“Ouch.” He winced and covered his chest for a moment, his face pained.
“Are you okay?”
He recovered quickly. His deep scowl was deceptive, for there was a tilt to his lips that suggested he was holding back a smile. “Now you’re really asking for it.” He tickled her with more force.
“No, really, Luke, are you all right, are you hurt?”
He sighed and dropped back. “I got a bruise in my chest which is still a bit tender.”
Peyton fingered the patch. “How’d you get it?”
His face and the way he sealed his lips shut told her he was not going to confess. Peyton gave him a seductive glance and slowly ran two restless fingers up his chest. “Doing something heroic, saving a victim from drowning?”
“Right,” he said, rolling his eyes. “A Walking Miracle, they call me.”
She smiled wide. “Really?”
“No, I just like calling myself that.” He dove his fingers under her arms and tickled her some more, and this time she could hardly speak through her laughter.
“Luke, no, please!”
“Please what?” His voice dropped to a murmur, and his big hands slid from her ribs to cradle her breasts, his lips a hairbreadth from her hers. Smiling, she linked her hands behind his neck at the same time that his thumbs slowly caressed the tips of her breasts. “Please what, Peyton?” he insisted, his eyes darkening. She turned somber, and her voice throbbed with aching desire, her sex clenching with need.
“Please,” she breathed.
“Anything you want,” he whispered, and his lips slowly closed down on hers.
The kiss was languorous but exquisitely powerful, the strokes of his tongue like molten lava warming all of her extremities. The hammock swung to and fro as Luke shifted his weight and slid a hand up her bare legs.
“I love it that you’re ready for me before I even start playing with you.” His murmur was almost drowned out by the sea nearby, and when Peyton nodded breathlessly, he groaned and dipped his head so that his tongue worked hers again and his fingers found her just like he said. Super wet. Super
ready.
Her womb rippled in drenched heat by the time he cupped her with his large, dry hand, and he growled in male delight and deepened his kiss as he inserted one long finger inside her.
She cried out and lifted her hips, biting his lower lip, and he obliged her silent pleas by inserting a second finger. “That what you want? Huh? Hmm, baby?” His whisper caressed the skin of her lips and travelled down her spine, soft like cotton, causing a slow melting in her bones.
“Please,” she breathed, clutching him closer.
His body crowded hers, and his skin was hot and smooth against every part that it touched hers. The front of his rigid thighs brushed against hers. His abdomen felt flush against the side of her hips and waist. And that rigid, long part of him throbbed in brutal pulses against her hipbone.
Almost violently, he sucked one of her breast tips and then lifted his head to watch her with an expression of pure animal hunger. “I’m obsessed with the way you feel when I’m inside you, Peyton. So tight and soaked as a river.”
He twisted both of his fingers inside her to prove his point, and his eyes blazed blue fire. “Do you want me here?”
Her pussy eagerly contracted—flaming in a painful burn—stimulated by the gentle caresses on her vaginal walls. “Yes, please, are you going to fuck me again?”
“Oh, baby, you bet.”
“Luke.” With every hot suckle he took from her breasts, a tremor rushed through her body. Another wanton shudder coursed through her as he screwed a third finger inside her. He scraped inside her channel until she twisted helplessly under him, the pleasure piercing her in half. “Luke, please, I want you inside me.”
“You do, do you now.” He carried his fingers, creamed from her sex, into his mouth. She watched, breathless, as he lapped up her juices like she was the most delicious morsel he’d ever tasted. “Good things come to those who wait, Miss Lane.”
His eyes glimmered with intent as he lowered his hands and palmed the large globes of her breasts. “Ooh!” she cried when he pinched her nipples with his damp fingers, then he rolled them between his thumb and forefinger.
“Yeah?” he groaned, watching her, “You like that? Makes you hot?”
His expert hands stimulated her breasts in a way that clenched her pussy walls with hot little ripples of anticipation, and Peyton could barely suck in a breath. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he pinched and thumbed her aching nipples. “Yes, Luke, hot, so hot,” she gasped.