I want him to feel how much I’m his.
THIRTY-FIVE
LUCAS
Alex breaks the kiss, his lips leaving mine with a quiet, aching sound. I gasp, dazed, chasing after the loss of him even as his breath ghosts over my mouth.
Then, low and rough, his voice brushes against me like smoke.
“I’ve never gone down on my knees for anyone before,” he murmurs, voice tight with something dangerous and reverent. “But it seems I can’t fucking help it when it comes to you.”
My breath hitches.
Before I can make sense of what he means, his mouth is moving, trailing heat down the column of my neck, then across my shoulder, over the plane of my back. Slow, wet kisses that make my whole body light up. Every nerve is on fire. I close my eyes, leaning into it, lost in the warmth of his mouth on my spine, the reverence in every press of his lips.
And then I feel it.
His grip firm on my waist, grounding and possessive.
And when I open my eyes again, Alex is no longer standing.
He’s on his knees.
On his freaking knees.
My heart stutters as I look over my shoulder and down at him in disbelief. His broad hands are anchored to my hips, fingers pressing deep into my skin like he’s holding himself back from something more.
“Keep your hands on the counter,” he says, voice rough and commanding. “Spread your legs a little for me and arch your back.”
His words strike something molten inside me, my spine reacting before I even think. But I still can’t tear my gaze away from him—down on his knees for me. My lips part, a breath leaving me in a shaky rush.
He growls softly, eyes flicking up, locking on mine.
“Don’t look at me, Lucas. Look at the fucking mirror. And do as I say.”
The authority in his tone doesn’t scare me. It thrills me instead, making my cock even stiffer. My throat bobs hard, a shaky exhale leaving my lips as I slowly turn my gaze back to the mirror. My hands grip the counter’s edge, knuckles white. I spread my legs and arch my back just slightly, just enough and I feel my face flame as the realization hits:my ass is right in front of his face.
Exposed and open.
And when his fingers slide over the curve of my ass, strong and steady like he’s sculpting me from clay, I nearly moan from just that touch alone.
Then, soft kisses.
Slow and reverent, trailing over each cheek, his breath sends sharp, involuntary shivers up my spine. I squeeze my eyes shut, chest heaving, nerves twisting with anticipation and the kind of raw vulnerability I’ve never allowed myself to feel before.
When he spreads my ass open, I gasp.
The air is thick between us, hot and electric, and I can feel his breath exactly where I know he’s looking. My whole bodytenses with anticipation, and I bite my lower lip, holding back a noise that’s part whimper, part disbelief.
Then I feel it—his mouth against my hole.
A gentle kiss first. Then a soft breath against it that makes my knees threaten to give.
“You’re so pretty down here,” he rasps, voice low and rough like it’s dragged from someplace deep.
Oh fuck.
The first brush of his wet tongue as he licks my hole up and down makes me see stars, my eyes flutter shut as a sound escapes me, helpless and aching. It’s overwhelming how careful he is, how much he wants this, wants me. He isn’t rushing. He’s savoring.
