I smile. "You aren't even trying to convince me."
"Uh-huh." She nods, sinking her body into mine. "If I wanted to convince you, I'd step up my wardrobe."
I slide my hand under her T-shirt, my T-shirt actually. It's clinging to her, highlighting every inch of her chest.
"I like this wardrobe." I drag my fingertips over her soft skin. She feels so good.
She arches her back, fighting a deep desire to close her eyes. "But you'd prefer I get rid of it?"
I nod and slide my fingertips over her nipples. She groans, squeezing her thighs around me. I cup her breasts, rubbing my thumbs over her nipples slowly. She's putty in my hands, moaning and squirming and digging her hands into my back.
She kisses me again. It's hard and desperate, a demand. I squeeze her tighter, rub her harder. She moans into my mouth.
My blood rushes to my cock. All of her is soft and sweet, and I need to drink in that need. I need to feel her shaking and screaming around me.
She pulls her lips away from mine and brings them to my ear. "Fuck me, Luke. I need you inside me."
Jesus. That never gets old.
I pull her shirt, my shirt, over her head. She shudders, arching into me. Her eyes are on fire. She wants me. She wants me badly.
I throw away any intentions of teasing her until she begs me. She's already begging me. She's already desperate. And I need to be inside her, to make her feel so good she could die.
She kisses me, hard. Her tongue is in my mouth, her hands are on my shoulders. I slide my hands over the curve of her waist, soaking in the feeling of her soft skin.
My hands find her hips, and I pull her boxers to her knees. She shifts to help me, then kicks them off her feet.
I take a long look at her. Her delicate neck. Her lush tits. The dramatic curve of her hips. She's perfect and she's mine. She's in my lap, her thighs pressed into my hips, her eyes on me like she can't wait to fuck me.
I drag my hands back to her hips, and I pull her closer.
She groans, shifting into me, squeezing me tighter. "You're wearing too many clothes."
I nod and I press my lips against her neck. She sighs. Digs her nails into my shoulders again. It's sharp, a tiny hint of what I'll feel when I make her come.
I drag my fingertips over her thighs. She groans, holding on to me like she'll fall over if she loosens her grip. I stroke her inner thighs as softly as I can. Until she's shaking.
"Luke..."
I slide my fingers over her clit. She gasps and digs her nails harder into my shoulders. Her body shifts into mine. Her lips find mine. She kisses me, hard, plunging her tongue into my mouth as I stroke her.
She releases my kiss, shifting so her tits are pressed against my cheeks. It's practically a plea. I draw circles around her nipple with my tongue.
Her nails sink into my skin. Her eyes press together as she groans. I stroke her again, draw another circle. Again. Again. Again.
She moans, pressing her body into mine, her breasts into my mouth. I suck on her nipple, harder and harder and harder. I bring my free hand to her chest, cupping her breast and rubbing my fingers over her nipple.
And I stroke her. Again and again and again.
Her legs shake. Her nails dig into my skin. She's panting, groaning, practically clawing at my shoulders. It's such a fucking beautiful sight, and I need more of it. I need her screaming in my ear, her nails so deep in my shoulders they draw blood.
I need to feel her come.
I stroke her. I sink my teeth into her nipple. Soft, then harder, harder, harder. She groans, her nails sharp against my shoulders, her head thrown back like she can't take it anymore.
"Luke," she groans.
And I stroke her. A little harder. A little faster.
She pants. "Fuck. I'm almost... Luke..."
Her breath strains. She groans. She screams. Her moans get higher, louder.
I stroke her, bite her, rub her.
And she groans into my ear. Her nails sink into my skin one last time, and she releases everything in a dramatic sigh. Her body relaxes into mine, her head resting against my shoulder.
She grabs my hand and presses it against the couch. Her lips hover over my ear. "One day, I'm going to make you go first."
"We'll see." I press my lips into hers.
She moves quickly, pulling my shirt over my head and gaping at me for a moment. Her hands are on my chest, digging into my skin like she could never possibly get enough of my body.
She slides her hands down my stomach. Over my jeans.
Heat spreads through my body. I need her hands on me. I need to be inside her.
She unzips my jeans and rubs me over my boxers. Fuck. My ache grows. I need her now.
I push my pants to my knees. Shift out of my boxers. I grab her hips and bring her closer, so my tip is straining against her.
Her eyes find mine. They're on fire. She wraps her fingers around my cock and slides me inside of her.
Fuck. Her eyes go wide. Her teeth sink into her lip. She feels so good. So warm, and tight, and wet. I squeeze her hips, rocking her over me.
She kisses me, grabbing my hands and planting them at my sides. Her hands find my shoulders and she presses me against the couch. She shifts, rocking into me again and again and again.
Her breathing strains. She groans. Close again.
I grab her ass and pull her body into mine. She squeezes my shoulders, riding me like I'm her plaything. Like she feels so damn good she can't help it.
I bring my tongue to her nipple. I need to feel her come again, to feel her cunt pulsing around me.
She groans, digging her nails into my shoulders. I suck on her nipple as she rocks into me. As her groans build again. They're higher this time. Louder.
Pleasure courses through me. I need those groans. Those screams.
I dig my nails into her ass. I sink my teeth into her nipple.
She rocks into me. "Luke," she groans. Her voice is low, heavy, like she can barely get it out.
I bite her harder.
"Luke." She sinks her nails into my skin.
Her moans build, higher and louder and higher and louder. She screams.
I can feel her coming, her squeezing my cock harder and harder, until everything releases and she's pulsing around me.
She collapses on me again, holding me tightly. Her eyes find mine. "Fuck me," she groans.
"Turn around."
She nods, shifting off me. I take one long look at her--she's fucking perfect--and move off the couch. She presses her lips into mine. Her hands wrap around my cock and she strokes me.
I grab her hips and turn her around, so my chest is pressed into her back.
"Bend over."
She leans over, pressing her hands into the couch. I have a perfect view of her ass, her hips. I dig my hands into her thighs, and I slide inside her.
She's still so wet, so warm, so tight. I squeeze her hips, pulling her body towards mine as I thrust into her.
She groans, a low deep groan that can only mean more.
I thrust into her. Again and again and again.
"Fuck me." She arches her back, her nails digging into the couch.
My body fills with pleasure. I move harder. Deeper. I thrust into her again and again and again.
I groan. She feels so damn good.
Her breath is low and heavy. "Fuck me, Luke. Come inside me."
I squeeze her hips. I thrust into her. Harder. Deeper. Again. Again. Again.
The ache builds. She's so tight around me, so warm, so wet, so perfect.
I thrust into her again.
She groans. "Come inside me." It's a demand.
I lose control of any conscious thought. It's only Alyssa. Her hips, her thighs, her cunt, her groans. I thrust into her, harder, and deeper, until the ache inside me is too much.
And I come, my cock pulsing inside her.
She sighs in pleasure, collapsing on the couch. I lie next to her, our bodies pressed together in the tiny space.
There's no sense in trying to talk after this. No sense in anything but holding her all night.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The curtains are wide open, and the sunlight is falling over Alyssa's face. She looks so peaceful bathed in its glow. She sleeps on her side with her arms and legs crossed.
I still can't believe my luck that I get to wake up next to her.
She stirs and blinks her eyes open. Her lips curl into a smile as she looks me over. "What time is it?"
"Seven."
She groans and rolls towards the window. "What time do you need to be at the office?"
I brush a hair from her eyes. "Ryan demanded I show up at nine a.m., so..."
"You'll show up at four thirty to teach him a lesson?"
"Beautiful and smart."
She shakes her head. "Smart and beautiful." She puts emphasis on the smart, like it matters so much more than the beautiful.
It does, but it's hard to deny how goddamn beautiful she is.
Alyssa pushes herself upright. The sheets fall to the bed, revealing inches and inches of her skin. She never did get dressed last night.
She raises an eyebrow. ""I know how we could spend the extra time."
"How about we go out for breakfast?"
"I'd rather have you than breakfast."
I bite my tongue. This is such a perfect moment. I can't ruin it with her least favorite words. But we really do need to talk.
I slide out of bed. "How about coffee?"
Her eyes pass over my body. I didn't get dressed last night either.
"How about after?" She runs her tongue over her lips.
"How about
after
after breakfast?" I stretch my arms over my head so she can take her time gaping at me.
I have to admit, I love the way she stares at me.
"You're so cruel." She crosses her arms in faux irritation, but she's smiling ear to ear.
"I'd be happy to finally christen my desk."
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, and I bet it has nothing to do with the person sharing the office next to yours."
"Janine?"
"Yeah, it's Janine. Your assistant." She shifts off the bed. "And not that you want my ex-boyfriend to hear us fucking."
"It was a joke."
"It's not funny." She moves to the dresser, opens a drawer, her drawer, and arranges her outfit for the day.
I move closer to her. "It's a little funny."
She folds her arms again, but she's smiling. "Only because of how ridiculous Ryan's expression would be." She mimics Ryan, furrowing her brow and turning up her nose like she smells something disgusting.
I laugh and wrap my arms around her waist. "It's not usually this difficult to buy you coffee."
"I know."
"Is everything okay?"
She lets out a tiny hint of a sigh. "I'm only going out on the condition that you don't ask that question again."
"This morning or ever?"
She moves away from me. Steps into her underwear. "Ever would be too much to ask."
She pulls her dress over her head. No bra. She's not wearing a bra.
She's doing it just to torture me.
"Okay," I say. "We don't have to talk about anything but our coffee."
"Deal."
***
We dress and drive to Alyssa's favorite coffee spot in Santa Monica. It's a few blocks from the tourist mecca of Third Street Promenade, but this early it's nearly empty.
Alyssa is quiet, but she keeps her hand pressed against mine. I rack my brain for alternate ways of asking how she is, but I know that isn't the point.
She doesn't want to talk about how she feels today. I could wait until she's ready, but I can't. There's a sense of dread in my gut. Something is wrong, and I'm not going to let her suffer alone.
We order our drinks--they make one cup at a time at this place--and wait at a tiny table. The store is flooded with sunlight and it's falling over Alyssa like it was in bed.
She looks like an angel, like some kind of divine being dead set on locking everyone else out.
"Do you want to talk about anything?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Maybe later." She turns to me and offers a half-smile. "I'm okay. Really."
"Then why can't I shake the sense that something is horribly wrong?"
"It's your natural state of being." She laughs like it's a joke, but there's no joy on her face.
"Ally..."
The barista calls out our drinks and Alyssa rushes to the counter. I'm not going to get anything out of her like this.
I need another strategy.
Alyssa squeezes the drinks, thanks the barista, and returns to me. She hands me a cup and I take a sip. It's her coffee, a dark roast with plenty of honey and plenty of almond milk.
"You like it?" she asks.
"It tastes like you."
She bites her lip. There's something to her expression, but I can't place it.
She switches cups. "How about we take a walk?"
"Perfect."
It's warm outside, but there's a pleasant breeze. The air smells faintly of salt and the sun is bouncing off the concrete. Alyssa digs her sunglasses out of her purse and slides them on. She's practically hiding behind them.
But still, she presses her hand against mine. She squeezes tight.
There has to be some way I can get her to open up here.
"You were at the movies when I called Saturday," I say.
She nods. "Yeah."
"What did you see."
She swallows, squeezing my hand a little tighter. "Some thriller. It wasn't all that memorable."
"Where did you see it?"
She pulls her hand away. "What are you getting at?"
We walk past Third Street, past the long string of chain stores and restaurants.
I try to take her hand, but she keeps it pressed against her hip.
"Will you please tell me what it is that's upsetting you?" I ask.
She presses her thumb and forefinger together. "I recall you promising you wouldn't ask me anymore questions about if I'm okay or not."
"Fine. I won't ask any questions. But are you going to stay a million miles away or are you going to be here with me?"