Luka keeps working his way up until he’s covering me with his hard body.
“Mm-hmm,” I encourage him, spreading my legs wide, urging him in.
He obliges me. Pressing his cock to my entrance, the head bobbing against my wet lips, he pauses to give me a long, languid kiss. Teasing me.
“Luka, I…yes…” I moan. I almost say more. It’s there on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down. I can’t tell him. I want to, but I can’t say it.
He enters me in fractions, carefully, fluidly filling me up and then pacing his strokes with a long thrust followed by a short pause until he pulls back and starts over. I shudder and moan, my grip tight on his biceps. I’ve never felt so connected to him—or anyone else—before. It’s amazing to be with Luka this way, each inch of him slowly filling me up and pulling back. His plump tip passes my lips with each thrust and I swear he’s going to make me lose my mind.
A second orgasm builds fast and hard, the tension inside me screaming to be uncoiled.
He cups my face and kisses me, the tenderness replaced with a calculated urgency. He’s holding himself back, but I feel his urge to come with me in the tightness of his muscles and the pace of his breathing. He moves one hand to my hair, sliding his fingers over my scalp. Tingles run from my head down the sides of my neck. He kisses there, nibbling along my collarbone while massaging his fingers through my hair.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Just like that.”
His cock is torturing me with slow pleasure. I can’t take another second. With a gasp I come hard, my voice filling the room with high-pitched moans as I unleash all the sensations and emotion that he’s built up in me. Luka tenses with a muffled groan as he shoots his own hot release. Then he collapses beside me, breathing heavily for a moment before pulling me close.
He wraps me up in his arms. When I glance at him, I see that his eyes are closed, his expression completely at ease. His entire body is relaxed, too, as if making love to me finally released some of the pent-up tension he’s had for so long.
My eyes go wide. He did, didn’t he? My husband made love to me.
That wasn’t sex. That wasn’t raw and hurried. It was careful, and tender, and thoughtful.
I blink back tears and snuggle into my husband. He kisses the top of my head and my heart nearly bursts. He may never say it out loud, how he really feels.
But he sure as hell just showed me.
Luka
Chapter 16
No matter what Brooklyn says, I can still hear my father’s voice in my head, telling me I never should have given my wife power over me by showing her my vulnerable side.
But the sex we had last night was almost an out-of-body experience, like one of those meditative moments of transcendence you hear about from the hippie yoga instructor you think is slightly crazy. Until you realize they might be onto something.
I’ve fucked more women than I can remember, but I’ve never felt anything like that before. Never once did I feel as driven to give someone else pleasure as I did with my wife after the interview yesterday. And then the connection I felt…I can’t explain it, and I don’t know that I need to. But what Idoknow is that I have to find a way to take back the pieces of myself that I exposed to her while she was screaming my name.
I get out of the shower and am almost done toweling off when my phone dings with an incoming text. I grab it from the vanity top and read the message with a hot rush of adrenaline.
So…we still on for today? ; )
I send a short reply and then head into the bedroom to get dressed.
When I pass the bed, I notice the sheets are still rumpled from the amazing sex Brooklyn and I had last night. She’s out right now, off at some “soulful” cycling class with Mateo, but her scent still permeates the room and I inhale, filling myself up with it even as I curse inwardly for doing so. She really got under my skin yesterday. Something about her sincerity before the interview, and the way she clung to my hand throughout the whole thing, busted through the wall I’ve been trying to keep between us.
Everything I saidon camera to Julia Espinoza was true—especially the part about Brooklyn teaching me the importance of honesty in relationships. My wife has definitely opened my eyes in that regard, even if it took the twist of her betrayal to make me understand why you need to be open with your partner. Before Brooklyn, I didn’t care about give and take either, or looking out for someone else’s feelings. Now I do, and for a while, our lives seemed better for it.
Am I ready to let her back in?
I have no idea.
She’s changed me in so many ways, and I’ve grown as a result. But I can’t bring myself to forget how she almost sold me and my company out to Elite Image. It doesn’t matter that she burned the contract before handing over any of DRM’s insider secrets—or that she ultimately chose our marriage over Elite’s offer. I can’t allow myself to trust my wife again.
I’m a fucking mess thanks to her.
Objectively, though, it doesn’t benefit anybody for me to let my emotions rage out of control. So I’m pulling away again, just like I always do.
It’s a defense mechanism—I know that. But there’s no alternative. This is just how I am.
