Page 100 of Lethal Torture
When she’s gone, I curl my toes against his leg. “Subtle,” I murmur.
Luke’s hand closes around my foot and takes it out of his trousers, then lifts it atop his thigh. “And now I’m going to make you wait.”
“Oh, really?” I point my toe and slide my foot upward beneath the table until it hits the unmistakable thick shaft beneath his trousers.
Luke takes a mouthful of whiskey, his eyes boring into mine. “Keep that up,” he says in a barely audible growl, “and I’ll bend you over the fucking table right here, woman.”
I gasp, moisture slicking my thighs.
“I can see your nipples through that blouse,” he says in the same low voice, his eyes roaming around the plane, then back to me. “And that hot fucking lace thing that is barely covering them.”
I undo the top button, exposing the upper curve of my breasts. “You mean this hot lace thing?” I undo another button, giving him a proper look at the lingerie I chose with exactly this kind of moment in mind.
Luke’s cock surges against my foot. “Oh, that’s the one.”
“I like this game,” I murmur huskily, sipping my champagne.
“Really.” His hand wraps around my foot, his thumb pressing into the arch of it through the silk stocking, then slowly traveling the length of my entire foot, his fingers on the top, thumb firm on the sole. Up, and down, the movement so slow and sensualmy head spins as I lean back in my chair so my whole body arches, my breasts thrusting out toward him. I put my drink down so I don’t spill it, biting my lip so I don’t groan. His fingers slowly manipulate each toe, then trace back toward my ankle and up my bent leg.
He pauses when he reaches my knee, and my eyes fly open as his thumb caresses the hollow beneath it.
Luke grins wickedly. “Still like this game?” His eyes drop pointedly to my breasts, straining against my blouse.
I lift an eyebrow and undo another button. Dipping my fingers into the champagne, I drip liquid over the silk covering one nipple, then the other.
Luke’s grin disappears, his eyes narrowing.
I roll the arch of my foot over the hard ridge of his cock, straining for release beneath his trousers. His hand tightens on my leg.
I raise my champagne to my lips, then deliberately spill a little as I take a drink. “Oh,” I say innocently, dropping my eyes to the rivulet trickling down between my breasts, then raising them slowly to Luke as I draw a finger up my cleavage to collect the spill. “Look what I did.” I ease my finger between my lips and slowly lick it clean, my eyes never leaving his.
He stares at me across the table, turquoise eyes blazing like a backlit storm.
I arch my back and stroke my toes down his shaft.
Luke’s eyes drop to my nipples, clearly outlined beneath the damp silk.
“Are you still going to make me wait?” I take another sip, peeping at him over the rim of the glass.
Beneath the table, he lifts my foot from his cock and places it slowly on the floor. “That foot looks like it’s going to be trouble,” he says, loudly enough for the rest of the plane to hear. “We’d better get you taken care of. Here.” He stands up, lifting the tableand turning at the same time, hiding his pounding hard-on from the rest of the plane, his body shielding my disheveled state as he leans over to undo my seat belt. “Let me help you.”
The fingers of one hand slip between my folds as he unclips my belt with the other. I make a small, uncontrollable noise.
“I know,” he says with mock sympathy, stroking me ruthlessly as he lifts me to standing. “It’s torture, isn’t it?”
He shifts me in front of him, his arms wrapped around my waist, walking me ahead of him. “Just lean on me,” he says in the same calm, businesslike voice. His long fingers slide beneath my bra, rolling my nipple between his fingers. Reaching out with the other hand, he pushes the door handle down. I kick it open with the toe of one stockinged foot, and he pushes me through it, then kicks it shut with his own. I hear the snick of the lock.
Then his mouth is on my neck, one hand pushing my bra up and over my breasts and the other on my abdomen, pulling me back hard against him, his hard shaft pulsing against the swell of my ass.
A knock comes at the door.
We both freeze.
Although, given the molten lava between my legs and Luke’s throbbing heat,freezeis possibly not the right choice of words.
“Miss Melikov, would you like your drinks brought in?” Carrie’s worried voice comes muffled through the door.
“No, thank you, Carrie.” I gasp as Luke’s hand slips between my thighs. “There’s a bar in here if I need anything.”
