Page 78 of The Hookup
Why couldn’t he ask her to stay because hewantedher to stay, because he wanted to be with her? Why did he always make it be about the other thing? She longed for the romance, for softness, and seduction, not for being treated like a whore.
“Why?” she asked, giving him another chance to redeem himself.
“Why, what?” he asked, grazing her neck with his lips. He slowly pulled the zipper all the way down again. “Why do I want to fuck you?”
“Why do you want me to stay?” She willed him for another answer, willed him not to see her as Good-Time-Kay for she no longer wanted to be that woman.
Today, he’d shown her his wounds, and she’d started to believe she could heal him and help him to change. She could do all these things, becausehewas slowly starting to change. His request just now was a remnant of his usual self. In time, he would come to see that he needed her for more than sex.
“It’s cold outside, and it’s warm in my bed.” He nuzzled her ear some more, and pressed his body against hers, and this time she felt his hardness against her back.
“I’m tired,” she said, fumbling around with the embroidered beads around her neckline, distracting herself from the harsh reality that his words had subjected her to. He had reminded her once more that what they had wasn’t normal, and that she still played along with this lewd arrangement, even when, most days, it was no longer enough.
He planted a wet kiss along her nape, nibbling her delicate skin between his lips, making her shiver.
“You want this, don’t you?” he whispered, mistaking her reaction for arousal. Now it’s my turn to pay you back.” He moved her hair to one side then kissed her neck with a gentleness that was rare. There was nothing fast, and urgent now. He was taking his time, drawing tiny, wet kisses along her neckline while his fingers stroked her jaw.
She should have been happy. He’d let her take care of him, a daring a move as any she had ever made, and now he was asking her to stay. He was a master at raising her hopes then shooting them down. And now she was caught between giving in, and giving him up; a thought flashing through her mind of the rollercoaster ride she was on with this man.
“But what about your rules?” she questioned, finding the courage because he had a chink in his armor and she had nothing to lose.
“Screw the rules.”
“Why now?” she asked, as he unzipped her, then slipped the dress off her shoulders so that it pooled around her ankles.
“It’s been a trying day for me,” he said, stroking her shoulders gently. With her dress off, his manhood jabbed her in the back. He pressed in harder, teasing her, letting her know.
She was expecting too much, if she hoped that Luke Hunter was falling in love with her, but this gentle way he had, right in this moment, of touching her and talking to her and pleading with her to stay, made her think there would be better times ahead.
This man made her happy when he was happy, and he made her miserable when he was not, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
“And you make things better,” he moaned, his hot breath warming her neck.
“Better?” she asked, sounding hopeful, giving in and sinking back into him. He was familiar now, each cell in her body recognizing everything about him, from the scent of his aftershave, to the feel of his arousal against her. His fingers on her and inside her, like his mouth all over her body—every part of him had already imprinted onto her.
She liked that he wasn’t rushing things, liked the way his hands circled around her hips and waist, slowly moving lower. Liked the way his lips made slow, sensual love to her neck and shoulders.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?” she asked, suddenly remembering. He lifted his mouth from her shoulder, his hands stilling around her hips but he remained silent.
“Because it wasn’t important.”
This was going to take digging. “Why don’t you both get on?”
“Because we don’t.”
“But you do with Amanda.”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t giving her much. “What about—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, unclasping her bra, then peeling down her panties. She heard the soft shuffle of him undressing quickly behind her before his arms came down around her and he pressed his naked body against her. She sighed, throwing back her head as she sank back against his chest. He pushed her back to standing, then quickly made his way down her body, still behind her before falling to his knees and pleasuring her with his fingers and mouth. She barely managed to keep standing, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. She had barely managed to catch her breath when he pushed her onto the bed on all fours and thrust inside her.
And just as fast, he pulled out. “Condom,” he muttered, leaving her feeling cold, and exposed while he moved off the bed.
Her heart raced, and blood surged through her veins. In her fully aroused state she was about to tell him that the condom didn’t matter. That she might be pregnant. But before she could say anything, his cock slammed into her, and she cried out in ecstasy, and gratitude, and relief.
Her insides were like a raging forest fire as he owned her, pounding into her relentlessly, the let-up never coming. She could feel the tight pressure building in her belly, heat radiating outwards from her core, tipping her almost over, over, over, and just as she was on the precipice, he pulled out and turned her over onto her back. He thrust into her again, staring at her with an intensity he had never shown before. There was no ending of her body and his. They were one, and that was all that mattered. She needed him the way a fish needed water; without him she ceased to be. She was just an empty vessel, going about her day, but in his arms, she came alive.
