"Fucking you is amazing," he says. "You fit me like you're fucking made for me."
His words send a rush of arousal between my legs. "Your cock..."
"Say it. Tell me how much you like my cock."
"I love your cock," I say, my words more of a moan than actual words. I want all of him inside me. I want him deeply, and entirely, and completely, and I don't want to let him go.
"I love hearing that come out of your mouth," he says.
"I love your cock." I repeat it, the words liberating. I've never talked like this during sex, never said much of anything in fact. Until now, I've been quiet. And now, I somehow find my voice.
He speaks to me, whispers how much he loves my *, bringing me to the edge and then denying me, telling me I can't crash over, that I won't come until he lets me come. And I don’t. I hold off, waiting for him, losing myself in the rhythm with him until it becomes so unbearable that I'm whining, begging him to let me come, telling him how much I need.
I need so much, I tell him. I need him.
Then he tells me to come -- no, orders me to come. And when I do, it’s blinding light, an orgasm that seems to wash over my entire body, overtakes my entire self, and sweeps me away. I hear him calling my name, whispering my name over and over as he comes inside me, and I'm clinging to him, my nails digging into his back, clawing at him wildly as I ride wave after wave of pleasure so intense I think I'm on the verge of tears.
Afterward, I lie with my forehead forward against his chest, trying to catch my breath as I come down. We lie there like that, with him inside me, neither of us speaking. The room is still, completely quiet except for our breathing.
"That was..." I start, and then stop. I don't have words for it.
"Pretty fucking awesome," he says.
"Yeah."
We lay there silently for a few minutes before Olivia's high-pitched squeal reverberates through the stillness in the house. "Shit," I say.
He jumps up, and off the bed, and I'm scrambling to throw on a robe, my heart racing. "We didn't wake her up, did we?" he asks.
"No, we were quiet," I say. "She just wakes up sometimes."
"You sure?" he asks, a pained expression on his face.
"Positive." I'm dressed and out the door before I can decide whether the pained look is because he's suddenly remembered that I have a child.
It's a few minutes before I calm Olivia down and get her into her crib, sleeping peacefully as if she never woke at all. Luke is downstairs, his clothes and shoes on, and the realization hits me. He’s slinking out of here.
I stand there, looking at him warily.
"I'm totally not leaving," he says awkwardly, holding up his hand. "I’m just getting Lucy back in here. I let her out a few minutes ago, and she’s out chasing something, I’m sure.”
I laugh, wondering why the hell I feel relieved. "You mean you weren't sneaking out of here?"
Luke laughs. "Shit. No. Is that what you think?"
I look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Isn't that what you do?"
He stands straighter, practically bristling as he looks at me. "You don't know that."
"Says the guy who has girls blowing up his phone with angry texts?"
“Touché,” he says. “Anyway, I’m not leaving. So stop assuming the worst.”
“Who said you leaving was the worst case scenario?” I ask, my voice light.
A slow smile spreads across Luke’s face. “Don’t pretend like you don’t fucking want me, woman.” He reaches for me, but I dodge his grasp as he laughs, breezing past me toward the front door. “I’m going to go chase down my dog, but when I get back, you’re going to pay for your smart ass.”
When he returns, I’m in the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and he walks up behind me, sliding cold hands around my waist that make me squeal. “You’re freezing,” I whisper. “Maybe I don’t want you in my bed.”
“I’ll keep you warm, Red,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. I can see his reflection in the mirror above the sink, and it makes me laugh. “Unless you’re giving me the boot. Hit it and quit it?”
I turn around to face him, my ass pressed up against the bathroom counter, and he flicks open my robe with his finger. He looks down at me, and heat rushes between my legs, despite the fact that I just had him. “Isn’t that what we said?” I ask. “We’re friends.”
"That's what you said." Luke trails his finger up the inside of my thigh, one light stroke. "I never said such a thing."
“You said you didn’t have women friends,” I say, my voice breaking as he moves his fingers up higher, between my legs.
“This is a case in point,” he says, pressing his fingertip firmly against my clit.
“We’re totally friends.”
"Uh-huh," he says. Never breaking eye contact, he slides two fingers inside me, and my breath catches in my throat. "I don't know about you, but I don't do what the hell I just did with you, with any of my friends."
“Mhmm.” I have no response, not when he’s touching me like that.
"Get in the shower," he says, sliding his hand from between my legs. "Friend."