Lucas gave his heart completely, no matter what she did to him or how she aggravated him. She loved him with everything she had, and though she’d pushed him away, she wanted him to be proud of her, wanted him to see how far she’d brought herself. She wanted to be worthy of his dedication. For once in her life, she
wanted
to be worthy of the best.
“Because I’m not Kyle?” Doubt stained his voice for the first time in years.
She shook her head. “We both know I never wanted Kyle. I just
needed
to want him.”
Relief softened his expression, only to drift into a frown of confusion. “Why?”
Finally, he was asking for the truth.
“Kyle doesn’t get under my skin. I care about him, but he’s a buddy. Someone I can mother if I have to. I don’t need him. The way I need you is…terrifying.” She owed him these truths, even if they stripped her bare, so she kept saying them, wondering at the strange lightness that came over her after every revealing word. “I have no control around you, Lucas. You look at me and I feel like I’m yours. Not my own. You don’t know how frightening that is.”
“Yes, I do,” he whispered, breaking into her confession. “That’s exactly how I’ve felt since I was six years old. Owned, by the dirty little girl in pink ribbons and black bows. You may be mine, Belle, but I’m yours, too. With everything in me.”
“I don’t deserve you,” she cried, surprised that the words burst out of her again. Why didn’t he understand? Her stomach was so tight she thought she might be sick from it. “I’ve hurt you, I’ve pushed you away, I’ve—”
“Yes, you do, Belle,” he interrupted again, urgent and demanding, putting his hands on her shoulders as if to brace her. “For better or worse, you deserve me and everything else good in the world. You just have to take us.”
She bowed her head, wishing she could reach his shoulder and rest her soul there. Wishing so much more. “I wish I could see what you see in me.”
“Me, too.” His sadness sent a tremor through her. And then he let go.
Painful realization slipped through her like a snake as his warmth left her shoulders.
He’s leaving…
He would kiss her goodbye and let her take the miracle of his love upstairs to her lonely bed to try and make it less than it was because that was what she always did. He would go home and hope to make more inroads to her heart on the next dare. The next chance.
He had no idea he was already there, far beyond her barriers into the very essence of her. She simply wasn’t whole without him. Tonight, she didn’t want to be empty any longer.
She took hold of his wrists, lifting her head and meeting his deep ocean gaze. “Show me.”
He tilted his head in silent question.
She leaned forward and grazed her lips across his in answer. Then she opened the car door and eased backward from the car, never letting her gaze slip from his. “Show me what you see in me, Lucas. Come upstairs and love me.”
There was hope in his eyes, she watched it flare. Then recede. “It has to mean something to you, Belle. As much as it means to me. I want your heart.”
She smiled at his cautiousness. She couldn’t even blame him for being worried. She would be too if she had to deal with herself as often as he did.
“I want you to come up because I—” Her throat tightened again, clamping hard on the words—the emotions—she’d never shared with anyone. She wanted to tell him how she felt, to give him what he did deserve, but the fear turned strangling and words became impossible.
But because he was Lucas, he understood anyway.
He nodded and she found she could breathe again. She could smile. She could even feel the glow inside her of something pure and wonderful. He rose from the car, closed the car door and circled the machine until he was before her, once again standing under the streetlamp as he had that first night he’d taken her to her bed. Only this time, he was letting her lead.
“Take me home, Belle.”
It wasn’t a vow…but it should have been. She smiled up at him, took his hands and led the way to her door.
Chapter Nine
His hands trembled. It wasn’t debonair, it wasn’t smooth and it sure as hell wasn’t sexy, but Lucas couldn’t make them stop. Was this how dreams came true? Was this the way a lifetime’s desires came together? With shaking hands and a tiny zipper sliding through a cloud of fabric?
He felt Belinda’s small hands tugging on the bowtie, the fabric sliding apart at her will. Her dress sagged and she let him tug it over her slim hips until it sank to the floor. She stepped out of it, standing in only the tiniest bits of silk and lace he’d ever seen. A tiny satin bra, black silk panties that made love to her faint curves and the antique garter belt he’d thought he’d go to hell for buying from the young, smiling clerk last week. Belinda wore them all; the gifts he’d tucked under pillows, behind tools, inside her lingerie drawer—right down to the beribboned black sheer stockings on those goddess-shaped legs.
He had to ease the air into his lungs slowly to keep from taking hold of her right then, trembling hands be damned.
“I didn’t know you were wearing those,” he managed to say.
“If you did, we’d have put on a pretty good show under that horse statue, wouldn’t we?” She wore that sensual smile again, turning to show him the nonexistent back of her panty ensemble, jutting her hip to the side while she looked over her shoulder.
“Sweetheart, the Donnas would have been excommunicated just for
hearing
what I want to do with you.”
“So why are you still dressed?” She walked to the edge of her bed, still wearing the black heels no one had been able to see under the hem of her gown.
“I’m trying to figure out why you wore all this for me.” Had she meant to reward him? Or in case she needed comforting? More sex as a weapon? He braced himself for hurt, holding on to the sincerity that had been on her face in the car. She loved him. He knew it. She’d almost said as much before she choked on it. He tried not to be bruised by that particular stumble, given his own inability to speak properly when he was nervous. Someday she’d say it. He could wait.
She scrambled some of his thought processes by sitting on the fluffy duvet on her bed, stretching her body across it and lying on her side to study him. Suddenly, she was the curviest woman he’d ever seen, every lean length of her leading to the next rise or fall of her body.
“Well, my evil plan was to torment you from time to time tonight by letting you know I was wearing the stockings.”
He didn’t remember any particular skirt lifting action. “But?”
“But after I put them on I realized how much I liked them.”
“You did?”
She nodded slowly, something that sounded like a purr coming from her throat. “It felt like I had your hands all over me.”
He swallowed. “And you liked that?”
She lolled onto her back, her dark eyes still trained on his, her full lips parted slightly. “I
always
like that.” She pointed a lazy finger at him. “Too. Many. Clothes, Lonnigan.”
Zorro had less accuracy than that finger’s haphazard slashes in the air. In the three steps it took him to reach her, his jacket was gone and his shirt was open. He stood between her parted knees while she rose up to sitting. Her hands immediately began undoing his belt while his own cupped the back of her head so he could turn her intent gaze up to his.
“I want your eyes open tonight, Belle.”
She leaned into his hold, still pulling the leather apart then starting on the slide catch. “Why?”
“Because.” His zipper rasped down over his eager cock, then her questing touch slipped past his underwear to caress him with both hands and he couldn’t quite say.
“Lucas,” she murmured, leaning forward, gliding her cheek against his hard flesh, letting him feel the caress of his name on her lips before opening them and taking him inside. Her hands stroked, but it was her tongue, hot and wet, that scrambled what was left of his senses. She sucked him in, taking torturous care only to slide the head past those delectable lips. Over and over, she pulled him free with a wet pop and a smile. Just when he got a grip on what he wanted to say, she took him all the way in, so deep he could feel the tight squeeze of her throat muscles working around him. She rumbled, sending pleasure up every nerve ending he had.
“Fuck, Belle—” He took hold of her short hair, pulling her back as gently as he could, all his control holding on by the thinnest of threads. Another second of that and he’d have come, completely losing his mind and not giving a shit.
She laughed, a sexy, husky sound that felt almost as good as what she’d just done. “Oh, Lucas, don’t you know by now? The only one I’ve ever seen when I closed my eyes was you.”
To hell with control.
He bent, half falling, half lifting her, so that they slid across the covers, his body fitting over hers like lost puzzle pieces.
She wasn’t laughing anymore, but she was making noise. Those warm moans of pleasure when his hand found her breasts. The groan when his lips left hers to push the bra away and fill his mouth with a sensitive tip. Her grip tightened on his shoulders as he laved the pebble point of her, drawing it deep. She arched with every stroke, pulling on his clothes until they were tangled and torn.
He rose away from her only to rip the shirt away and she helped him shuck the pants and briefs. Shoes and socks came off somehow—he didn’t know and he didn’t care—but soon enough, there was only her writhing form beneath him, the wet, wondrous slide of his tongue into her already slick pussy and the feel of ribbons on his neck when she tightened her thighs after his first taste.
Wildness took over. He couldn’t touch her—taste her—enough. He wanted to feel her everywhere. Memorize her sweetness, bring her more pleasure than she’d ever known. He searched out the nub of her clit, flicking it twice before sucking it in, pumping a finger into her slit in time with his tongue. She sobbed, pulling on his shoulders while she trembled as much as he did, crying out his name over and over again with each successive shudder. Only then did he remove the wet panties he’d pushed out of his way, easing them over her long, silken limbs.
Then he had a hell of a good time working his way back up, making her laugh, making her sigh, making her whimper by the time he reached her breasts once again. By then, he couldn’t hold himself back. Not in any way.
Looking down into her dark eyes, eyes that knew him to his soul and shone with the love she couldn’t admit, he did it for them both, slipping into her body as far as nature would allow. “I love you, Belle. We’re going to be together forever, I promise.”
It was hell to reel back, to remove himself even one inch from the wet grasp of her pussy, before he slid back into place, back where he belonged. She raised her legs high, her knees grazing the back of his arm, those tiny black bows tickling his ribs when she raised her hips to take him impossibly deeper.
“Always, Lucas,” she whispered, closing her eyes tight while her body gripped him to breathlessness. “Always you.”
He arched into her.
“
Only
you.”
The pace grew beyond his control. Her panted words in his ear became a sigh of surrender, an incredible gift of her love.
“Only
ever
you.”
Her hands clenched his, the thrusting of their bodies frenzied now, hearts beating wildly together as infinity rushed toward them at crushing speed.
She screamed when it reached her first, the clutch of her muscles sending him with her beyond a peak he’d never known, into a well of pleasure he never dreamed existed. And she was there with him, all his senses trained on her scent, her flavor, her hold.
Together, they drifted back to reality, finally taking breaths deep enough to fill their lungs. He smiled at the small kisses being tiredly peppered on his shoulder.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, pretty sure he hadn’t because she’d be kicking him otherwise. Assuming she still had use of her legs.
“As if I could tell.” Both her voice and her eyes were hazy and pleased. “But I think we drilled a hole right through my comforter.”
Her hands caressed his back, sliding back and forth as if to soothe him from his own passion. He couldn’t help it, he laughed into the hollow of her throat, kissing an apology there when she asked him what it was about.
“I didn’t even let you finish getting undressed,” he said, letting a boneless hand caress the silk on her thigh. “I think you still have your shoes on.”
“You
never
let me get undressed. I haven’t decided if you’re impatient or just kinky. But either one’s okay.” She kissed his cheek. “So am I,” she whispered, sending a shiver down his spine.
He rose up so he could give her the benefit of his best scowl. “You think sex on top of the blankets is kinky?”
“It is when you do it, Lonnigan.” She lifted her head to give him a soft, lingering kiss that made a joke of his typical recovery time. As he was still buried within her, she made a sound deep in her throat to note she’d felt his re-ignition. “Round two?”
“Oh yeah.” He reached a hand to claw at the fabric beneath them and lift her body enough to drag them from underneath. “Just wait ’til you see how kinky I get
under
the blankets.”
“So far, you’re all talk, Lonnigan.”
“I’ve
never
heard that before.” He pulled back, separating from her before deftly flipping her onto her belly. A quick swat to her ass had her laughing again.
When he smoothed his hand over the tantalizing curve he’d just spanked, she looked over her shoulder at him suspiciously. “What are you thinking now?”
He shrugged, tracing the crease where her buttock met her thigh. She let him move her opposite leg, bending her knee so that the pink folds of her sex opened to him. His finger followed the curve to the crease that separated her flesh, parting it to stroke her.
The suspicion fell away, her expression softening to sleepy acceptance. She lay her head down on her forearm, still watching him, the flush in her cheeks rising again.
Lucas allowed himself to play. One finger became two, sliding through her folds to caress her clit gently before stroking all the way up, parting the globes of flesh to the tight entrance between. She didn’t jump at the touch, instead lifting for him with a flick of her hips.
“Did you know I’ve always had a fascination with your ass?” he asked, going for conversational and ending up with a hoarse facsimile.
“Didn’t
you
ever wonder why my skirts are always so short around you?” she asked, her eyes sliding closed like a kitten’s in the sun.
He took advantage, leaning down to lick an upraised cheek.
This time she jumped.
“I’ve spent over twenty years thinking of all the things I want to do with it. Lick it. Suck it.” He punctuated the statement with a sucking kiss that made her whimper. “Bite it.” His teeth closed over the firm flesh just hard enough to win a squeal. Determined now, he moved his hand back down to her slit, gathering more of the cream there on his finger, bringing it back to her rosebud. The wet caress this time lasted longer, massaging to the sound of her soft moan. He repeated the process, gently applying more pressure each time until she was thoroughly wet and opening for him. Finally, he sank carefully inside, caressing, stretching and sucking at the sensitive spot he’d just bitten at the same time. She groaned, lifting higher for him, pushing back into the small thrust. Soon, he’d added a second finger and she’d begun reaching back to keep his mouth right where it was, devouring her flesh until she began to ripple around his invading touch.
He watched her over the tempting swell of flesh, waiting for those dark eyes of hers to open, listening to her pant in rising passion. “But I can’t tell you how many years I’ve dreamed about fucking it.”
She took her time, arching her back, her eyes swimming with want as she pushed a pillow under her own hips. “What are you waiting for then?”
Lucas rose up behind her, taking a whole second to stare at her, spread and dripping for him, determined to memorize this moment forever. Gripping himself, he rubbed the glistening head of his cock through her folds, smiling tightly at her muffled swearing when he dipped into her pussy. She was wet, so slick and wet, and he wanted to keep her that way. But teasing her was tormenting himself. He gave her three hard thrusts, coating himself in her before pulling out and raising his cock to her waiting ass. He rubbed against the tight entrance, pushing the broad head carefully forward, giving her time to adjust. Time for himself, because that tightness threatened his control already. He spread her cheeks further with his hands, loosening her enough to allow him in.
Second after agonizing second, he pushed, finally easing past the ring of pressure, sinking into depths both unfamiliar and devastating to his control. She flexed, backing into him and taking more of his length.
“Oh, God, Lucas,” she whimpered, for a second freezing him into worrying he might be hurting her, but she circled her hips and pushed back for more. “All of you. Gimme it all.”
In that instant, control finally snapped. He sank all the way down, buried to the hilt, his body draped over hers, his hips pumping into her. She reached back for him with both hands. Unable to ignore the blatant offer of trust, he levered himself up, taking hold of her at the elbows and leaning back. Then it became a blur of motion, pounding into her while she shuddered around him, coming with a scream that didn’t seem to stop. Lost, Lucas gave himself over to the white hot demand in his cock, fucking her until oblivion swallowed him whole.