Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)

He hesitated. But I felt the need in him. He needed to let me do this.

“Someone is going to come looking for us if we’re gone too long,” he said, sliding a single finger into my pulsating pussy.

“If you don’t let me put my mouth on your cock right now, I don’t know if I can go back out there. I just need to take the edge off.”

“You’re so close to coming,” he said as my muscles rippled around his fingers.

“Please, Lucian,” I whimpered. I’d come later. He’d make sure of that. But right now, I needed to feel him at the back of my throat. I needed to take him to the kind of place he took me.

He swore darkly and gave my breast another hard squeeze. Then he was releasing me.

I couldn’t believe it. The man was giving me the one thing I wanted, even though it was the one thing he didn’t want. As I worked his fly open, he brought two glistening fingers to his mouth and licked them.

My knees buckled, which was fine because the floor was where I had to be anyway.

I knelt on the cool concrete, feeling the heat from Lucian’s attention as I freed his cock. From this angle, it was intimidatingly huge. The blunt tip was already wet with moisture that leaked from the slit.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I looked up at him as I opened my lips and took him into my mouth. A shudder rolled through his body, and he pumped his hips convulsively against me.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed as I took him to the back of my throat and held him there.

Glancing up, I found his head tipped back, hands fisted against the wall.

I hummed and he looked down at me. Those gray eyes had fire in them. He reached out and stroked a finger over my cheek.

I took that as permission to continue. So I fisted my hand around the root of his shaft and began to move. Pulling, sucking him to the back of my throat, then dragging lips and tongue and fingers over him to the tip.

He was spewing profanity now as if I’d snapped nearly every tether of his control.

I loved this. The intimacy. The power. I was the one on my knees, but I was in control. He’d given me that.

“Stop.”

I immediately froze at Lucian’s rough command. He gripped my hair, wrapping it around his fist, and pulled me back until his erection slid free. We stared at each other, both breathing heavily in the relative silence of the hallway.

His eyes were half-mast, lips parted. He looked like he wanted more, and I wanted to give it to him.

Once again, he skimmed his knuckles over my cheek.

The moment was broken by high-pitched giggles and the swing of the restroom door.

Lucian scooped me up under the arms and set me on my feet. “We have to go back before they send out a search party,” he said, tucking his monstrous cock back into his pants.

I was having trouble pulling myself together. The fog of lust had crowded out all my senses except for the ones Lucian currently occupied. I sagged against the wall.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he ordered as he adjusted his raging hard-on.

“How am I looking at you?” I asked.

“Like you need me to fuck you.”

“To be fair, that’s exactly what I need.”

He gritted his teeth and half turned away from me. Was I driving him as wild as he drove me?

As I shoved my boobs back into my sweater, I took inventory of him. His tie was crooked. His usually perfectly coiffed hair was standing up on one side. And his pants looked as if they were in danger of being destroyed by his very insistent erection.

“How can you still walk and talk with that thing?” I asked, gesturing at his penis region.

“Do not address my cock right now,” Lucian growled. He was doing some kind of deep breathing exercise and looking everywhere but at me.

“It just seems like it gets harder every time. Is that normal? I mean, my boobs feel like they weigh a ton right now. I think my bra is cutting off my circulation.”

Lucian closed his eyes. “Pixie, I can’t get unhard when you’re talking about your tits.”

I grinned wickedly. The benefit of being a woman was that you could be turned on without pitching a tent in your pants. “They just feel so swollen. And my nipples are so sensitive.”

He cursed and bent at the waist.

Struggling to Regain Control Lucian was downright endearing.

“Thirty minutes.”

“What?” I asked.

“We’re leaving in thirty minutes. You make up an excuse and I’ll follow. Meet me in the parking lot.”

A thrill zoomed through me. He wanted to fuck me. He needed to fuck me. I would have done a victory dance if I hadn’t been so acutely aware of the wetness between my thighs.

“Deal,” I agreed. “I’ll go back first, and you take a minute to try to stop thinking about taking my bra off and burying your face in my boobs.”

His growl echoed after me as I danced past him, laughing.



We lasted twenty-two minutes. Twenty-two minutes of pure torture.

He stood behind me as I tried to focus on conversation with Naomi and Lina. But every time he touched me, his thigh crowding mine when he leaned in to order a drink, his finger tracing the bare skin between my skirt and sweater, I lost all train of thought.

Naomi finally gave me the perfect out and asked me if I was tired.

“I’m exhausted,” I fibbed. “It’s been a long couple of weeks, and I’m fantasizing about bed.”

Neither of those things was a lie.

“You’ve been through a lot,” she said with sympathy. “Go home. Get some sleep.”

“You sure you guys don’t mind?” I asked, stifling a fake yawn.

“I guess we’ll just have to settle for the testosterone trio,” Lina said. “Text me tomorrow.”

“I will,” I promised. “Good night, guys.”

Knox and Nash said their goodbyes. Lucian pretended to ignore me.

I sauntered out of the bar, adding an extra swing to my hips, and I felt him watching me the whole way to the door.

I was just unlocking my Jeep when I sensed a disturbance in the force. “Cheese and crackers! How did you get here so fast?”

“Long legs,” he said, gripping me by the arm and steering me toward his Jaguar. “Get in,” he said.

“What about my Jeep?”

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight after that little stunt in the hallway, you’re sorely mistaken. Get. In.”

I got in.





30


I Have to See a Man about a Pile of Frozen Rats Sloane




No touching,” he ordered as he put the car in gear.

“Geez. Bossy much?” I pouted.

“If you so much as graze my dick with your pinkie finger, I’m pulling over on a public road, dragging you across this console, and fucking you into oblivion.”

“That’s not a convincing argument for why I shouldn’t touch you.”

“If you’re a good girl and wait the four fucking minutes it takes to get home, I’ll strip you naked and worship every inch of your beautiful body with my cock, mouth, and hands.”

My hands fisted in my lap. Good enough for me. “Drive faster,” I told him.

My breasts felt heavy and swollen. My clitoris was throbbing. And I was so wet, I was thinking about renaming my lady parts Costa Rican Rainy Season. He’d let me taste him. He’d let me take him in my mouth. My heart pounded at the near victory.

The tires squealed when he zipped past my driveway and pulled into his. Neither of us said a word as the garage door rose in front of us. I didn’t ask why he’d brought me here instead of my place. I didn’t care. As long as he was about to touch me.

He pulled forward into the garage, and we were both out of the car in the span of a heartbeat. We met in front of the hood, and he took me by the hand and dragged me to the door. He slapped the garage door opener and manhandled me inside.

I was definitely not complaining that the touching moratorium was over.

Inside the ruthlessly organized laundry room, I shoved his jacket off his shoulders. It landed on the tile, followed by the coat he all but ripped off me.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he said between kisses as we exited the laundry room and entered the kitchen area.