It makes me homesick for that time.
“How long do you think it’ll be until my next heat?” I whisper.
“Thirty-four weeks,” he answers, punctuating his sentence with a deep, blistering kiss. Fuck me, I love that he tracks my cycle this closely. “Are you missing it?”
“Missing what?” I tease. I know exactly what he’s talking about. I just want to hear him say it.
His lips curl at the corners and his eyes darken. He looks like something that belongs outdoors.
He thrusts his fingers upward, electrifying my gland and rendering the bottom half of my body completely immobile. “Beingknotted,baby.”
My hips jerk in response and my ass clamps down hard on his fingers. “Mm.”
It’s hard to know exactly how to reply because it’s not like I’m not satisfied with the sex we have now. I am. I’m satisfied and then some. Branson is unreal in bed. He rocks my world on a daily basis. What we do together is so hot that I’ve spent at least half of the time since we got home splattered on my bedsheets like I’ve been dropped from a great height. I don’t want Branson to feel like what we have out of heat isn’t enough. “What we do now is amazing. It’s perfect, it’s just that I do…think of your knotfondly.”
“Fondly, huh?” A big shithead grin creeps up his face. He kisses me and fucks my gland until I gurgle and start writhing.
“Uh-huh,” I pant. “F-fondly.”
“’Cause, you know”—he licks into my mouth and fingers me deeply at the same time—“if you miss my knot, there are things I can do to help you with that.”
I push myself onto my elbows to get a better vantage of him. His eyes glint, pupils dilating ever so slightly before looking down at where we’re joined. My gaze follows his.
“T-things?” I splutter. “W-what kind of things?”
His fingers move inside me, pressing in deep and then slowly,slowly, withdrawing. He leaves his fingertips at my opening, stroking sensitive skin for a moment. A tantalizing, teasing moment.
The man knows how to hold my attention, that’s for fucking sure. I don’t move or breathe. I look down between my legs, eyes trained on his forearm, his wrist, his palm, and then they come into view, his slick fingers.
I watch, gnawing my bottom lip and not blinking.
My jaw drops.
My attention doesn’t waver.
He brings his hand up, so I have a perfect, uninterrupted view of it. It’s a big hand. Tanned and beautiful. A thick, meaty palm with long, sexy fingers.
I don’t take my eyes off his hand, but I’m dimly aware that he’s smiling darkly at me. I swallow hard, nerves and excitement gathering as I wait for him to speak. He turnshis hand slowly, showing me his palm, the back of his hand, and his palm again.
My attention is highly focused. Hyperfocused, I guess you could say. I take in his deep nail beds and the veins that meander under his skin.
I watch, rapt, as he curls his fingers into a fist. A tight, menacing fist. A tight, sexy-as-fuck fist that carries a promise almost too hot for me to handle.
I drop back onto the bed, gasping, as my hips begin to buck of their own volition.
“Is this something you think might help, Lucy?” murmurs my mate.
28
Lucien
“I’mfiiine,”Itrillloudly. No one asked, but I can tell from the worried glances my coworkers have been shooting at me since I took my lunch break that everyone on my team is concerned about how my first day back at work is going. “Totally fine.”
For believability, I tack on a jovial little chuckle. Unfortunately, it falls flat.
Minutes crawl by so slowly that it takes everything I have not to sob. I’m aching for Branson. Aching. And the worst of it is, for once, it’s not even my hole that’s aching for him. It’s my heart. It feels like it’s breaking. Like my chest has been cracked open and my heart is beating out of my chest for everyone to see. It’s awful.
Across the partition from me, I see Sadie approaching my desk, so I take a quick, deep breath and do my best to plaster a smile on my face.
