“Tell me what you want, Sloane,” I insisted, punctuating each word with a hard thrust.
Her eyes were open now, hands reaching for me, drawing me down against her. “Just you. Give me you.”
I lost myself inside her, in the grip and pull of those smooth muscles. In the emerald green of her eyes. In the way she breathed my name as I drove us both up. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t pull back. Not with the way she was gripping me.
“You better get ready to come because I’m about to go off,” I warned through clenched teeth.
“Shut up and fuck me harder.”
I obliged, knowing that my orgasm would force hers. She hitched her thighs higher around my hips and took me even deeper. As her breasts bounced against my chest, she reached behind me and sank her fingers into my ass cheeks.
“Lucian,” she whispered.
I came.
The churning in my balls fired up the shaft and erupted in a heart-stopping burst. And then she was gripping me, rippling and writhing. We were coming. Each wave all-consuming, each crest higher than the last as our bodies fought for every last drop of ecstasy.
Jesus, she was beautiful when she came.
It was perfect. She was perfect. The way she fit me, the way she begged for what I had to offer. The way she reacted to my basest needs. Every time we let this happen, I convinced myself it would be the last time. And every time we finished, I knew it wouldn’t be.
Her arms came around my waist and held there.
“Good God, man. Do you have to register that thing as a weapon? Ugh. Where’s my root beer? I’m dying. Valentine’s Day sex killed me. You can put it on my tombstone.” Sloane’s muffled voice came from beneath me.
I smiled into her hair and decided I’d worry about what this seemingly never-ending need meant later.
29
Getting Stupid
Sloane
Honky Tonk was loud and crowded. There was a band occupying the small stage in the corner, and almost every table was taken. I spotted my friends at the corner of the bar and made my way toward them.
Naomi and Lina had their heads together, laughing over something. Knox and Nash stood guard behind them, beers hanging loosely from their hands, sharing wry smiles over something they both found amusing. Stef the Chicken had apparently returned to town and was two-stepping with Jeremiah on the dance floor in the middle of a crowd of burly bikers.
I felt like a big, dumb idiot at the wave of disappointment that smacked me right in the face.
Lucian hadn’t said he was coming. It was silly to think that he’d make the drive on a Wednesday night. It was stupid to have even wanted him to. But that was me. Silly, stupid, and now downright disappointed. I’d dressed up for no reason, wasting a perfectly good matching bra and underwear set under the short skirt and tight sweater I thought would make his blood warm.
Of course, I hadn’t actually asked him to come. We should be done. Finished. Finito. No more sex-o. Though we were still flirt fighting over text. But I sure as hell wasn’t putting myself out there on a limb. Not with him. And not when I should be focusing on finding my future husband and father of my future children.
I tried to shake off my mood as I approached the bar. This was for the best. Lucian was nothing but a distraction from what I really wanted. It was time to forget about his gigantic dick and focus on my future.
“Lookin’ hot tonight, Sloane,” Sherry “Fi” Fiasco called from behind the bar where she was helping Silver the bartender sling drinks. She saluted me with her lollipop.
I fluffed my hair and blew her a kiss. And on the inside, I wished I’d gone with sweats.
No, I reminded myself. It wasn’t a waste. I was hunting for a potential mate. Any guy in here could be the future Mr. Sloane. Like that one over there.
Mr. Michaels, Chloe and Waylay’s handsome teacher, was sharing a beer with two other teachers and mechanic Tallulah St. John. He was good looking, had a great smile, loved kids, and wore glasses. And all I could think about was Lucian’s tattooed naked body ranging over mine.
How was a girl supposed to meet a nice guy and settle for normal, non-mind-melting sex now? Was I going to be haunted by the ghost of all the orgasms he’d delivered? Would I compare every lover from now on to him, and would anyone come close to measuring up?
I was spiraling. Over Lucian’s spectacular cock. I needed therapy and a drink.
I made a mental note to check out a book or two on hypnotherapy. I’d get over him…er, his sexual prowess if it killed me.
“There she is,” Naomi said, hopping off her stool and hugging me despite the fact that we’d spent half the day working together.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said. I was busy fantasizing about my mortal enemy ripping my underwear off and making me scream his name, I didn’t say. I was absolutely going to swing by the library on my way home and grab whatever books I could find on breaking bad habits.
Knox gave my shoulder a squeeze. His wedding band caught the light, reminding me that if someone could come along and turn Knox Morgan into the marrying kind, I still had a chance at finding Mr. Right out there.
Lina flashed me a grin and a wave.
Nash leaned in over her. “What are you drinking, Sloaney?”
“I think I’ll just have a root beer,” I decided.
Disappointment called for sugar. I’d have one drink. Then I’d make my excuses, hit the library, and go home. And then I’d check the battery level on my vibrator.
Lina and Naomi boxed me in.
“Nash and I took Naomi and Knox to meet Mary Louise this afternoon.”
I perked up. “How did it go?”
“We loved her,” Lina said.
Naomi’s smile lit up the bar. “Even Viking over there couldn’t find anything to complain about.”
“Now that’s impressive,” I admitted.
“Mary Louise is ecstatic that someone is taking an interest and your interviews have gotten good play,” Lina said, her dark-red fingernails glittering against the bourbon in her glass.
“The library fielded six calls this week from people interested in the case,” Naomi added.
“Fran called today. She said there’s a podcast that wants to interview me, Mary Louise, and Allen. And she got on the judge’s calendar for an informal meeting next week,” I said.
“This is great progress,” Naomi said, nudging me with her shoulder. “So why do you look like someone just tried to ban all the books?”
Damn my face.
“It was a long day. So did Stef tell Jeremiah he’s ready to become a Knockemout resident yet?” I congratulated myself on my expert-level subject change as we all turned to study the happy couple on the dance floor.
Naomi shook her head and rolled her eyes heavenward. “He’s convinced himself that Jeremiah is going to think he’s a stalker.”
“What an idiot,” I said affectionately.
“Speaking of dating, how’s your search going these days?” Lina asked.
Damn it.
“I haven’t been on any dates in a week,” I confessed. A week…ten days…ever since Lucian’s penis invaded my vagina and my dreams…
“Hang in there. Mr. Sloane is out there,” Naomi said, squeezing my hand.
“You can’t get burnt out already. He’s not going to stroll through that door,” Lina said, pointing to the entrance.
The door swung open, and I damn near forgot to breathe when Lucifer himself stepped inside, his face serious, another insanely sexy, expensive coat flapping in the breeze. His eyes found me, and I felt…a lot of unholy things.
“Wow. That would have been pretty great if it had been a different tall, gorgeous, single guy,” Naomi teased.
“Uh-oh, Angel. Looks like the boss is here,” Nash warned Lina playfully.
“Here.” Knox shoved a root beer in my face, forcing me to look away from the avenging angel of orgasms as he made his way through the crowd. I could hear my heartbeat over the music. Electricity crackled over my skin. Every cell in my body was acutely aware that Lucian was near.
“Thanks,” I croaked.
“Lucy, what the hell are you doing here?” Knox demanded by way of greeting.
“I had business nearby. Thought I might find you here.”