I look up at him, and our eyes lock.
“I’ll tell you what I want,” he says. “I want you to stop all the yapping. Unless you’re screaming in pleasure, everything else that comes out of your mouth just sounds like noise.”
I’m about to hiss a retort when he slips a hand under my skirt, sliding it up my thigh, making my stomach flutter in anticipation.
“In fact, why don’t I help you out with that?” he says, his hand stroking higher.
He groans when he realizes I’m not wearing panties. I start to shift away, but he sinks to his knees before me, and I lose my willpower when I see that dark head level between my legs.
“Spread,” Luka commands.
My core goes instantly hot and achy, and I clench my jaw as a shiver of desire spreads through me. I’m powerless against my own need, legs spreading wide as my hands clasp around the back of Luka’s head. His fingers trace the shape of my pussy, making me instantly wet. I tilt my head back, closing my eyes as he presses a kiss to my apex, and then suddenly, his tongue is where I need it the most. Licking and lapping at my clit. Stroking and circling, hot and wet.
“Mmm,” I murmur. He’s too good at this.
My throaty moans seem to encourage him, and he starts eating me harder and faster, throwing himself into it. A fresh wave of pleasure rolls over me, making my knees go weak. Luka grips my hips to hold me steady as he feasts between my legs. Sucking me, tonguing me, letting me control the rhythm as I fuck his mouth. God, yes. His mouth, his teeth, his fucking tongue. This is why I can never say no.
I can’t hold back, and all too soon my cries are echoing against the ceiling as an intense orgasm crashes through me, the contractions pulsing deep and so fast that I wish I could slow it down. I’m groaning his name, panting for breath, making the sounds I know he wants to hear.
Luka always gets what he wants. The thought plays in my mind as he slips his fingers inside me and strokes soft and slow until a second helpless wave of ecstasy rocks me to the core.
He finally pulls away and smooths my skirt, looking up at me while running his hand over his mouth. Slowly, he stands. His eyes seem softer now, less antagonistic. Maybe it’s my post-orgasmic state, but I find myself reaching for him as I try to recover my breathing.
But of course, he moves away, either not noticing or not caring.
“I’ll be in my office the rest of the night if you need anything.”
My legs are still shaking when I push away from the counter and head to my room to take a shower. Another brief episode of connection, only borne, once again, through sex. It makes my body feel good, but it does nothing for my heart.
I know plenty of women would give up everything to be in my place.
Too bad I feel like it could all disappear in an instant.
Luka
Chapter 22
The stress is killing me. If I weren’t blowing off steam with my wife from time to time, I’d probably be in the bottom of a bottle somewhere in Belize by now. But even though it drives me crazy sometimes, I have to admit it’s been nice working side by side with my brother.
Growing up without much of a father figure, our younger sister Emzee and I always looked up to Stefan. We followed him around like baby ducks, copying everything he did, fighting over his hand-me-down superhero tee shirts and impatiently waiting our turn to play videogames with him after school. I even got my MBA degree just like him, because I had no idea what I wanted to pursue in terms of higher education. Ever since I started working for the family business, though, it’s like I’m five years old all over again—just trying to impress my brother and make him proud. He took me on when I was recovering from an alcohol problem, and I want nothing more than to prove to him that the decision he made was the right one.
So yeah, no pressure on today’s big meetingat all.
The advertising head of Maxilene is due at the DRM offices any minute now, to go over the biggest campaign that we’ve ever entertained. I’ve got to be on my A-game.
Not just for Danica Rose Management, but for Brooklyn’s sake too.
Stefan is staring at me from across his desk, tapping the end of his pen on his desk calendar like he’s drumming in a rock band. It’s one of those things he does when he’s lost in thought or trying to work something out. I hope he’s working it out.
“You know what kinds of questions you’re going to ask them?” my brother finally asks.
“Yes, of course,” I lie.
I’m not going to tell him that I plan to just go with the flow, per usual. According to Stefan, any venture embarked upon without the proper planning (down to the last detail), isn’t worth doing—but I’m really not in the mood for a lecture on my unpreparedness.
“I’m surprised they asked to meet with you and not me.” He tosses the pen down. “That leads me to assume they’re interested in casting your wife specifically.”
I shrug noncommittally, but inside I’m tense as hell. This is Brooklyn’s dream. I potentially hold it in my hands as I meet with the Maxilene exec today. The thought that I could fuck this up for her has me more on edge than I’ve been in a while. Because truthfully, the tension between my wife and me is about to break us—and this could change all that.
