Lukas

by Carian Cole

  LUKAS

  I CAN NOW SCRATCH WAKING UP with the woman of my dreams off my bucket list.

  She’s sleeping on her stomach, hugging my pillow, one of her legs bent up. I want to spread her from behind and sink myself into her, but I don’t, because I don’t want her to think I’m just gonna fuck her all the time and nothing else. She is so much more to me than that. But damn, that view is tempting.

  Instead, I kiss her cheek, take a shower, and walk to the cafe to get us two vanilla brown sugar lattes and bagels. When I get back to the house, there’s a car in my parking lot, which is odd because it’s Sunday and we rarely see clients on Sundays. I cross the parking lot, knock on the window of the car, and the guy rolls down his window.

  “Can I help you?” I ask him.

  He looks from his cell phone to my house then back to me.

  “Is this 26 Main?”

  “It is. Do you have an appointment?” I ask, hoping Vandal didn’t set up an appointment with someone and then forget about it, which he’s done before.

  “An appointment?” he repeats, confused.

  “Yeah, for a tattoo?”

  “No, I’m looking for Ivy.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Ivy?”

  “Yeah, she’s my wife. The GPS software on our phones told me she’s here, at this address.”

  This fucking guy. Fury rages up inside me. No way in hell is he gonna wreck my first weekend with Ivy.

  “She’s inside sleeping,” I tell him.

  He pales. “What? And how do you know that?”

  “Because she’s in my bed.”

  Shock contorts his face. “Excuse me?”

  “Look, man, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, but let’s set some shit straight. First, she’s not your wife anymore. You left her and moved in with your girlfriend, remember? Second, you’re on my property. My shop is closed today, and I haven’t invited you to my home, so in my eyes, you’re trespassing.”

  “What the fuck is my wife doing in your bed?”

  “Your wife isn’t in my bed. My girlfriend is in my bed. And now, I’m going to bring her the latte I just got for her before it gets cold. I want you out of my parking lot.”

  “I want to talk to her. She didn’t answer her phone last night when our son called.”

  “That’s right, because we were busy. She’s going to call him when she wakes up. And, by the way, where is Tommy right now? If it’s your weekend to be with him, shouldn’t you be with him and not stalking Ivy?”

  “Fuck you, pal.”

  I chew my lip ring and try to control my anger. The last thing I want is Ivy getting all upset about me and this douche-nugget having a fight.

  “I’m going inside now,” I say calmly. “Get off my property. If you’re still here by the time I get inside, I’ll call the police and have them come remove you.”

  I walk away from him, not giving him a chance to say anything else. I’m not happy that this guy is obviously still hung up on Ivy, and he’s not dealing with the fact that she’s moved on with someone else. Did he really think someone as pretty and sweet as her was gonna stay single, and that he could hang on to her while he went out and fucked around?

  Not a chance, dude.

  “Hands on the wall,” Ray squawks when I cross the living room on my way upstairs. Shit.

  “Ray, you’re a pretty bird,” I say, trying to divert him back to bird-talk. I forgot he could hear us in the foyer last night, and the last thing I need is him repeating it all back to us.

  “I’m a pretty bird,” he repeats.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I want you,” he says, mimicking Ivy.

  I glare at him in his cage. “Ray, be a pretty bird.”

  He cocks his little black feathered head at me, pretending to be innocent. But I know better.

  “I’m a pretty bird,” he says softly.

  “Keep it up, bird brain, and you’ll end up in a salad.”

  I climb the stairs and find Ivy sitting up in my bed, holding her cell phone, frowning at the screen. My stomach sinks a little. What if Paul has come to his senses and wants her back? He may be a jerk, but he’s shared eighteen years with her, and given her two kids. So far, all I’ve given her is a tattoo and a night of multiple orgasms.

  “Hey,” I say, sitting on the bed. “I got us lattes and bagels.”

  She smiles sleepily at me. “How did you know I was dying for a coffee?” She kisses my cheek as I hand her the latte.

  “I know it’s your fav.” I nod my head at her phone. “Everything okay?”

  She shoves her phone into her purse. “Yeah, I called Tommy. He’s playing Xbox, said he was alone with Charlene and that his Dad wasn’t home. Then I got a text from Paul, asking me where I was.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him I was with my boyfriend and it was none of his business.”

  “What did he say?” I ask, wondering if Paul is going to tell her about our altercation in my parking lot.

  She shrugs and sips her coffee. “Nothing. He hasn’t replied. I don’t know what his problem is.”

  “Obviously, he’s jealous, and I don’t blame him.”

  “He can be jealous all he wants. He made his bed, slept with a slut in it, and now he can stay in it.”

  I let out a laugh. “Ooh, I like little feisty Ivy.”

  I decide to not tell her that Paul was GPSing her and stalked her right to my house. No sense in getting her upset or nervous, especially when it looks like Paul isn’t going to mention it either. Most likely, he feels like an idiot right about now.

  We sit on the floor of my bedroom in front of the fireplace and eat our breakfast, talking a little about the band and my shop. I hope her new questions are coming from interest and not doubt in me.

  “What if Paul wants you back?” I ask her, because I can’t get the thought out of my head now. He kept referring to her as his wife, and that just doesn’t sit well with me at all.

  “He doesn’t. Charlene is young and gorgeous.”

  I tilt my head at her, hating that she believes someone else is better than she is, just because Paul said so. “Ivy, you’re young and gorgeous, too. You’re beautiful.” I kiss her lips. “And sweet.” I kiss her again. “And smart.” I kiss her longer. “And incredible in bed.”

  Her cheeks flush, and she looks down at her coffee cup. “Lukas . . . I’m not.”

  I lift her chin and force her to look at me. “You are all of those things, Ivy. Trust me.”

  She shakes her head and touches my hand. “I just don’t think of myself like that.”

  “I know, but I have no problem telling you, so you should keep me around.”

  Her aqua eyes shimmer as she smiles at me. “I plan to keep you around.”

  “What if Paul did want you back? If he knows you’re moving on, it could wake him up to see what he really had.”

  She stares at the fire, thinking, and while I want her to be sure, I hate that she’s thinking about it. I mean, that’s bad, right? If she has to think about it for longer than two seconds?

  “Lukas,” she finally says. “I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.”

  My heart stops beating. My lungs stop breathing.

  “And?” I urge, going mad in the silence.

  “And I feel a very intense connection to you. I think you know that.”

  “And?”

  “Lukas, stop being five for a second and let me talk, okay?” she teases.

  “Sorry. Talk faster.”

  She grabs my hand. “I don’t want Paul back. I really like what’s happening between you and me. It’s happening faster than I thought it would . . . but I love how you make me feel. I love being around you. You make me happy.” She looks up into my eyes and smiles. “But . . .”

  “There’s a but?”

  She moves her fingers up to my wrist, rubbing over the scars that have been there for a long time. “This scares me, Lukas. I can’t make any guarant
ees right now, and I don’t ever want you to hurt yourself if things didn’t work out between us.” She swallows hard and continues to rub my wrist. “We have a long road ahead of us, and as much as we may want it to work, we don’t know what could happen. I need to know that you’re okay, that you wouldn’t do something like this if something happened.”

  I clench my jaw, hating my past and the demons that haunted me then, and sometimes still do.

  She puts her latte off to the side and moves closer to me. “I really didn’t want to have this conversation this morning, after we had such a great night,” she says.

  “No, it’s okay. You have a right to know what kind of head case you’re sleeping with.”

  “Lukas, I do not think that at all, but this is serious. It’s a red flag.”

  Ouch.

  “Yeah, I guess it is,” I admit. “I was young when I did this. I was fourteen. My mother’s phone number was in some things I had packed from my great-grandmother. I carried it around with me on a little piece of paper for months before I finally got enough courage to call her. I was pretty miserable at my foster home.” I let out a sigh, and she holds my hand tighter. “Anyway, I’m not sure what I was thinking was gonna happen, but I called. When she answered, I told her who I was, and she said, ‘I don’t want you. Don’t ever call me again. I don’t want anything to do with you.’ And she hung up on me.”

  “Oh my God, Lukas. I’m so sorry.”

  “Anyway, I kinda lost it. I was already pretty messed up in the head, drinking a lot, and just depressed. I wasn’t sleeping, and was having a hard time adjusting to being in school after being homeschooled when I was younger—just everything. My friend Finn found me. He lived across the street and just came inside when I didn’t answer the door. He called an ambulance, and from what they tell me, I was technically dead for about two minutes.”

  Ivy squeezes my hand even harder. “Lukas . . .”

  “So, I ended up in the psyche ward, of course, and my foster parents were pretty disappointed, to say the least. Then I was in therapy for quite a while, learning how to accept the fact that some people might not want me, but I’m not supposed to kill myself over it. I’m stronger now, Ivy. I’ll accept it if you don’t want me. I won’t try to off myself. I have the shop, and my brother, and Katie, and Gram, and the fucking bird to take care of. I’ll be fine.”

  She throws her arms around me and hugs me so tight I can barely breathe. “I hate that someone hurt you, Lukas.”

  I hug her back. “It’s all right. Shit happens. I’m okay now, really.”

  She turns her face into my neck, and I feel her tears against my skin. “It’s not okay. You’re an amazing person. I love your heart so much. I don’t ever want you to feel pain like that again.”

  I love your heart.

  “Well, with any luck, I won’t ever feel that way again.” I pull her away from me so I can see her face. “But I do not want you held hostage over this, Ivy. If you have to leave me someday, then you have to. You can’t stay, just because you’re afraid to hurt me or that I might hurt myself. I wouldn’t do that. I just kinda wanted to be sure you were over Paul before we got more involved, because, fuck yeah, it would hurt to lose you.”

  I wipe the tears off her cheeks with my thumb, and she leans forward and kisses my lips really softly, like she’s trying to kiss it all away for me.

  “I’m over Paul,” she says between kisses. “I’m falling for you pretty fast and hard, though, and it’s scary. I wasn’t expecting any of this . . . you, the age difference, the band . . .”

  Leaning back onto the floor and pulling her on top of me, I move her hair over to one shoulder so I can kiss her neck. “None of that matters, Ivy. All that matters is how we treat each other, right?”

  “You’re right.”

  “And how we make each other feel.” I gently bite her neck, my hands sliding down to her waist.

  “Yes.”

  “And right now, I want to feel you come on my mouth.”

  I love the little gasp of surprise that she makes. “Lukas—”

  I pull my t-shirt up over her head and throw it across the room, liking the fact that she keeps putting my sweaty clothes on her body.

  “Your shyness is adorable, doll, but you should know it only makes me want to do dirty things to you. You’ve waited way too long to be fucked and loved the right way.” I yank her panties off and throw those, too. “I’m gonna leave the choice up to you again.” I kiss her breasts and slide my hands down to grab her ass. “You’re either gonna sit in that chair over there, and I’m gonna eat you like a Chinese buffet, or you’re gonna sit on my face and ride my tongue like a cowgirl.”

  “Holy shit, Lukas,” she whispers.

  “Choose or I’ll do it for you.” I suck her nipple into my mouth and flick my tongue over it, her breath quickening.

  “Buffet,” she says breathlessly, her nails digging into my shoulders.

  I stand and carry her over to the red velvet, antique chair in the corner of my room. “Damn,” I groan. “I was hoping to be a pony today.” I sit her down in the chair, secretly loving the shocked look on her face as she watches me kneel in front of her and spread her legs.

  Sitting back on my heels, I enjoy the view of her spread in front of me, her creamy pale thighs taut, her long hair flowing down her chest, her nipples peeking out. She looks incredibly beautiful and sensual, every part of her waiting for me. I’d love to take a picture of her like this and draw her this way.

  “For God’s sake, Lukas, don’t stare at it,” she says, turning eighty shades of red. I slide my finger slowly down her slit, watching as a tiny drop of moisture drips from her. I lean forward and lap it up, and she jumps, grabbing my head.

  “Jesus!” she exclaims, her body bucking up toward me.

  “You can call me that, baby. We’re in my church, after all.”

  Grabbing her legs, I lift them and rest them on my shoulders, turning my head to lick and kiss her thigh, feeling her muscles quaking.

  I lick her lips slowly, my tongue gently sliding between her folds, exploring her sweetness. Spreading her with my hands, I delve into her, swirling my tongue inside her, using my tongue and lip piercings to rub against her sensitive spots, making her quiver against my lips. Pushing one, then two fingers slowly inside her, I drag my tongue up to play with her clit, licking her in circles, slow at first and then faster, as I feel her body pushing against my face. I know she’s trying to fight it, but she can’t. Sucking her little bud into my mouth, I piston my fingers in and out of her faster, her hands grasping my hair, her hips thrusting against my face, finally letting herself go and giving in to the pleasure. She starts to moan, and I suck her delicate flesh harder, shaking my head, devouring her as her thighs tighten around me. Soon, she’s shaking and whimpering, pulling my hair, coming all over my tongue and face, driving me wild for her with her little squeals.

  My cock is rock hard in my jeans, and I want to beg her to suck me, but I have a feeling she’s not ready for that just yet, especially with her strange mouth and fork fetish. Instead, I quickly unbutton my jeans, yank the zipper down, grab my throbbing cock, and thrust it into her as she’s still coming.

  “Oh my God,” she moans, wrapping her legs around my waist. She’s so hot and wet around me that I only get a few deep thrusts in before I’m coming inside her, all my control lost.

  “Fuck,” I gasp, grabbing her neck and pulling her to me for a deep kiss. I literally want to just devour this woman with my mouth and my cock.

  We kiss long and slow, as our panting subsides and our brains defog. She rubs my back in slow circles and kisses me softly, lovingly, on my lips, face, and neck, as we come down from post-orgasm bliss. It feels like Heaven.

  Fuck me; I am so falling for this girl. I’m done. Stick a fork in me.

  Ivy told me during one of our epic text conversations over the Christmas holiday that she never gets to relax on weekends because she’s always doing laundry, cleaning th
e house, and taking care of the kids, so I make sure we spend the rest of the day relaxing. I lure her into the shower with me and give her a nice soapy massage, shampoo her hair, and bundle her up in one of the band sweatshirts. Asher had this idea few months ago to print funny hashtags on the sweatshirts and t-shirts for each guy in the band, and mine says #worshipme.

  Ivy reads it on the sweatshirt and raises her eyebrow at me. “Do I even want to know what this means?” she asks.

  “It’s just a joke. Vandal’s says #getvandalized, which is way worse.”

  She giggles. “Definitely. So far, you’ve been worshipping me . . . soon, I’m going to have to worship you,” she says, peeking up at me.

  Yes. Now. On your knees.

  “Whenever you’re ready, doll. The church of Lukas is only for you.”

  She shakes her head at me. “I can’t even. I’m just gonna let that go for now.”

  We spend the rest of the day relaxing, sitting by the fire in the living room, cuddling, and trying to make Ray forget the bad words he heard by talking about my antiques.

  “Is it weird I feel sad that I have to leave?” she asks when it’s time for me to drive her home.

  “If it is, then we’re both weird, because I don’t want you to go. Keep my sweatshirt, please. I like how it looks on you.”

  She smiles at me as she grabs her coat and purse while I find my car keys. “Thank you. I had the best time, really.” She looks longingly at me, and I hate that I have to take her home, but Paul is dropping Tommy off at her house soon.

  I hug her in the hallway by the door before we leave. “I did too. I don’t want you to go. When can I see you again?”

  “Soon . . . let me do some thinking. I have Tommy next weekend.”

  “You can bring him here. I don’t mind at all. I have room for him. You can both stay. I have an Xbox, and I can get him anything he wants so he has fun here.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.”

  “I could come to your place,” I suggest.

  She takes a deep breath. “That’s even worse. I don’t know how to do this.”

  “Babe, it’s okay. There’s no rule book. If you want me in your life, I have to be around your kids, and I want to be. I hope you believe that. I don’t want to only see you when Paul has Tommy. That’s every other weekend. Don’t do that to us.”