The first wave of her orgasm overtook her so strongly that she couldn’t muffle her moans. She prided herself on self-control and independence.
So, why did it feel like Luke held all the cards?
Chapter 11
By Saturday morning, Luke needed medical help.
He was positive that his dick was broken. No matter times he’d jacked himself off, the damn thing wouldn’t soften. He knew exactly who to blame.
Reliving Kennedy’s blow job from last night only resulted in a raging hard-on that wouldn’t quit. His boner laughed in his face as he tried to tame it with an ice-cold shower. The drops of water only made him recall, in vivid detail, her sticky mouth catching every drip of his cum after she deep-throated him.
Maybe if he jacked off this one last time, he’d have a moment of peace. He clutched his erection and gave it a tug. Instantly, past memories from five years ago combined with fantasies he hadn’t made good on.
He remembered her on her knees, mouth stuffed, as her eyes twinkled with mischief. He imagined laying her down on his desk and feasting on her sugar-coated petals for lunch at his office. He remembered the first time he fingered her rosette many years ago. He imagined tearing her clothes to shreds as she wrapped her thick thighs around his waist and he banged her against the wall. He imagined filling her up with his seed, creating their child in her belly.
He slumped against the shower wall as multiple spurts robbed him of any remaining energy.
Luke prayed that his body would behave for a few hours. Deep down, he knew the only way he could fix this was to ease himself into her slick curves. He hadn’t even had a chance to kiss her last night. That mistake wouldn’t happen again.
The moments following yesterday’s spontaneous suck-off could’ve gone better. A lot better. This morning he was on a mission. He meant every word he set before she fled the kitchen. He was going to catch her.
If the fool woman ever let her guard down.
Luke quickly dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. It was a little past nine in the morning. If it had been a regular working day, he would’ve been well into his third or fourth meeting of the day.
He walked into the empty kitchen then into the dining room. The instant he saw object of his affection, Luke stopped short. She was radiant.
As if she sensed him watching her, she suddenly turned her head. Her brown orbs latched on to his and he forgot how to breathe for a beat.
She had no lipstick on today, barely any makeup. Her skin–a flawless chestnut brown–and her ebony hair captured the rays of sunlight beaming through the dining room windows. Her curls were slicked back into a bun at the nape of her neck. He very much wanted to pull her hair down. Luke was slightly obsessed with her long locks that straddled the line of wavy and curly.
She looked lovely this morning. Delicate, innocent. However, he knew the truth.
She was a vixen that liked to push his buttons. The star of his late-night dreams wouldn’t be forgotten anytime soon. Kennedy’s incredible tongue running up and down the length of his dick. Her skilled mouth kissing and licking every sensitive spot and inducing sensations of wonder. His torture had been fun for her.
It’d only been one night, and he was damn near infatuated with her all over again. He’d keep that bit of information to himself. There was no need for her to know that. She’d run away screaming.
“Morning, Kenn.”
Her eyes flickered over to him, meeting his gaze before quickly dismissing him. “Oh, yay. You’re still here. Goodie.”
He chuckled at her sarcasm. “Still haven’t removed that stick from your ass. Guess we were too preoccupied with my stick.”
He perused the lavish buffet set up on a long table against the wall. It was a bit overkill for two people, but he wasn’t complaining. He grabbed an apple and two bottles of water.
“What can I say, my performance was award-winning. You won’t forget it anytime soon. But I already have,” she snorted, throwing a croissant at his head.
“I guess you prefer the battery-operated sticks. Easier to control, huh?” Luke sat in the chair across from her and took a bite out of his apple and held out a bottle to her. Kennedy was silent.
A blush ran over Kennedy’s face. “W-w-hat, um, what are you talking about?”
Ah. She wanted to play dumb. But Luke was blunt. “Next time get a quieter vibrator. Not that it would’ve mattered. I forgot how vocal you can be. But I appreciated the reminder.”
That little show she put on last night had cemented his cocksomnia. Being in the room almost directly across from hers, she’d given him front row access.
He was forced to listen to every detail of her bliss and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Keeping her orgasm to herself was plain selfish. The blowjob was just an appetizer. He wanted more.
She glared at him. “Last night was an anomaly–I needed a snack, you gave me one. But what happens in my bedroom is none of your business.”
“No need to be ashamed, Kenn. If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask.”
He heard her suck in a breath. “If I wanted you, I would’ve had you. Obviously, I didn’t.”
He scoffed at her logic. “So instead you settled for a toy? I would’ve taken care of you. I remember exactly what you like.”
“You’re a cocky little shit this morning, aren’t you?” She threw another piece of food at him.
“We both know there’s nothing little about me.”
Ignoring that comment, she replied, “My body is my body. You’re not my boyfriend. Or even my friend.
That got his attention. “Mark my words, the next orgasm you have will be from my hands, mouth, or my dick.”
She rolled her eyes, but Luke didn’t miss her squirm in her seat. Or the way her legs slammed closed. Luke bet she was counting her blessings that Gretzky chose that exact moment to walk into the room.
“Good morning, Ms. Notyce, Mr. Simon. I hope you had a restful sleep.”
“Not exactly,” Luke muttered under his breath.
“I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of arranging for an in-house spa service.”
Kennedy’s eyes lit up. “Spa?”
“Yes. I thought you both might enjoy 90-minute massages. To ease away the stress of the work week.”
Kennedy chewed a bite of her eggs. “Sign me up! A massage sounds like a dream.”
Gretzky raised a quizzical brow to Luke. Luke shrugged. “Sure, why not. I could use some relaxation. What time?”
“Shall we say, in an hour? The spa service is already set up in the library.”
Luke and Kennedy both voiced their agreement and Gretzky excused himself. Luke had her all to himself. “So, I was thinking, maybe we should talk about last night.”
Before Luke could stop her Kennedy busied herself clearing off her plate. “Well, I better get ready for our spa appointment. Don’t want to be late and all.”
“You can’t avoid me forever, Kenn,” he said, not letting his frustration get the best of him.
“I told you to stop calling me that. And I’m not avoiding you, I’m just choosing not to talk to you right now.”
He shook his hands in frustration. “That’s the very definition of avoiding someone.”
“Okay. You’re right. I’m avoiding you,” she stuck her tongue out at him. “See you in the library.”
He sent up a curse. They needed to talk. He had to tell her what he was thinking. Seven days of awkward avoidance was only going to make this trip unbearable.
It was official. Luke was a glutton for punishment.
Of all the way ways he thought he would die, death by blue balls never occurred to him at all. He laid face down on a massage table less than two feet away from a completely naked Kennedy.
He eyes trailed horizontally across her table. All her curves, every muscle, each and every hill and valley of her flesh, was magnificently outlined as she laid underneath a thin sheet. The sheet was pulled down low to her waist.
Chestnut skin gleamed under the natural light in the library. He took the opportunity to zoom in on the dimples in her lower back that hinted at the riches from the waist down.
Waterboarding sounded like a better alternative than to look, but not touch.
From the corner of his eye he saw two strangers enter the library. A tall, honey-blonde woman dressed in a white uniform like medical scrubs approached. She was attractive but not his type. Only one woman in the room held his attention.
Following her was a hulk of a man with long brown hair and dark green eyes. He looked like a tanner version of Jason Mamoa. On steroids.
The honey-blonde introduced herself to him, but Luke didn’t hear a word she said. Roided-up Mamoa started to chat up Kennedy.
Was this guy for real?
Luke wasn’t amused. Abso-fucking-lutely no way was another man touching his woman. Not happening.
“Kenn, do you think we can switch? I prefer male hands.” He looked at the honey-blonde whose name he didn’t remember. “No offense.”
Kennedy swiveled her head around to stare at him. She shot him a puzzled look. He didn’t blame her. The explanation sounded stupid even to his ears. “You do?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I like extreme deep-tissue massages. I’m sure Mamoa can get the kinks out.”
Luke knew he was being a possessive Neanderthal. He didn’t care. Her supple flesh was to be touched by his hands only, not anyone else’s.
“Well, you do like it rough.” She shot him a devilish smile that made this asinine situation worth it.
He smiled back. “Glad you remember.”
She chuckled then put her face back down on the massage table.
An hour into their massages and he heard his first authentic laugh from Kennedy Notyce in over five years. No pretense, no fakeness. All real. His heart jumped in his chest.
149. He mentally added this laugh to his running tally.
She had a laugh like honey-coated thunder. Low, rumbling, but distinctly feminine. The sound exploded into the silent room. Her laugh sounded like–
Ouch. The roidhead dug his thumbs into Luke’s bicep. He was taking Luke’s request for deep-tissue quite seriously.
“All I remember is you running into class looking like a deranged Chihuahua,” he said. He remembered it like it was yesterday.
She groaned. “God, that was the worst day of my life! Knocking back shots of Everclear the night before Civil Procedure midterms was my most idiotic mistake. Ever.”
“The rest of the class was entertained. A running shoe on one foot, a flip-flop on the other. Hot-pink shorts and a tie-die sweatshirt. I mean, you were a wreck,” he joked.
“I never partied during the week again.
He smiled. “I don’t think you ever partied again. Period.”
“I cried so much in law school. I’m forever traumatized.”
He thought about her comment a little too seriously. “It wasn’t a cakewalk, but we made it work. Do you ever regret it?”
“Going to law school? Nah. I mean, the debt situation isn’t ideal. And I think the stress shaved twenty years off my life but…I don’t regret it. I mean, if I didn’t go, I would never have met you.”
“I–” Mamoa jabbed his elbow into Luke’s shoulder blades. The fucker had to be doing this shit on purpose. Luke grunted. “I’ve been thinking about the competition. Maybe we should just split the prize.”
The less they were concerned with winning the competition, the more they could focus on each other. On reconnecting. Besides, they were both successful lawyers at the top of their game. They weren’t exactly hard up for cash.
Marta, the honey-blonde, continued to massage Kennedy’s shoulders. “You want t-to, split the prize?” she asked.
“Why not? We entertain each other for a week and it’ll go by in a breeze. Then we’ll divvy up the money, fifty-fifty.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered.
“It’s not like we need the money. I’d rather spend time getting to know each other again.”
“‘It’s not like we need the money’ he says,” she parroted. “You have no clue whether or not I need the money.”
“You just won a major case at a top law firm. You’re killing. I guess I just assumed–”
“Of course, you did. Just because you’re Richie Rich doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” Kennedy was rising off the table even as Marta tried to calm down. “Why are you even here?” she asked knowingly. He didn’t hide his family’s wealth. She’d known all along that he had money.
“You’re right. I don’t need the money. That’s not what I’m here for.”
Something must’ve struck a nerve, but he didn’t know what he’d said. Whatever he said, he definitely stuck his foot in his mouth somehow. She looked over at him, “If you’re not here for the money, then what are you here for?”
“Easy. This beat the alternative.”
He averted his gaze, trying to hide the fact that such an easy question triggered a near panic attack. He couldn’t tell her that he was a grown-ass man too scared to spend time with his senile father. This opportunity had been a lifesaver.
He could’ve gone to the West Coast to see Mom and Brittany. But he always felt like an intruder in their exclusive mother-daughter club. Luke had a few close friends, but he definitely wouldn’t tell her that he didn’t want to be a burden on Cade or Jordy.
Anxiety seeped through his pores as he came to grips that he was pathetically alone.
No family.
No girlfriend.
Only a few friends that he wouldn’t dare impose on. Yet, he did have a job that he was brilliant at. At least there was that.
So no, he didn’t need the money. He needed an escape. A temporary respite from the carefully curated life he had worked so hard to achieve. Fear and anxiety joined forces to grab him by the tongue and dried his mouth.
He couldn’t tell Kennedy any of that.
Chapter 12
Luke stretched in the lux reclining chair and flicked off the movie projector with the remote. He expected to feel fully relaxed and at ease.
All he felt was pain.
What was painful was the humiliating end to the morning’s massage session. Not to mention all the bruises Dante inflicted him. Relaxing my ass, Roidman tried to kill me.
After watching a movie, alone, in the mini-home theater, he was bored. And a little lonely. He set out in search of his temporary roommate. He needed to smooth things over with Kennedy. If he ever figured out what he’d done wrong.
He checked her room. Empty. Same with the kitchen and living room. She wasn’t in the sauna and he hadn’t heard her leave the cottage for the premise. Where the hell was she? He backtracked to the library.
Found you.
She was dressed in a gray sweatshirt that stopped at her thighs, along with a pair of black, wool knee-high socks. With her legs stretched out along the length of the leather couch, it was clear that she wasn’t wearing any pants.
And unless they were microscopic, he doubted she was wearing shorts either.
Luke took a moment to appreciate her figure. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her in casual clothes. Or so relaxed. She looked ethereal. Female. Lush.
He shoved his analysis of her sleeping form aside. He crept closer to the couch, careful not wake her. She reminded him of a younger Nia Long, except with longer hair. Sexy, untamed, natural. He swept the loose midnight strands off of her face.
He watched her face in the glow of the candlelight. It added an angelic tint to her beautiful dark skin. Her mouth was parted the tiniest bit as she slept. Her full mouth was a work of art that beckoned to him. He swallowed and tried to tell his rapidly hardening erection to behave.
A nibble. A lick. A quick brush of his lips against hers. Her lips called to him to taste them. Who was he to say no?
He was spellbound. Utterly captivated. Sitting on his haunches, he put himself level with Kennedy’s face on
the couch. He lowered his mouth to take what was offered.
And then he took what he wanted.
Firm lips touched her soft ones. Her bottom lip was pulled into a warm cavern and nibbled. Each kiss was featherlight, as weightless as wisps of cotton candy. Every caress of his lips sent her into a sensual state of intoxication.
Could a person get high off of kisses?
In her dream, Luke plastered his body to her length. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. This particular dream was so vivid and visceral that she didn’t want to wake up. So real. If only it could be.
Being in such proximity to him in the cabin must have created some sort of chemical imbalance. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw him. She felt him. Imagined how he would taste.
Kennedy kissed Luke in her dream, pulling him closer to her. He was still too far away. Her fingers clutched at him and teased the back of his neck.
Imaginary Luke’s tongue slipped into her mouth and coaxed hers out to play.
“Kennedy?” Her name floated through the air, so quiet, so light.
“Mmm, Luke.” Her dream voice sounded so close, almost like she had said the words aloud.
“Kenn, babe. Open those gorgeous eyes for me.”
Her sleepy haze quickly evaporated. She blinked once. Twice. Three times. A pair of lips hoovered millimeters above hers, fanning her with warm, minty breath.
She liked this mouth. It was define by adistinct cupid’s bow. The bottom lip was slightly larger than the top. A day’s worth of stubble made his face prickly to the touch.
Fuck, she knew this mouth.
She snapped out of her daze. “Luke? What the hell are you doing?”
Unintentionally, her voice had went all low and throaty. Oh god, it hadn’t been a dream. Kennedy had been kissing the very man she was supposed to be avoiding. Maybe Luke would show some mercy and pretend that nothing happened.
One look at his smoldering eyes told her that she wasn’t going to be that lucky. She tried to sit up but the two hundred plus pounds of delectable man meat on top of her made that impossible.
Snow and Seduction (A Holiday Romance) Page 10