Page 7 of Come to Me
But he keeps at it, his touch still light and slow and soft.
"You look too damn beautiful like this," he growls. He kisses me, as hard as I was kissing him. His tongue swirls around mine as he slides his hands under the fabric of my panties.
Jesus Christ. My body burns from his touch.
It's been too long.
I kiss him back even harder as he rubs me with long, slow strokes. His hand is so soft and hard all at once, and I arch to meet his touch.
But I need more.
I pull my dress to my waist, pull my panties out of the way. I don't care that someone could see. All I care about is him touching me, him delivering on his promise.
And he does. His soft touch gets harder, faster. I am so wet and desperate and full of need. He whispers in my ear, "I want to watch you come because it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
I grab his shoulders, digging my nails into his back as he rubs me. I get closer... and closer... and closer. Clenching as I fill with pleasure. And then his lips are on my neck, and my nails are on his skin. The pressure builds. It's too much. It's so much. It feels so damn good.
He rubs me, harder and harder, his kiss is harder and harder.
And then everything in my body... releases.
I groan, "Luke," and he does nothing to stop me.
I'm sure someone turns, someone sees, someone notices.
But I can't bring myself to care.
Chapter Two
Luke
Alyssa is relaxed on the drive home.
She doesn't even protest when I promise we can pick her car up tomorrow. Instead, she curls up in the passenger seat, her head on my shoulder, her arms wrapped around mine.
"You seem tired," I observe.
"Don't even start. I'm not that tired," she returns. Her lips curl into a smile. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, the hem of her dress sliding up her thighs.
I try and keep my eyes on the road, but it's hard. This is the first real date we've had in weeks.
We've both been busy. She's always gone when I wake up, and when she gets home, she barely has time to memorize her lines before she crashes on the couch.
She tries to stay up with me, lying next to me on the couch during one of myLaw and Ordermarathons. But she always falls asleep in my lap by the time the jury comes back with a guilty verdict.
I also used to be vigilant about getting out of work by six p.m., but I've been leaving work later and later.
"What are you thinking?" she asks.
She's tired. She must be--she's been working 14hour days for months. But she's as desperate as I am to make this night as amazing as it should be.
"You only have two weeks left of shooting."
"Thank God. I can't wait to do nothing," she sighs.
"Well, what if you did nothing with me?" I glance over at her.
"What do you have in mind?"
