"What, Red?" he whispers. His eyes are trained on mine as he slips his fingers lower. "You're so fucking wet, so fucking hot for me right now. I'll bet your * is throbbing for me. Just admit it. Say it for me."
When he presses his fingers against me, I inhale sharply. "I am," I say, my voice barely audible. "I'm so…wet."
Luke groans loudly, bringing his mouth down on mine as he plunges two fingers inside me in one swift movement. His other hand comes around the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, gripping the roots, pulling me into him. He kisses me like he owns me, dominant and possessive, in a way no one's ever kissed me before.
And what he does with his fingers inside me, the way he strokes me, isn't like anyone's ever touched me before. He plays me with his fingers like he already knows me, and every part of my body feels alive, positively buzzing with electricity.
When he pulls his lips away from mine, his eyes are filled with lust. "I've wanted this since I first saw you," he says, his fingers still working their magic inside me.
I reach for the button on his pants, but he just laughs.
"Not so fast," he growls. "First, I'm going to make you come right here on my fingers, right in the doorway of your house. Then, I'm going to rip those jeans right off you, and lick you until you come again on my tongue. Then, and only then do you have permission to reach for my cock."
"I have permission?" I ask, the question punctuated by short breaths, gasps I can't help as Luke presses his fingertips inside me, against the place that sends me hurtling closer to the edge. "You're so…fucking…arrogant…"
Luke just grins. "You heard what I said. Permission," he says. "And I'm not arrogant. I'm just honest."
He continues to stroke me, bringing me higher and higher, and I cling to him, desperately wanting to reach out and undo the button of his jeans, to wrap my hand around his cock. I can see it, his hardness clearly outlined, pressing against the fabric of his jeans, and the sight nearly pushes me over the edge.
"You're…so…fuck…" I want to tell him how cocky he is, how ridiculous, tell him that no one has ever to me like this, told me exactly what he plans to do to me. But I can't put anything into words when this ridiculously arrogant man has his fingers buried so deeply inside me.
I can't think clearly when this man makes me drunk with lust, shuts off the rational part of my brain, the part of me that makes smart decisions.
Decisions that are exactly the opposite of this one.
Then Luke whispers into my ear. "You fucking love it, Red," he says. "It was written all over you, from the first day I saw you. You wanted me from the second you laid eyes on me, too. You just like denying it. But I know you've been wet between your legs for me."
"That's…oh God…not…true."
Luke pauses, unmoving, and I moan, the sound needy, unable to help myself. "Are you saying you want me to stop, Red?"
Do I want him to stop?
I should want him to stop. He's immature, young, reckless. I don't do spontaneous. I don't have one-night-stands. And I certainly don't let a guy a decade younger than me rip my jeans down my thighs and finger me in broad daylight in the doorway of my house.
But I look into the eyes of the man who's doing exactly that, and I don't want him to stop. "No," I say, the word barely more than a whisper.
But he doesn't move, doesn't give me the release I crave. "Sorry, Red," he says. "I'm not sure I heard you."
I swear my knees are about to buckle under the weight of my neediness. "No," I say. "I do…not…want you to stop."
Luke chuckles, pressing hard against that spot inside me, the one that makes me moan. "That's better," he says. "Now, sweetheart, I want you to come for me, because I've been dying to put my tongue between your legs since the first time I saw you, and I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
He covers my mouth with his before I can even react, stroking me harder, and the combination of everything overwhelms my senses. I come with blinding intensity, clinging to him as my touchstone when I crash over the edge, my moan muted by his mouth.
When he pulls back, he gives me a look that’s so self-satisfied, so damn pleased with himself that I’d almost want to slap the smirk off his face if he just weren’t so sexy. Then he squats down and yanks my jeans down my legs in one swift pull and looks up at me, his eyebrows raised. “Pants off,” he says. “Now.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Luke
She doesn't argue, doesn't open that smart fucking mouth of hers, that damned self-assured smartass mouth that inexplicably makes me so hard, ready to bend her over and fuck her at a moment's notice.
And that is exactly what I want to do now. I want this girl on her knees, her sweet lips wrapped around my cock. I want to bend her over, put her palms against the door, and thrust my cock inside her. I want to yank her hair, feel her tighten around me, hear her call my name when she comes, the way I know she wants to.
I want this girl in every way possible.
I want to claim her.