Page 68 of Deep End

I groan into the mattress. “Please.”

He licks the trails of my tears. The stubble on his jaw brushes deliciously against my ear, and he lets out something that resembles a regretful, strained laugh. “You’re pretty when you beg.” Another kiss on my cheek. “You always are.”

I let out a second, frustrated groan, but he’s unbuttoning his jeans, pushing layers of fabric down his hips, his weight infinite as he lowers himself against my back, presses my legs together with his knees, and—

Oh my god.

He grunts. I gasp. The first glide of his cock between my thighs is choppy, too rough. Unlubricated. But then his thrust slides up, where he made me plenty wet just a minute ago.

“Jesus, you feel—” His hips find a steady rhythm, and it all works like a dream.

And that’s when I realize, heisfucking me. Not the way I want him to, maybe, but his head bumps my clit on every push. I can feel the hot length of him against my folds, and it’s good enough for me to beg for it.

“It’s like I made you up in my head, Scarlett.”

I’m babbling, wild and inappropriate, and he has to shush me again. He laughs once, a little rough. “You just can’t be quiet, can you?” This time it’s the palm of his hand wrapped against the lower side of my face, and biting into it is not an option.

I shouldn’t moan this loudly. I should be able to choke these sounds back. But I’m not and it’s okay, because for once the responsibility is not on me. This time,Lukasdecided, and I don’t get to be heard. Fresh air is hard to come by, his fingers span my entire jaw, and I wholly forget the burden of being myself for a few moments.

“Next time,” he promises in my ear, heavy and urgent and raspy, “I’m going to fuck you properly.”

I nod and roll my spine, trying to get closer to him. Failing. I have no control over this, and I hear myself whine, high-pitched and reedy.

“What am I gonna do next time? C’mon, Scarlett. Say it.”

He’s not unreasonable. Kind, really. His hand on my mouth loosens just enough to allow me to speak. Cool air fills my lungs. I open my mouth to whisper, shaky, “Next time, you’re going to—” A silent hitch when the head of his cock hits a perfect spot. I gasp, a hairbreadth from coming. If only he was to do it again, just once. Even staythere.

But heknows. And pulls back right before I slip over the edge.

“Not until you say it. Come on.”

I am so close. Soclose. “You’re going to . . . to fuck me properly.”

“It’s a promise, Scarlett.” He resumes thrusting, and I’m so wet now that the sounds are filthy, the slapping of his body against mine faster, and the noises I make—his palm seals against my mouth, a tight grip that I never want to lose. His movements stop. “And you’ll fucking take it.”

He bites a deep, guttural groan in the tender flesh of my shoulder, and when I feel the thick ropes of his come painting my cunt, I start convulsing against him. For long moments, I’m just pleasure and sensation, no awareness of anything else.

When I can breathe and think andbeagain, Lukas has shifted us so that he’s spooning me, held to his chest with both arms—at once precious cargoanda flight risk.

“Okay?” he asks.

His voice is so shaken, I wonder if that should be my line. I turn a little and lift my hand, letting it run through the soft hair at the side of his head, where it’s shorter than the top. He leans into it like a pet, still trying to catch his breath. “Yeah. You?”

He doesn’t say yes. What hedoessay is, “Fuck,” which means nothing and everything at once.

I nod in agreement, because yeah. Fuck.

Fuck, we’re really doing this.

Fuck, your roommates are here, and I’m sure I lost consciousness at some point, and I hope they had headphones on.

Fuck, I thought it would be good, and it still felt so much better than it should have.

“God, you are so . . .” Lukas pants, but never finishes the sentence. He presses sweet, open-mouthed, almost involuntary kisses to my neck and temple and collarbone. He licks my tears dry. His hands are—well, still strong, but his grip is nothing like before. He caresses me like I’m crystal, follows the line of my arm and my hips and my belly, a little desperate, a little hungry, a little incredulous, a little satisfied. “I’m going to clean you up in a minute. Just let me . . . I just want to touch you. Okay?”

I nod with a happy, sated smile.

And a handful of seconds later I fall asleep.

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