful, he says, “We’re heading to the dealership after this.”
“What for?” I ask, curbing a sigh.
It’s not how I’d like to spend a Sunday, but Luke smiles, slow curling and seductive. “I need your help, Lily.”
“Do you?” I tease.
Luke kisses me and I’m warming to my toes. His lips are sweet, sticky from the cinnamon and sugary glaze.
Kerry’s soft giggling yanks me out of my haze.
Russ has his face buried in her neck and wavy deep red hair, and she has a hand curled around his head, a wide smiling pulling her glossy, cherry red lips.
And I thought I had a reason to be embarrassed. I smile at their open devotion. Feeling Luke’s gaze, I meet his eyes. He’s glowing, his green eyes are radiating, lips tugging with a lazy smirk, brows relaxed.
“Okay,” I whisper.
I’d do anything for him in this moment. Anything.
So after breakfast, we clean up and Russ, Kerry, and Luke wait for me to change out of my alma mater’s cotton t-shirt and sweatpants.
On returning, dressed and ready to head out, I pause under Luke’s scrutiny of my navy pencil skirt and soft blue loose blouse. When I shrug on the gorgeous coat he got for me from Julie’s boutique, he frowns.
“You don’t look warm enough. I need to get you a scarf and hat to match,” he says.
“I already have a hat and scarf. I’ll just grab them and we can get going.”
This doesn’t impress Luke. He tries to argue, but I flit away to my bedroom. As much as I love the coat and dress he got me from Julie’s, I don’t feel right accepting gifts from him. I don’t like to think about why he insists on buying me things when we’re in a fake relationship.
When I get back, we troop out, Luke letting the topic slide. He does keep his arm around me all the way down to his car. Russ takes Kerry to his ride.
#
Luke cranks up the heat and I have to draw my hat off and tug my scarf loose. Luke is right though, the late October wind has a bite to it. I’m glad to be rushed inside by Luke. Kerry and Russ arrive a bit later than us.
Kerry’s flushed face and bright eyes tells a story as does Russ’ wayward hand on her ass and his inability to drag his eyes off her.
They’re sizzling so hot, I actually have to back up from their passionate heat.
“We have to go,” Luke says, pulling me in for a smooch.
I tiptoe into the kiss, hating when it comes to an end. I feel how hard and warm he is, his erection pushing against my belly when I’m in his arms. I remember he hadn’t found his release when he gave me mine in the apartment. Guilt and amazement entwine at the discovery.
How is he keeping it together?
I’m burning up from a kiss. A kiss! I’m hardly twelve again, and as a healthy twenty-seven year-old woman, I’ve had enough kisses in my lifetime to have grown a little control in that area. But I’ve ceded all control to Luke when I get like this.
Luke grins at my mewling. He smacks another fast kiss on my mouth and then a peck on my nose. “Later, I promise. For now, don’t miss me too much.”
“I apologize,” Kerry says once the men clear the entrance of the dealership. She sighs, clasping her hands over her chest. “I used to think you were slaving away here, but the way that man looks at you. Like he’s ready to devour you—worship you, it’s understandable. I would probably live out of my office if I had a boss like that.”
I grin. “Russ seems pretty into you too.”
“I know, right?” Kerry claps her hands, laughing softly.
We’re heading into Luke’s office since there’s more room for the two of us there than in my little cubicle. I unlock the door with the keys he’s given me.
I slip my coat over the back of his chair and draw a second key, this one to his filing cabinet, from my purse. Like the office door, he made me a copy last week when he trained me on how to organize the abundant folders in there.
Turns out Kerry’s right. Luke and his father are loan sharks, and some of their business is legitimate and some is questionable.
I don’t question too much, except when I need clarification with numbers and accounts. Luke made it clear the less I know for now, the easier for me in the long run. It hasn’t gotten to a point of contention, so I don’t bring it up. I like our slow, growing trust, and I don’t want to disturb its pace.
“He’s amazing,” Kerry gushes about Russ. It’s the kind of background noise I need. Girl talk about the men we love.
The thought freezes my hands. Kerry clues in. I find her stare, my mouth opening for a soft whoosh of air. “I’m in love with him.”
“Oh, honey.” Pushing out of her seat, Kerry rounds the desk and wraps her arms around me. I sink into her embrace, papers clutched between us. I’m still shocked, wrapping my head around the truth when my friend pulls back, her hands tightening over my arms.
“You have to tell him.”
“I do?” I sigh seconds later, adding with a bob of my head, “I do.”
“Don’t worry. I have a good eye or these things. Luke loves you, too.” Kerry nods.
I hope to God she’s right.
A knock on the slightly open door springs both of our gazes to a third party. Detective Art Dayton pushes the door wider, stopping shy of crossing the threshold. His hand lowers from knocking. It’s probably supposed to be disarming, but his smile only makes me tense.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Detective,” I say, standing. Very casually I tuck the papers in my hand into a folder, my glance darting to the open file cabinet. Can he seize anything he sees in sight? All I know of my knowledge of law enforcement starts and stops with police crime dramas.
“Miss Erickson.” Art Dayton is a good-looking man. I imagine if we met in another situation, and he was interested, I would have let him woo me. But I was into Luke now, and Art might look nice on the outside but I get the inkling there’s more to him, something dark lurking under his polished, expensive suit.
He regards Kerry with a pleasant smile and a nod.
She greets him, her wide-eyed, suspicious stare skipping to mine.
I don’t know what Russ has shared with her, but her surprise tells me she knows nothing of the detective’s sniffing around me to get to Luke and his father, Floyd.
“If it’s not too much of an inconvenience, could I ask for a bit of your time?” Art is smooth. It’s hard to refuse when he’s being so...courteous. Then he looks to Kerry and apologizes. “Alone, if that’s possible.”
I bob my head at Kerry, smoothing my friend’s ruffled feathers down.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. Kerry should be as uninvolved in this as possible.
When she clears the office, Art closes the door after her, and he steps closer to Luke’s desk. “He has you working on a Sunday.” It’s a statement.
I frown. “No, I chose to work.” Standing, I take the folder in my hands to the file cabinet. Feeling his eyes following me, I say, “But I’m sure that’s not why you’re here, detective.”
“No. It isn’t.” Art moves to consult the photograph on the wall. He studies the cars in the frames, his voice carrying, filling the room with its booming power. “Miss Erickson, I’ve been stuck on my case. The one concerning the body of one Mr. Derrick Smyth in your workplace’s lot.”
He reaches out to straighten a frame. “And whenever I’m stuck, I find myself thinking of you.” Art’s eyes cut to mine.
Controlling my unnerving reaction to his sharp, intent gaze is a proving difficult. I’ve never been interrogated, and without experience I can’t tel
l if it's happening now, but it sure feels like it.
Art strides as confidently as Luke. In a lot of ways the two men are alike. They use their natural leadership to puppet players around them. Only Luke doesn’t force that power on me; if I ever became unwilling, he’d back off. I know that, as sure as I now recognize I love Luke Hanley.
“Miss Erickson—Lily, I’ll be blunt.” He stops shy of touching me, but he’s close enough I have to crane my head up. We’re standing in front of the file cabinets, beside Luke’s desk. “I think you’re a strong woman, working here, surrounded by men, and by a boss who lives in the shadows, toeing the line of right and wrong.”
I tighten my lips on that.
Light brown eyes flecked with gold around the large black pupils, Art’s stare drops to my mouth and freezes there. “A man like Luke Hanley doesn’t deserve you. I’d treasure you, every day and night, and you’d want for nothing.”
Then he touches my cheek, tracing a finger down to my jaw, breaking off with a sigh, his lips parting on the gentle breeze. “We could be amazing, a beautiful woman like you by my side.”
When he lowers his head, I turn mine sharply to the side, my heart racing, body leaning from him. Art Dayton takes the rejection silently. But his brows are knotted when I look back. I’ve caught him off guard. He’s unused to woman not falling all over him.
“Think about it.” His tone is clipped, the honeyed note flavoring his words gone. “I expect you know the smart choice lies with me.”
Turning, he makes quick work of reaching the other side of Luke’s office. Pulling the door open, Art glances back. “Because, Miss Erickson, I’d hate to have to trample over you too.”
Kerry runs into the office once he clears it. She closes the door and rushes to my side. I’m still standing, swaying when she touches me. “Sit,” she orders, shoving me in the direction of Luke’s comfy chair.
When she prods some of the detective’s speech from me, Kerry draws her cell from her purse and holds it out. “Call him. Now. Luke deserves to know.”