Page 49 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
Digging my nails into the masterpiece covering his shoulder blades, I leave my own marks on his flesh.
My hips bounce on his lap faster and harder, liking the sounds I elicit from the deep in his throat.
His finger caresses the gap between my breasts and trails down to the place we’re connected. “Your swollen clit needs my touch?”
“Yes,” I moan. “Please, t-touch me.”
He presses down my clit, the sensation intensifies and it becomes impossible to think.
Feathering his other hand down my spine and squeezing my ass hard. Luka tosses his head back for a split second and I stick my tongue to his Adam’s apple—needing to eat him. Lick him. Do anything I can to him.
The mounted peak under my tongue bobs as his swallows grow thicker and more rapid.
“I’ll put my cock inside you a thousand more times just to see your endless beauty coming undone by my touch.” Luka’s voice is a far whisper as his fingers lock around my throat.
“Ahh, Luka.”
“Come for me, wildflower.” He commands.
The orgasm blossoms when he chokes me lightly, and it takes over my body. I spasm around his pulsating cock while his spurts of cum jolt inside me.
I lean on his chest, he holds me and thrusts until his strokes become lazy and languid. Spreading his warmth through every fiber of my being.
My organs are buzzing, yet, the dread of the hour twists my stomach.
I’m happy and grateful for him. I say it from the bottom of my heart. My being. But I can’t shake the daunting feeling of this coming to an end.
We just started exploring. Scratching the surface of this inconceivable compatibility we have. And it’s over in the blink of an eye.
Am I acting like a teenage girl over him? Spending a day with someone shouldn’t make me feel so hollow but it does. Just knowing that I might not see him again unnerves me.
He is one of a kind even though I don’t know him. Not really. But I did witness him for over a day and he was nothing short of a gentleman with devil’s horns. The kind I like.
“What’s wrong?” His smooth chest expands under my touch. Underneath the grim reaper, a garden of big, detailed daffodils covers his chest, accompanied by the word,Family.
“I don’t want this to end.” I like our energy together.
His thumb and forefinger nudge my chin up. “It doesn’t have to be over. Not if you don’t want to. I don’t want to.” He is honest to a fault and that’s the first thing I liked about him. No bullshit. A straight shooter with a brilliant aim.
I nod in acceptance of his words.
He reaches for something on the table behind us while still staring at me. The familiar pen comes to view, he glances at me one last time before my hand has his full attention.
Branding me with his marks again. His eyes are searching between mine for a reaction.
Date me?
My heart hammers in my throat. Flowers bloom in my core at the thought. What if he is my person? And I have met him in the most unimaginable way.
Twirling his black strand between my fingers, “Will you stop marking me with your pen?”
“No promises. I think it’s my new hobby.”
I smirk. “Good, I like it.”
He mirrors my expression.
“Yes,” I reply.
