I arch my back, relishing the feel of him filling me. “Fuck me,” I beg, wanting him with a desperation I’ve never known.
All my thoughts center on him, of how he makes me feel, safe and desired. He’s an elixir I cannot wean myself off. How would I go on with my life should this not last? I don’t even want to think about it.
“Come for me.” It’s an order and the determination in his voice only makes me wetter.
“Make me,” I taunt, not wanting this to end, even if our dinner is still bubbling away on the stove in the other room. Let the loft burn, let the world burn for that matter, as long as I get to stay here with him.
He growls and tilts his pelvis. I gasp as his cock hits that sweet spot inside of me, a place few men have ever been able to reach during sex. Lucien, however, seems to have perfected the fucking stroke.
“Lucien.” I’m babbling his name, my breath stolen from my lungs, my skin pricking in sweat. I’m close. I can feel the start of the sweet tremors that are going to catapult through my body. I want to come. I’m desperate for release, for him to fuck me until I shatter.
“Oh yeah, that’s it’s baby,” he growls, and it’s enough to push me over the edge.
I come.
Hard.
It’s as sweet and delicious as I expected. I hold on to him, riding out and enjoying every last tremor that throttles through my body. He leans over me, his hands on either side of my head, watching me.
His gaze is intense, and I’m mesmerized by it. By him.
“I’m coming.” His voice is low and rough.
I’ve never watched a man come before and I’m hypnotized by the pleasure that crosses his handsome face. I want to make him come every day. I want gratification and sex with this man for as long as I can have it.
I want to please him and be there for him. I don’t know how I’ve become so gripped so quickly but I can’t help but think that he’s everything I’ve ever wanted. The type of man I wished I’d met on the beach in Spain instead of whom I did.
“Briar.”
My name on his lips sounds like a promise as he comes, thrusting into me until he’s spent. He slumps beside me on the bed, our breaths labored, still half-clothed but satisfied.
For now.
“I suppose we should go turn that pasta off. Hopefully it’s not burning the pot.” I turn and grin, not really wanting to go anywhere.
“I can’t hear the fire alarm yet, but I’ll go. You jump in the shower. I’ll finish up dinner.”
“Really?” I didn’t think he’d be the type of man to cook.
“Of course. You’re my guest and I do know how to take care of you…and how to cook pasta.”
“You certainly do,” I tease, not meaning food at all. Lucien gets the meaning of my words and chuckles, bussing my mouth with a quick kiss before standing. He rights his pants and leaves the room.
I sigh and stare after his muscular back a moment before staring up at the ceiling, marveling at my life right now.
I feel safe and content, two emotions I’ve not felt for a long time, and I don’t ever wish to leave. But I can’t hide here forever. While I don’t know what will happen between me and Lucien, I know I have to pull my big girl panties on and continue my life, even if my crazy ex refuses to do the same.
Something tells me, though, convincing Lucien of that will be a whole other battle I’ll have to forge through.
SIXTEEN
BRIAR
The driveto Moretti Global feels like sitting inside a pressure cooker. Lucien’s hand rests loosely on my leg, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. He’s the picture of control. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here trying to pretend I’m not reliving every second of last night.
Trying not to think of his hot skin, his commanding mouth, or his wicked hands.
Dear God, what was I thinking? I’m living under his roof, working for him—why did I let it happen? Or let it to continue to happen. Over and over again.
