I run my hands over his hard, sculpted torso, moaning his name as I grind my hips, fucking his strong, thick fingers. Everything is so unrushed. So good. So quiet yet passionate. He takes his sweet, sweet time working my body, pinning me with a kiss that doesn’t end while his masterful hands bring me right to the edge of an orgasm.
“Luka, please, please,” I whimper.
He moans and lightens his touch.
“I forgot how good it sounds when you beg,” he says.
Squeezing his shoulder, I squirm, but he doesn’t let me get there. “You’re teasing me.”
“Hell yes I am.”
I laugh. “Well, stop!”
A soft laugh wells from deep in his throat. It’s agonizing and I have to resist grabbing his hand and forcing him to finish me off. My plea only seems to encourage him to kiss me more slowly, to trail his lips to my breasts where he takes my nipples into his hot mouth one at a time and gently sucks them while continuing his agonizing torture between my legs.
I stop fighting and relax at his languid pace. He’s taking his time, worshipping me.
Making love to me.
My scalp tingles with the realization that he’s giving me exactly what I’ve been longing for. The sweet, passionate lovemaking we missed on our honeymoon—and the intimacy we’ve struggled to maintain ever since.
I ride the rim of release, my breath coming faster and harder as I try to hold back. Suddenly, his thick cock slides into me. My legs wrap around his firm ass, the feel of him stretching and filling me pushing me into a pleasure spiral. Whispering his name, I buck my hips as I come, taking him as deep as I can, my pussy clenching around him in sweet, tight contractions. “Oh my God,” I moan, over and over. I’m incapable of further speech.
Rolling me on top of him, he goes still, letting me ride out the last waves of sensation. I can hardly see straight as I look down at him, but I notice that he’s staring at me so intently, so tenderly, that my heart skips a beat. I kiss him, claiming him as he starts to move inside me, thrusting up with soft groans of satisfaction. He takes his time, hands tight on my hips, and we soon find a rhythm that has both of us gasping and clinging to the other as tightly as we can.
Another heady orgasm builds just as my heart swells with the reminder that I am very much in love with my husband. Maybe he isn’t saying the words, but he doesn’t have to.
“Come inside me,” I whisper.
“Fuck yeah,” he gasps, his body going tense.
We hold each other as we climax in tandem, riding the crest together. We’re moaning, breathless, lost inside the pleasure as the island breeze cools the sweat on our skin. I’m still coming down, feeling the tingles radiating through my body, as he pulls me down against his chest. I can hear his heart beating against my ear, strong and sure, and I smile as my eyes close.
This time, it feels like he’s the one who’s never letting go.
Brooklyn
Chapter 27
As I spin across the dance floor in my husband’s arms, another woman tries to cut in with a light tap on my shoulder and a saucy grin. Instead of yielding, I block her with a polite yet venomous stare and a firm shake of my head.
I only just got Luka back and I’m not about to let him go, especially to some sassy young thing in a shimmery Hervé Léger bandage dress that looks like it was painted onto her body.
Tonight is a big deal. Danica Rose Management is co-hosting the black-tie event during which the model chosen as the next face of Maxilene—for the company’s biggest worldwide modeling campaign to date—will be announced. There are press and media people everywhere, models galore, and tons of bigwigs in the industry, all in fancy dress. And the menu is enough to make your head spin. Extravagant bespoke cocktails designed just for this party, with names like “Six-two in heels” and “The Gaultier,” gourmet hors d’oeuvres dusted in shaved truffles and gold leaf, and a variety of voices (and accents) shouting so loud to be heard over the music that I can’t believe anyone can carry on a conversation.
It’s fun to be here on the arm of someone so important, though. Even more fun to be the only one Luka takes out on the dance floor. I do love dancing. Unfortunately, I can barely keep up. My anxiety is so bad that I may as well have two left feet.
I’ve tried my best to remain calm since we returned from the Bahamas, knowing this day was rapidly approaching, but nothing has stopped me from losing major sleep over it. The worst part is, I know Luka has to havesomeinsider information…but he won’t share it with me.
Begging and pleading has gotten me nowhere. My husband just holds up his hands, insisting that Guy hasn’t made any decisions yet but that I’m at the top of the running. Not helpful. Especially considering the fact that I’m up against some majorly famous faces that are far more established on the scene than I am. But maybe being a “fresh face” gives me an edge.
I hope so.
Despite his tight lips, Luka has done a great job distracting me at home. I was worried that once we got back to the real world, we’d go right back to fighting and angry sex and overall aggressive vibes at home. But it hasn’t been like that at all. In fact, things have been better than ever, and even though we haven’t verbally declared any feelings for each other, I can feel we’re closer now. We try to eat dinner together, we have movie nights, and we hold hands when we take Kibs out for his evening walk together.
We still have conflict sometimes, of course, but we try to talk it out now, and sometimes we can actually find a resolution. Other times, we just have to agree to disagree.
Another change: I’ve moved into his bedroom. Not officially—all of my stuff is still in the spare room—but most mornings that’s where I wake up, with one of his arms draped around me. We’re still finding our way together, but it seems like we’re on the right track. Like this is the version of us that we were always meant to be.
