Page 31 of Trustfall

I try to come up with another reason without recounting my entire ugly past, but apparently my brain has closed down for business without letting me know.

“I…”

Tension crackles in the atmosphere as Luke inches closer to me.

“That’s what I thought. Come here.”

The fog in my head lifts for a brief moment.

“Why?” I blurt.

“Why?” he repeats, moving even closer. “You want me to say what we both know? Is that it? I fucking want you, Emory. I wanted you a month ago when you fell in front of your house. I wanted you when you pretended to check your mail, and when you got out of that guy's car. I wanted you when you crawled in the mud to get back at me, and when you ripped your shirt to stop my bleeding, and when you kissed me like I was your air. I wanted you when you were being a brat at the bar, and I had to carry you out. I wanted you when you asked me to stay with you and fell asleep in my arms. And now I don't just want you—I need you. You drive me crazy. I don't care that you're Nate's little sister. Right now, all I need is to make you feel good.”

I'm not sure if it's his confession or the rush of adrenaline, but my nervous energy suddenly gives way to a bold confidence I never knew I had.

“Okay,” I say, surprised by the determination in my own voice. I'm tired of thinking. Tired of fighting myself. Tired of always doing what I think everyone else wants. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow or a week from now. All I know is that I want Luke’s hands on me.

“Okay, what, Emory? You’re going to have to be really fucking specific because my self-control is hanging by a thread here.”

“What you said earlier.”

“Nope.” He leans in closer, his face mere inches from mine. “You have to say it.”

I huff out a breath. “Make me come, Luke,” I whisper.

I see the exact moment that his last shred of control breaks, his icy eyes turning almost black as he pats his thigh.

“Come here.”

“Wait—here? Outside?”

“Yes, Emory. Here. This is what you want, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop fucking stalling and sit on my lap.”

I don’t think. I just do as I’m told, taking the blanket off my legs and sliding over the side of my chair to sink down on his lap, my back against his heaving chest. Gone is the man who was nervous about asking me to stay at his house. This version of Luke is commanding and dominant, and if I’m being honest, hot as all hell.

He leans us back on the lounger and pulls my shirt up so my breasts are exposed. I’m so hot I don’t even notice the chill in the air anymore. He squeezes my breast and then moves his thumb over my nipple, flicking it lightly before rolling it between his thumb and index finger. The move goes straight to my core, and I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips.

“Uh-uh,” he chides. “You have to be quiet. We don’t want to wake up the neighbors, Emory. Can you be quiet for me, or do I need to cover your mouth?”

His hand leaves my nipple and glides further and further down until his fingers reach my panties. He dips one finger beneath the waistband.

“No, I’ll be—fuck.” How has he only just grazed my clit, and I already feel like I’m going to come?

“Mmm, cover your mouth it is.” He brings his hand up and holds it firmly against my lips. Then he continues to stroke my clit with his other hand. Up and down. With each stroke, I moan against his palm, but it comes out muffled.

“You’re so responsive, Em, and you’re fucking soaked. You like getting your clit rubbed, baby?”

I nod frantically and make another strangled sound.

“That’s what I thought,” he hums. “I bet you would like getting your pussy stuffed with my fingers, too.”

I try to say “yes,” but it’s barely audible with his hand firmly pressed against my lips.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you. Guess I’ll have to take that gush I just felt as a yes.” He thrusts a finger in me. I almost cry out against his hand on my mouth, but I manage to restrain myself, and it comes out as a whimper instead.

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