Destroy (Sordid 2.5)

It was just our mouths meeting, tentative and exploratory at first. Then, his body pressed into me. His firm chest flattened against mine, and beneath my bra, I tightened and pebbled in response. He brought his hips square, so the lines of our bodies were flush, and I sighed.

Luke’s tongue slipped deeper into my mouth as his hands began to inch down my neck. I shuddered, thrilled with this new experience. I was Goldilocks. In the bedroom, the first boy I’d slept with had been timid, and Sidor had been too rough. Would Luke’s touch be just right?

“This won’t,” he said between rasps, “get me to change my mind. Just so we’re clear. If we do anything, it’s because we want to and that’s it.”

He moved so his knees were between my legs, and his body pressed against me from chest to groin. His hardening erection pushed against my belly, and it sent a shockwave of lust to my center. This man held sway over my art, my career, and my life, and yet I felt like I was the one in control. I was high on desire, which dulled my capacity to think or care about anything else. What difference did it make anyway? I always did the wrong thing.

His fingertips traced the neckline of my blouse, following the vee down between my cleavage, even as my chest was heaving. I was confident enough in my abilities, yet still nervous. His gentle, almost teasing touch and the hot mouth locked on my neck drew out a tremble.

I choked on a moan when he pushed the gauzy fabric to the side and dipped a hand inside the cup of my bra, his fingers twitching. The pulse between my thighs roared, building into an ache.

“Okay,” I gasped. “What do I have to do to change your mind?” For added effect, I eased my hand along the front of his shirt, down his notched abdominals, and crept over the bulge beneath the zipper of his jeans.

He jerked back from me so abruptly I almost fell over, and his expression was disappointment. “No. I told you, this is separate from that. No strings, or this isn’t happening.”

I wasn’t going to give up without a fight, especially when my body was tingling. “We only do it if we want to.”

“Yeah.”

I channeled the most seductive voice I could. “Fine. What do you want to do?”

His shoulders lifted on a heavy breath. His eyes said he didn’t trust me, but his desire won out. “I want you to get on your knees.”

A sticky lump grew in my throat, making it hard to swallow. I was eager to see how far this spark between us went and was terrified I’d imagined it. I lowered slowly to kneel on the wood floor. It was gorgeous but not soft. Last time I’d knelt on a hard floor, I’d been in a hospital room and changed the course of my life. Would I be able to save myself this time?

I kept my gaze on Luke’s back as he went to the large patio doors and shut them with a dull thud.

It was getting dark outside, cloaking the studio in shadows, and as he stalked toward me, I trembled so hard my knees squealed against the floor. His long, artistic fingers moved to the button of his jeans, undoing it with a tug. Then, his zipper rang out.

It was really happening.

My gaze crept steadily up from the fly of his jeans, over his tight white t-shirt that covered taut abs and developed muscle, until I reached his eyes. One step, then another, until his toes were against my knees. His expression was carnal. I wanted to capture it in my next project . . . if I ever got the chance to create another piece.

Luke said nothing, not that he needed to. I understood what he desired. For the first time in my life, I wanted it too. He’d undone his jeans, but they stayed in place, hugging his hips. He reached for me, skimming the tip of his index finger across my forehead, tracing it along my hairline, down until he cupped my cheek in his palm, his thumb pressed to my parted lips.

His finger slid inside my mouth. Just to the first bony knuckle, and then it retreated so he could drag the wet pad of his thumb across my lips. It pressed inside my mouth once more, this time all the way in, and I felt him flat against my tongue. Our gazes were locked on each other.

The man I kneeled before looked so intense and determined I was grateful not to be standing. Luke had me bound and restrained far more than the few times I’d allowed my husband to do it physically. These invisible bindings were stronger than the steel handcuffs and restraints chained to my waist I’d worn when leaving the courthouse years ago, and far more pleasant.