Page 22 of Obsessing Over His Favorite
She tried to pull away, her legs shifting, but he held her steady with his weight. Her body shook with each touch, the fire building beneath her skin making it impossible to resist him.
His other hand moved to her second breast, rubbing, caressing—his hips pressing forward. She could feel the hard shape of him pushing against her thigh, thick and throbbing, making her breath stutter.
“Oh god…”
Then, without missing a beat, he reached over her toward the drawer on the bedside table, pulling it open in a single motion, rummaging through.
Emily’s eyes widened in panic.
‘What is he doing?’ Her gaze flew to his hand. ‘No. No. He’s looking for condoms.’
Her heart nearly stopped. ‘He’s serious. He’s really going to do it. I can’t let this happen. I don’t even remember ever sleeping with him. I barely know him. How can I have sex with him now? What if he finds out I’ve forgotten everything?’
She tried again, shoving at his chest, her hands desperate now. But he was heavy—muscular and unbothered by her struggling. He was still trailing kisses down her body, still teasing her with the kind of touch only a man who knew her far too well could deliver.
Then came the sound—his hand hitting the bottom of the drawer.
It was empty.
No condoms.
The drawer slammed shut with a hollow thud.
Her breath caught. She used the moment to push harder, finally making him lift his head. His eyes—still dark, still hooded with lust—searched her face. He was breathing hard, like he could barely hold himself back.
“M-Maybe… another day,” she whispered, trying to slide out from under him. Her fingers moved quickly to pull his hands out from her shirt, pushing against his chest.
"Now," he mumbled, his voice deep and husky as his face dipped again, tongue brushing her ear before trailing down to her neck. His hot breath fanned against her skin, sending a chill down her spine.
"No. I said no," Emily pushed at him, her palms pressing firmly against his chest, trying to create distance. She shoved his hands off her body, her resistance forceful this time.
His lips continued their path across her skin, slow and deliberate, tongue tracing every curve as if he owned her. But as her push became more persistent, more determined, he finally exhaled sharply—a breath soaked in frustration—and pulled back, lifting himself off her.
One arm propped on the bed beside her head, he leaned in, his brows furrowed and eyes shadowed in suspicion. "Are you not the same woman who used to beg me for it every night? You go through an entire box of condoms in a day, and now you’re playing shy?” His thumb brushed against her cheek, but his tone was clipped, hard. "What is going on with you tonight?"
“Nothing’s wrong,” Emily muttered, pulling his hand out from under her shirt and wrapping her arms protectively around her chest. “I just… don’t want to.”
Lucas stared at her. His jaw tightened, frustration written across every inch of his face. His eyes stayed locked on hers, and the way he looked at her made it clear—he didn’t believe a word.
But he pulled away, lifting his body off hers entirely. Anger sparked in his eyes.
‘She’s doing it again,’ he thought bitterly. ‘Throwing tantrums just to get a reaction out of me.’
“Really? That’s what you want?” he scoffed, his eyes were ice, shaking his head. “Fine. If that’s what you want—then that’s what you’ll get.”
Before she could respond, a knock came at the door.
“Mr. Cantrell?” Dillon’s voice came from outside. “Ms. Amelia just called. She says she’s not feeling well and wanted to know if you could come pick her up… take her to the hospital.”
Lucas growled under his breath, his eyes flaring with irritation. “If she’s not feeling well, tell her to call a damn ambulance!” he shouted back, his tone sharp enough to slice through the walls.
He turned back to Emily, his hands gripping her wrists and pinning them above her head as he bent down, lips grazing her skin again. His tongue moved over her neck, sliding lower, tracing every inch of her as she squirmed beneath him.
“Lucas—don’t. I told you, I don’t want to!” she cried, her chest rising rapidly with panic as he licked along her collarbone, his hands still roaming her body.
"You want it," he growled against her skin. “You just want me to beg for it. That’s not happening.”
His mouth latched onto her nipple again, tongue flicking and lips sucking. Her body betrayed her, arching involuntarily under the overwhelming heat of his touch.
