by Dee Tenorio
“I want your eyes open tonight, Belle.”
She leaned into his hold, still pulling the leather apart then starting on the slide catch. “Why?”
“Because.” His zipper rasped down over his eager cock, then her questing touch slipped past his underwear to caress him with both hands and he couldn’t quite say.
“Lucas,” she murmured, leaning forward, gliding her cheek against his hard flesh, letting him feel the caress of his name on her lips before opening them and taking him inside. Her hands stroked, but it was her tongue, hot and wet, that scrambled what was left of his senses. She sucked him in, taking torturous care only to slide the head past those delectable lips. Over and over, she pulled him free with a wet pop and a smile. Just when he got a grip on what he wanted to say, she took him all the way in, so deep he could feel the tight squeeze of her throat muscles working around him. She rumbled, sending pleasure up every nerve ending he had.
“Fuck, Belle—” He took hold of her short hair, pulling her back as gently as he could, all his control holding on by the thinnest of threads. Another second of that and he’d have come, completely losing his mind and not giving a shit.
She laughed, a sexy, husky sound that felt almost as good as what she’d just done. “Oh, Lucas, don’t you know by now? The only one I’ve ever seen when I closed my eyes was you.”
To hell with control.
He bent, half falling, half lifting her, so that they slid across the covers, his body fitting over hers like lost puzzle pieces.
She wasn’t laughing anymore, but she was making noise. Those warm moans of pleasure when his hand found her breasts. The groan when his lips left hers to push the bra away and fill his mouth with a sensitive tip. Her grip tightened on his shoulders as he laved the pebble point of her, drawing it deep. She arched with every stroke, pulling on his clothes until they were tangled and torn.
He rose away from her only to rip the shirt away and she helped him shuck the pants and briefs. Shoes and socks came off somehow—he didn’t know and he didn’t care—but soon enough, there was only her writhing form beneath him, the wet, wondrous slide of his tongue into her already slick pussy and the feel of ribbons on his neck when she tightened her thighs after his first taste.
Wildness took over. He couldn’t touch her—taste her—enough. He wanted to feel her everywhere. Memorize her sweetness, bring her more pleasure than she’d ever known. He searched out the nub of her clit, flicking it twice before sucking it in, pumping a finger into her slit in time with his tongue. She sobbed, pulling on his shoulders while she trembled as much as he did, crying out his name over and over again with each successive shudder. Only then did he remove the wet panties he’d pushed out of his way, easing them over her long, silken limbs.
Then he had a hell of a good time working his way back up, making her laugh, making her sigh, making her whimper by the time he reached her breasts once again. By then, he couldn’t hold himself back. Not in any way.
Looking down into her dark eyes, eyes that knew him to his soul and shone with the love she couldn’t admit, he did it for them both, slipping into her body as far as nature would allow. “I love you, Belle. We’re going to be together forever, I promise.”
It was hell to reel back, to remove himself even one inch from the wet grasp of her pussy, before he slid back into place, back where he belonged. She raised her legs high, her knees grazing the back of his arm, those tiny black bows tickling his ribs when she raised her hips to take him impossibly deeper.
“Always, Lucas,” she whispered, closing her eyes tight while her body gripped him to breathlessness. “Always you.”
He arched into her.
“Only you.”
The pace grew beyond his control. Her panted words in his ear became a sigh of surrender, an incredible gift of her love.
“Only ever you.”
Her hands clenched his, the thrusting of their bodies frenzied now, hearts beating wildly together as infinity rushed toward them at crushing speed.
She screamed when it reached her first, the clutch of her muscles sending him with her beyond a peak he’d never known, into a well of pleasure he never dreamed existed. And she was there with him, all his senses trained on her scent, her flavor, her hold.
Together, they drifted back to reality, finally taking breaths deep enough to fill their lungs. He smiled at the small kisses being tiredly peppered on his shoulder.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, pretty sure he hadn’t because she’d be kicking him otherwise. Assuming she still had use of her legs.
“As if I could tell.” Both her voice and her eyes were hazy and pleased. “But I think we drilled a hole right through my comforter.”
Her hands caressed his back, sliding back and forth as if to soothe him from his own passion. He couldn’t help it, he laughed into the hollow of her throat, kissing an apology there when she asked him what it was about.
“I didn’t even let you finish getting undressed,” he said, letting a boneless hand caress the silk on her thigh. “I think you still have your shoes on.”
“You never let me get undressed. I haven’t decided if you’re impatient or just kinky. But either one’s okay.” She kissed his cheek. “So am I,” she whispered, sending a shiver down his spine.
He rose up so he could give her the benefit of his best scowl. “You think sex on top of the blankets is kinky?”
“It is when you do it, Lonnigan.” She lifted her head to give him a soft, lingering kiss that made a joke of his typical recovery time. As he was still buried within her, she made a sound deep in her throat to note she’d felt his re-ignition. “Round two?”
“Oh yeah.” He reached a hand to claw at the fabric beneath them and lift her body enough to drag them from underneath. “Just wait ’til you see how kinky I get under the blankets.”
“So far, you’re all talk, Lonnigan.”
“I’ve never heard that before.” He pulled back, separating from her before deftly flipping her onto her belly. A quick swat to her ass had her laughing again.
When he smoothed his hand over the tantalizing curve he’d just spanked, she looked over her shoulder at him suspiciously. “What are you thinking now?”
He shrugged, tracing the crease where her buttock met her thigh. She let him move her opposite leg, bending her knee so that the pink folds of her sex opened to him. His finger followed the curve to the crease that separated her flesh, parting it to stroke her.
The suspicion fell away, her expression softening to sleepy acceptance. She lay her head down on her forearm, still watching him, the flush in her cheeks rising again.
Lucas allowed himself to play. One finger became two, sliding through her folds to caress her clit gently before stroking all the way up, parting the globes of flesh to the tight entrance between. She didn’t jump at the touch, instead lifting for him with a flick of her hips.
“Did you know I’ve always had a fascination with your ass?” he asked, going for conversational and ending up with a hoarse facsimile.
“Didn’t you ever wonder why my skirts are always so short around you?” she asked, her eyes sliding closed like a kitten’s in the sun.
He took advantage, leaning down to lick an upraised cheek.
This time she jumped.
“I’ve spent over twenty years thinking of all the things I want to do with it. Lick it. Suck it.” He punctuated the statement with a sucking kiss that made her whimper. “Bite it.” His teeth closed over the firm flesh just hard enough to win a squeal. Determined now, he moved his hand back down to her slit, gathering more of the cream there on his finger, bringing it back to her rosebud. The wet caress this time lasted longer, massaging to the sound of her soft moan. He repeated the process, gently applying more pressure each time until she was thoroughly wet and opening for him. Finally, he sank carefully inside, caressing, stretching and sucking at the sensitive spot he’d just bitten at the same time. She groaned, lifting higher for him, pushing
back into the small thrust. Soon, he’d added a second finger and she’d begun reaching back to keep his mouth right where it was, devouring her flesh until she began to ripple around his invading touch.
He watched her over the tempting swell of flesh, waiting for those dark eyes of hers to open, listening to her pant in rising passion. “But I can’t tell you how many years I’ve dreamed about fucking it.”
She took her time, arching her back, her eyes swimming with want as she pushed a pillow under her own hips. “What are you waiting for then?”
Lucas rose up behind her, taking a whole second to stare at her, spread and dripping for him, determined to memorize this moment forever. Gripping himself, he rubbed the glistening head of his cock through her folds, smiling tightly at her muffled swearing when he dipped into her pussy. She was wet, so slick and wet, and he wanted to keep her that way. But teasing her was tormenting himself. He gave her three hard thrusts, coating himself in her before pulling out and raising his cock to her waiting ass. He rubbed against the tight entrance, pushing the broad head carefully forward, giving her time to adjust. Time for himself, because that tightness threatened his control already. He spread her cheeks further with his hands, loosening her enough to allow him in.
Second after agonizing second, he pushed, finally easing past the ring of pressure, sinking into depths both unfamiliar and devastating to his control. She flexed, backing into him and taking more of his length.
“Oh, God, Lucas,” she whimpered, for a second freezing him into worrying he might be hurting her, but she circled her hips and pushed back for more. “All of you. Gimme it all.”
In that instant, control finally snapped. He sank all the way down, buried to the hilt, his body draped over hers, his hips pumping into her. She reached back for him with both hands. Unable to ignore the blatant offer of trust, he levered himself up, taking hold of her at the elbows and leaning back. Then it became a blur of motion, pounding into her while she shuddered around him, coming with a scream that didn’t seem to stop. Lost, Lucas gave himself over to the white hot demand in his cock, fucking her until oblivion swallowed him whole.
Minutes—could have been hours—later, once Lucas realized he was actually still alive and so was she, Belinda’s hoarse voice broke the silence.
“You realize, don’t you, that since we kicked off the blankets…this doesn’t count.”
Half-dead or not, he still smiled into her shoulders.
There was a warm, smooth furnace beneath her. Belinda was already grinning before her eyes opened. Faint morning light glowed through her curtains, dappling his golden body where she wasn’t draped all over it. They’d managed to keep the sheet mostly on the bed the rest of the night, but it covered them only from the hips down. She blinked slowly, taking stock and realizing Lucas was still asleep beneath her. If he were awake, he’d probably already be inside her again.
The night before played deliciously in her mind. There was something to be said for the stamina of a man who ran ten miles a day without fail. Gently, she splayed her fingers over the rippled belly next to her cheek. Fine hairs tickled her palms as she let her fingertips find the darker, thicker strands beneath his navel, letting them lead her hand downward where they became denser and surrounded what was quickly becoming her favorite toy.
Before she reached it, though, her eyes focused on what looked like ink on his skin. Picking up her head, she frowned down at the offending difference. Until she read it.
“I was wondering when you were going to see that.” Lucas’s sleep-rumbly voice startled her just as he began to stretch. She watched with widening eyes as he arched and rippled all over. Someday, she was going to have to videotape him, just to have it whenever she needed inspiration. “Couldn’t figure out how you missed it that day in the metal yard. Or last night, for that matter.”
Probably because she’d been obsessed with the rampaging hard-on blocking her view. The tiny moniker had probably been hidden in the shadowy folds while he sat and she had no reason to expect it there. Her brain was still soggy about the night she’d gotten her tattoo. But she did remember clearly telling him to drop his pants. “I dared you to do this, didn’t I?”
Half-lidded eyes drifted over her nudity, gaining heat she could feel on her skin.
“Lucas?” She tapped the spot where the letters rode the lowest half inch of his belly, nearly hidden by the regrowing hair.
“Hmm? What? Yeah, you did. You said you weren’t going to quit smoking unless I did something equally drastic.”
That certainly sounded fair. Getting a tattoo within a centimeter of his pubic hair was about as drastic as a man could get and still be Lucas Lonnigan.
The clouds in her mind thinned somewhat. She’d pushed him into the chair while he grinned like an idiot and she’d pointed out the strip of flesh she wanted marked. Licked it. To get him branded.
“I wanted to put my name on you,” she murmured. Hadn’t she accused him of that? Had it always been her holding on, unable to let him go?
“I didn’t mind.” He pulled her from thoughts that seemed too dark in the light of morning. “Next time I get bombed, I was thinking of getting a couple of tiny butterflies around it, so we’re even.”
She ran her fingers over the small, flowing cursive letters there, beautifully rendered, well-healed and dark indigo: Belle’s.
“When I was done, you showed me yours,” he added, smiling wide. “You were stuck with me after that.”
“I’ve been stuck with you for a long time, Lonnigan.” She pulled her hand from his body to ruffle it through her hair, still trying to adjust to the short length and hopefully change the subject. The questions in her head floated by without her permission, opening a door to the conscience she didn’t want to hear from after such a beautiful night.
She felt him shift next to her, could sense his tension rise along with his body, but kept her gaze averted. His hands settled on either side of her hips, turning her toward him as his warm lips settled on her exposed neck. “Are you stuck with me from now on?”
She’d never been so cold in his arms, but the chill deep inside suddenly filled her up. Both his palms slid up her back, gently rubbing, pulling her closer until she realized she was laying her head on his shoulder and letting him comfort her.
Once again, her silence had to speak for her, but she wasn’t sure if he understood it. He pulled the sheet up and over her shoulder, continuing to try to infuse her with his warmth. He whispered into her hair, something that sounded calming, but didn’t resemble, “We can talk about this later”, which would have been calming.
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight and closing her eyes against all the thoughts and fears clamoring for attention.
“Why are you so afraid of us, Belle?” he whispered close to her ear. “Don’t you know I would never hurt you?”
She did know. Under everything. But the fear coiled deeper.
“He said that once, too,” she heard herself finally say, tears starting to sting. “But he hurt us anyway.”
“I’m not your father.” It wasn’t an admonishment—despite the frown she could hear—but a gentle reminder.
“I know. You would never—” He wouldn’t. He would never look her in the eye and tell her he wished she’d never been born. Lucas would never raise his hand and send her flying into a wall like a gnat that had annoyed too long. There would be no bloody noses or scraped knees from being dragged across carpet. Lucas would never keep her up all night in a roaring rage because she’d hidden his beer or dipped into the house payment money to feed the kids.
But fear still coiled deeper than reason.
“I love you, Belle.”
“I know you do.” She did.
“But you can’t trust me.”
It wasn’t him she didn’t trust. The night before would never have happened if she didn’t. She clung to him, wishing the words didn’t bottleneck in her throat. Too many to come out at once, too huge of a notion to ke
ep in. She shook her head against him, realizing too late that he took her meaning wrong. He stiffened in her hold, probably insulted.
“I started the fights,” she choked out, wishing she could make him understand with a look, the way he understood everything else. But this was too big and she knew it. He needed to know, needed to understand.
“It was always me. It’s still me. You don’t know the things I’ve done. He…he’d be gone and I kept my mother from his phone calls. I kept hoping someday he’d figure out we didn’t want him there and not come back. But he always did. Eventually. And he always knew it was me.”
She’d paid for each and every betrayal, too. Singled out for his angriest words, for slaps when her mouth got ahead of her sense. She’d stood between him and her siblings, left them huddling in her bed when he agreed that she’d be punished for them all. And always, she stood between him and her mother. If only Amanda had once been on her side.
“Why didn’t you ever ask for help, Belle? I would have done anything for you, even then.”
“That’s why I didn’t. Your parents tried to help, but they couldn’t make her leave him. Couldn’t protect us. Nothing could. You would have gotten right in his face and he would have crushed you. You were a boy and he was a bastard. A drunk, hateful bastard. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if he’d hurt you.”
“He can’t hurt me now. He can’t hurt you either.”
“I know.” She’d made sure of it years ago. But no one else would ever know it.
“I’m not him and you’re not her,” Lucas whispered.
“I know,” she made herself say again, trying to leech comfort from his skin.
“No, you don’t, but you will. I’m not going anywhere, Belle. Same old grumpy, pain-in-the-ass Lucas, every day, always here with you, waiting until you’re ready for me.”