Bastard's Bride (Loftry University Playthings 4)
Once he’s done, he pulls out. His fingers soon replace his cock as he starts to slam into me even harder. With his free hand, he rubs my clit, dragging out a loud, long moan. This is the sensation I crave, the feeling of him mastering my body, owning it.
My orgasm hits hard and fast, surprising both of us. It’s pure sensation and relief as it ripples over my body. My inner walls clamp down on his fingers so hard that it prevents him from gliding in and out. Instead, he has to use his arm and shoulder to keep pumping until the pleasure fades from my body, and I’m lying limp on the altar.
It’s how I feel - cold, depleted, spent, just utterly useless as I lie on the altar. My breaths come in heavy gasps as I fight past the tears that threaten to well up in my eyes. Now that my orgasm is over, all the pain and mental anguish come rushing back. Despite still feeling the heat of Luke’s body against my own, I feel far more alone than ever.
“Open.”
The moment my lips part, he shoves his fingers inside, forcing me to taste our combined essence. It’s raw, earthy, a combination of my sweeter, more neutral taste to his bitter and salty one. It’s erotic, and I find myself wrapping my lips around his thick digits to slick him clean.
His groan makes it all worth it. It replaces that feeling of emptiness and infuses me with warmth. I lap at his fingers, moaning as I get every last drop. When he finally pulls them out, I sigh and look up at him. I thought that our interlude would help start to repair things between us, but the pinched look in his eyes tells me otherwise.
Luke climbs down off of the altar and zips up his pants before helping me down. His touch is cold, distant, a far cry from just a few moments earlier. I can feel that barrier as it slams down between us, locking me out.
The drive home is even tenser than the earlier one, and honestly, I don’t want to go back there. Not yet. Even as I stare up at his reflection in the rearview mirror, my heart twists. There’s so much emotion there, but most of it doesn’t feel good. There’s a hurt that wafts off of him, like an injured animal that lashes out against everyone, even those with the best intentions.
When he parks, we both sit there in stony silence, neither of us wanting to break it first. All that ends up doing is leaving us sitting there looking at each other. Eventually, he lets out a huge sigh and slides out of the driver's seat before opening my door.
I take his hand as he helps me up, but still, I say nothing. I can’t. The words are locked behind my lips, refusing to come out. He leads me to the door and unlocks it before stooping down and scooping me into his arms. For that moment, I’m weightless, like nothing can get to me.
But I know I’ll have to come down sooner or later, and that thought sends a shaft of sorrow through my heart. He carries me over the threshold and kicks the door closed behind him with enough force to shake the frame. Unease slips in and takes hold until I’m nearly trembling in his arms.
When he takes me to the bedroom and tosses me on the bed, I fully expect him to join me there, fucking me one more time, but he doesn’t. He simply turns and heads back into the living room, taking his clothes off as he goes. From his body language, he plans to sleep out there, letting me have the bedroom.
The gesture is sweet, but it still hurts. I never wanted this. I never wanted him to be so far away. All I wanted was some time. Dropping my gaze to the bed, I spot a large box near the pillows. Curious, I look at the top where the words To My Shelaine are scrawled on the top.
I struggle to open it, unsure of what exactly I’ll find. When the top finally pops open, I grab the letter that sits just on the inside and set it down next to me. Within the box are an expensive camera and an assortment of lenses. Stunned, I turn back to the letter, my eyes welling with tears as I read it.
My dearest Shelaine,
I snooped through your stuff and found the pictures of you with your dad. I know storm chasing is something you like to do, and though I can never bring your dad back, I hope that we can continue where you both left off. You’re my tempestuous, impulsive, and utterly explosive girl, and I can’t wait to explore this huge world with you.
Your Luke
The words hit me in the heart like a knife and cut just as deep. In his own way, he does care about me. But can we ever move past this? Can I ever really open back up to him? The wall is still there, and I can feel it even with our distance.
Curling onto my side, I bring the letter to my chest and sob into the pillow. Everything just hurts so fucking much right now. The letter, the gift, my parents. All of it. It’s all just far too much. Tears pour from my eyes as my heart cracks open. It’s all just too fucking much.