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I can’t look away from his burning eyes, the intensity of his voice driving all thoughts from my head. The world narrows down to needing him, wanting him, having him in any way I can.
“I want this, Lucas. I want you.”
His body relaxes, and finally, I’m able to pull him down. He doesn’t hesitate, lips meeting mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, taking possession as it always does. Being kissed by Lucas is like being owned by him. The taste of him, the scent of him that still intoxicates me after all these years, surrounds me, and I meet his desire with a hunger of my own. His hard length presses up against me, my negligee bunched up around my hips, and I shudder, bucking my hips in restless need. I’m so wet, my body knowing who it belongs to. My hands have a mind of their own, roaming over his muscular back, my nails scraping softly, retracing paths it has taken numerous times over the bulges and dips as familiar as my own skin, and finally coming to rest on his hips. I’m a mess of restless need, my fingers clutching, pulling at him, silently begging him to fill the emptiness inside me.
Laughing softly, he nips my bottom lip before gently soothing it with his tongue.
“Patience, baby,” he whispers, sitting up. Gently stroking my sides, he grips my negligee and pulls, and I shimmy, helping him slide it off. Carelessly he tosses it to the side, his eyes not moving from my body as he resumes his gentle stroking, driving me mad with need. Just when I’m ready to snarl at him in impatience, he bends down, pressing a burning trail of kisses and little flicks of his tongue down my body. He lingers over every kiss, breathing in and tasting every inch of skin his mouth and tongue touch.
My legs fall open in restless invitation, and I’m on the cusp of begging when I feel the first slow lingering lap of his tongue, the sensation sending shockwaves through my body. His hum is one of deep satisfaction, the look in his eyes communicating that he revels in the taste of me. He bends his head for another leisurely taste, and it’s not enough, but at the same time, too much.
Then he bends his head again and feasts, his hands gripping me, holding me still against the squirming as pressure builds up inside me. My hips assume a rhythm that we’ve perfected over the years, the rise of them meeting each sinful stroke of his tongue, my inner muscles clenching and lifting me higher and higher, until I snap like a rubber band, my body shaking with the force of the sensations shooting through my body.
Rising, he moves over me, his fingers sliding and curling into my hair. With a single thrust, he enters my body, his hard length filling and stretching me, setting off tiny sparks over my skin. I gasp at the overwhelming sensation of fullness, my still sensitive body helpless against this new onslaught of sensations.
“Can you feel that?” he whispers, holding still and peppering small kisses over my face, and I can only nod breathlessly. “This is us, the way we were always meant to be.”
I love him, I love him, I think desperately, but I just wish he would fucking stop talking. I want to close my eyes, switch off my mind and lose myself in this feeling, but it’s as if he knows this, and he’s commanding all my attention, trying to peer into the deepest parts of my soul. He slowly pulls back and thrusts into me hard, his grunt and my gasp escaping at the same time. My legs curl up, wrapping around his waist, and he lowers himself onto me, getting impossibly closer, every single inch of us touching. His thrusts speed up, the slapping sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room, the fullness and heat of him sending shivers through my body.
“So fucking beautiful,” he pants through his exertion, his fingers tightening in my hair, sending little sparks of pain through my scalp while his lips run up and down my neck.
“Harder, Lucas,” I gasp, and he speeds up, one hand letting go of my hair. His finger circles my clit, slow and then faster, my body trembling and on the verge of exploding again.
“Another one, baby,” he demands. His voice is rough, our bodies sliding together in a sensuous rhythm from the sweat glistening on us both. I hold his blue eyes for as long as I can, knowing he won’t demand less of me, but then the wave crests, pulling me under, and I slam them shut, a hoarse cry escaping my throat as I come.
Rising up on his knees, he draws my hips up and continues his assault, his body relentless as he chases his release. I’m in a daze, my eyes drinking in the figure he makes. He oozes masculinity with the play of muscles as he so effortlessly holds me up. With the power of his thrusts as he chases that little bit of perfection of his own. It’s during moments like these that I can fully grasp why they call it the “la petite mort—the little death.” I know he’s close when his jaw clenches and his hips start faltering. Groaning, he stills, his hips jerking with every release into my body.
His breathing ragged, he falls forward, dropping his head to my shoulder, shivers wracking his sweat-coated skin. We linger like that for a bit, both of us coming down from our high before he rolls over, tucking me securely into his side. Burying his face in my hair, he takes a deep breath, but I’m already drifting off, the stress and sleeplessness of the last few days catching up with me.
“I love you so fucking much.” His words are an echo in my ears as sleep claims me.
***
I wake to the sound of the tap running in the bathroom, and I yawn, the spot between my legs aching deliciously when I stretch. Judging by the way the sun’s shining through the gap in the curtain, I’ve overslept and won’t have time for my run this morning. Usually, I’m up before Lucas, and by the time he’s come down ready for work after waking up Lizzy, I’ve had my run and am busy with breakfast. Grumbling at the break in my routine, I drag myself out of bed and head to the bathroom. Leaning on the doorjamb, I watch as Lucas slowly drags the razor down his cheek while looking in the mirror. A couple of years ago, I bought him one of those electric ones, but he prefers to do it old school. His eyes lift, and a smile tilts his lips when he sees me in the mirror. A towel fits snugly around his hips, and I watch water drip from his tousled hair onto his back. He still has the power to take my breath away.
“I overslept.”
“I know. I switched your alarm off.” There’s no remorse in his expression or his shrug, even though he knows I hate it when my routine gets messed up. In two steps, he reaches me and cups my cheeks, placing a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. “You needed sleep more than a run. You hardly slept this weekend.”
I turn my head away, making him frown, but it disappears when I mumble “morning breath” on my way to the sink.
“You know I love how you smell and taste, no matter what time of day it is.” He chuckles while heading into the bedroom. Walking back with a pair of shorts in his hand, he drops the towel on the floor and quickly pulls it on.
“I’m going to wake up Lizzy.”
I nod absently. Walking up behind me, he places his warm hands on my shoulders and presses a quick kiss on my neck. “We’re running a bit late, so she’ll have to be happy with cereal this morning.”
I’m staring into the mirror, not really seeing anything, while I brush my teeth. After last night, I’m so fucking confused that I don’t want to think about anything. I had my Lucas in my arms last night and for now, that just has to be good enough. The vibration of Lucas’s phone buzzing on the bathroom counter pulls my eyes down to it. He must have forgotten it in his rush to get Lizzy up and going. The screen lights up with an incoming text and my hand drops to the sink, toothbrush forgotten.
Unknown number: Luc please talk to me. I know you’re angry that I called last night but please baby, I just need to see you again
I don’t know how long I stare at the phone, but the screen’s gone dark by the time I close my eyes.
Logic says that a heart is made of soft tissue, so it should be impossible to shatter. It can stop working. It can be torn apart or even blown apart. But shatter into a million tiny pieces? Impossible. Fuck logic. I dare logic to come look at its tiny remnants that are being absorbed into my blood, dissolving into nothing, until all that’s left pumping through my veins is a river of pain so intense it takes my breath away.
Luc, she called him Luc. No one calls him Luc, not even me. He hates that nickname.
“Please baby.”Those two words are seared into my retinas, eviscerating my ability to lie to myself. The thought of him having an affair hurt, but this, the reality of it? It’s so much worse.
