Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel) (19 page)

“That was one hot number, Peach,” he murmured, running his forefinger along the edge of her panties. “How wet did that make you?”

“Very,” she breathed, unable to stop herself from shifting closer to press against the bulge in his trousers. “But I’m supposed to . . .”

“Oh, you will,” he assured her, sliding his hand right down into her panties.

His fingers found her damp cleft, moving over her clit in that expert way he’d done before. Polly gasped. No question that Luke Stone knew what he was doing. She pushed against the pressure of his hand, aching for more. He slid one finger inside her and eased it back and forth.

“So tight,” he whispered. “Can’t wait to sink my cock into you.”

She couldn’t wait either. Going
all the way
no longer provoked anxiety, only hot anticipation. She submitted to the pressure of his hands and leaned forward as he brought her mouth to his. His tongue flickered out to stroke deliciously across the seam of her lips, his hands moving up to caress her breasts.

Hot shivers spilled through Polly. She braced herself on his shoulders and wiggled, stroking her clit against his cock. The heat of his shaft burned clear through the material of his trousers, and the thought of him pressing all that hard flesh into her . . .

She moaned against his mouth, her skin flushing. Through the fog of lust, she dimly remembered their agreement about the striptease, and she forced herself to pull back so she could work the mother-of-pearl buttons on his shirt.

She didn’t know much—okay, anything—about men’s clothing, but even she could tell that his shirt was made of the finest textured cotton, with the cut fitting his chest and shoulders to such perfection that it had to have been custom-tailored just for him.

And yet no matter how beautiful the shirt was, there was no comparison to the sight and feel of his body beneath—his smooth, muscular shoulders, the gorgeous slopes of his pecs leading down to his rigid abdomen and that trail of hair Polly wanted to follow with her tongue right down into the forbidden zone.

She bit her lower lip, gazing at the movement of her hands over his chest, her fingers tracing his washboard abs. She shifted on his lap again, pulling in a breath as her clit throbbed.

Lord. She was going to come just from touching him.

She slithered off his lap and got to her knees in front of him, her naked breasts swaying. She pressed her thighs together. Her head filled with the sound of her heartbeat and his breathing. After working the buckle of his belt, she pulled it off and unzipped his trousers.

The length of his erection pressed against her fingers. Pleasure throbbed in her blood, kindling a new fire of urgency in her sex. Polly couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, but she felt his gaze burning into her as she tugged his trousers and boxer briefs off. The sight of his thick cock—and the somewhat unnerving thought of how it would fit inside her—sparked her with a renewed rush of both anticipation and heat.

She curled her hand around his shaft, shifted until she was edged between his thighs, and then tentatively licked the tip. The salty, tangy taste of him filled her head, firing her lust hotter.

“Ah, fuck.” Luke groaned, resting his head against the back of the sofa as he speared one hand into her hair. “Take it in as far as you can, Peach. Fuck me with your mouth.”

His raw command sent sparks bursting through her blood. She lowered her head, taking him in inch by delicious inch before he reached the back of her throat. She closed her lips around his cock and sucked him like a Swirl Pop.

His groan of appreciation emboldened her to keep going, and she bobbed her head up and down, stroking her tongue over the underside of his shaft. He was so hard. So hot.

A haze fell over Polly, blocking out thought and surrendering her to instinct alone. If she’d thought that sitting almost naked on his lap was sexy, this was beyond anything she could have imagined. Crouching between his legs, sucking on his massive erection with his hand gripping her head possessively, her body so ripe for more . . . Oh God.

“Stop.” His hand twisted and tightened in her hair.

She pulled away and sat back, drawing a hand across her lips as she looked up at him. His chest was heaving, his eyes burning. He sat up, fumbling to get a condom from his wallet before he hauled her back into his lap.

In one movement, he stood, gripping her ass to hold her against him. Polly gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist, shuddering as her sex opened so close to his cock.

“Quick,” she whispered, unable to stop the plea in her voice. “I want you so badly.”

He strode across the living room to the bed in the corner. He lowered them both to the mattress, his eyes smoldering as his mouth crashed down on hers.

Polly arched upward, wanting every part of her body to touch his. She wound her arms around his shoulders and opened her mouth as her breasts rubbed against his chest and her legs twined with his. Luke muttered her name, lowering his head to press his lips across her cheek, down to her neck. He licked a drop of sweat at the hollow of her throat before moving lower to her breasts.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, driving her hands into his thick hair. “That feels so good.”

His laugh was muffled against her skin.

“
You
feel so good,” he murmured. “Soft and sweet, and you smell like a damned flower garden . . .”

He stroked his hands down her sides and captured one of her nipples between his teeth. Electric sparks shot to her core. Luke’s fingers tangled in the waistband of her panties, stripping them swiftly off her legs. He tossed them to the floor and sat up, his hot gaze raking down her naked body.

Polly squirmed, yearning for him to fill her, to ease the empty ache.

“Please,” she begged.

He tore open the foil packet and rolled a condom over his erection before edging between her legs. He stroked his finger into her cleft as if urging her to open wider. Her heart raced, a burn of both arousal and faint apprehension flushing her skin. The head of his cock pressed against her opening, and he moved over her again, bracing his hands on the mattress.

“Lift your knees,” he said, his jaw tight with self-restraint. “I’ll go slow.”

She brought her knees up, fire flaring over her nerves as he pushed slowly inside her. And even though she was already intimately acquainted with his cock, her nerves tensed as her body sought to accommodate him.

He paused, sliding his hand between them to find her swollen clit. The pressure of his fingers uncoiled streams of pleasure in her nerves, and she felt herself softening like butter. She shifted, hooking her legs around his thighs.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He pressed forward, but still slowly, as if he were afraid of hurting her. And oh, God, the easy, slick immersion was the sweetest torture. She moaned, writhing underneath him. His cock stretched her, the thick shaft throbbing against her inner walls. Then he was fully inside her, his head lowered and his breathing hard against the side of her neck.

“Oh, shit, you’re so tight,” he muttered roughly. “Christ, the things I could do to a sweet girl like you . . .”

“Then do them,” Polly breathed, bucking her hips upward in invitation. “I want you to. God, Luke, I’ve waited so long for a man like you. Show me what I’ve been missing.”

He paused, his gaze searing right through her. Then he pulled back, sliding his cock halfway out of her before easing in again. The second time, Polly matched the movement, and then he started thrusting inside her with rhythmic, slow strokes, creating a delicious friction that fired her urgency higher.

“More.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “Fuck me, Luke. I want it. I want
you.
”

A groan rumbled through his chest. He plunged into her deeper. And then they were fucking harder and faster, their bodies colliding again and again. Streams of pleasure washed over Polly, her blood rushing with hot sweetness like the taste of cinnamon meringue.

“I feel it,” she gasped, stretching her arms over her head as her breasts bounced in time with his thrusts. “I’m going to come . . .”

“Do it,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “Come on my cock, honey. Give it to me.”

Polly dragged a breath into her hot lungs and strained upward. She was so accustomed to having an orgasm from clitoral stimulation, but all she needed now was the continued, exquisite sensation of Luke’s cock pushing into her . . .

“I’m almost there.” She gripped his biceps, her arousal climbing to the breaking point. “I’m going to . . . oh, God . . . now . . .
now!
”

A cry tore from her throat when bliss exploded over her nerves. She quivered and shook, clenching her pussy around his shaft as he continued thrusting inside her. He lowered his mouth to hers, sweeping his tongue between her lips. His muscles tightened. He surged inside her and stilled with a rough groan, his own body shuddering with release.

Luke collapsed on top of her, their breathing hard and their bodies damp with sweat. Polly wrapped her arms around him. She tingled all over with lingering pleasure.

With a muffled grunt of satisfaction, he rolled off her, reaching out for her with one arm. She shifted to her side and landed right up against his body—which was lovely but also a little embarrassing since gravity invariably rolled all sleepers into the deep sag curving the middle of the mattress. Not that Luke seemed to mind, considering the way he pulled her right into the sag with him.

“It’s not your Savoir bed,” she felt compelled to remark apologetically.

“As long as you’re in it, I’ll sleep in any bed.”

With a smile, she curled up against him and rested her head on his chest. As she drifted into sleep, she had the vague thought that she was going to have to come up with something spectacular to beat this particular exercise in
fun.

She woke when dawn light threaded through the curtains. Luke was gone, but the scent of him still clung to the sheets and pillow. She absorbed the delicious warmth sliding through her veins before she rolled over to grab her T-shirt and panties off the floor.

After pulling them on, she used the bathroom and emerged to find Luke sitting at the kitchen table, his attention on his phone.

She leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb and took a minute to admire the way he looked, his hair sleep-tousled and his gorgeous body clad only in his white shirt, all the buttons unfastened to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his bronzed, sculpted chest.

He glanced up and met her gaze. Heat sizzled through the air.

“Really?” Polly asked dryly. “Other people are actually up at this hour to take your calls?”

“They don’t take
my
calls,” he replied. “I take theirs. They wait for mine.”

“So is that what I should do?” She stalked slowly toward him. “Wait breathlessly by the phone for a call from the eminent Luke Stone?”

“It would be advisable.” He slanted a glance at her as she approached.

She took his phone and set it aside before pushing her way between him and the table to straddle his lap. He was wearing his trousers, and the sensation of the expensive material felt rather delicious against her bare thighs.

After wiggling a little to get comfortable, earning herself a muffled groan from Luke, she draped her arms over his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

“If I told you to clear your schedule for Saturday night because I plan to take you out on a date, would you do it?” she asked.

He hesitated for an instant. Polly poked him in his rock-hard abdomen.

“Would you do it?” she repeated.

“I’ll have to see what’s on the calendar,” he said. “But I’ll make every effort.”

“You’d better do more than make an effort. Because I’ll be at your house Saturday night whether you want me to be or not.”

“I can make you no promises,” Luke said.

Polly tried to ignore the sense that that remark was a reminder of something more serious than a night out.

“Promise me Saturday night,” she said.

He reached around her to grab his phone from the table.

“You’re kind of a pain in the ass,” he muttered, scrolling over the screen. “I have a meeting at four to look over a downtown building for a retail site, but I can clear my schedule after six.”

“Give me that.” She took the phone from him and pulled up his calendar for Saturday night. In the six o’clock slot, she typed
“Go on a date with Polly and hope I get lucky.”

She handed him the phone back. He looked at the screen, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“I don’t hope I get lucky with you,” he said.

“You don’t?”

“Nope.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “I’m already lucky with you.”

Polly smiled. She eased back and threaded her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face. His gaze slipped down to the pendant she still wore on a silver chain around her neck. His fingers grazed her skin as he lifted the pendant into his palm and studied the flashes of blue, green, and gray embedded in the stone.

“It’s a Labradorite crystal,” Polly explained. “The Inuit people believe it fell from the fires of the Northern Lights. It’s meant to protect my aura from negative energies.”

“Your aura, huh?”

“Everyone has an aura. It’s the energy field that surrounds all living creatures and contains their essence. My friend Ramona said mine is damaged, so she gave me this stone as protection.”

“And you think it works?” Luke let the stone fall back against her chest.

“I’d be foolish to claim it didn’t,” she replied. “My mother always said not to deny something exists just because you can’t see it or it can’t be proven scientifically. There are too many mysteries in the world. Things you can’t explain by science or logic.”

“Like what?” He sat back and studied her, running his hands up and down her thighs.

“Grace,” Polly said. “Mercy. Faith in a divinity that no one has ever seen. Hope even when a situation seems hopeless. Love.”

Luke shook his head, his expression skeptical. “There’s no mystery to love.”

“How would you know? Have you ever been in love?”

“No. It’s all just pheromones and endorphins.”