Lucas Thatcher is hard in my hand. So very large. I smirk up at him; no wonder he’s an overconfident ass. He doesn’t see me looking up at him though. His head has fallen back against the wall. His eyes are closed. His brows are pinched and his lips have fallen open on an exhale. He is a Baroque sculpture: The Ecstasy of Lucas Thatcher.
I glide my closed palm over him, up and down until he grows another inch in my hand. It’s the sort of thing I always wanted—Lucas under my control—I just never thought it would happen like this.
I wrap my lips around the tip of him and then I take him deeper into my mouth. The first taste is almost enough to break us both.
“God, Daisy.”
He isn’t sure who to worship, but I’ll have him convinced soon enough. I wrap my palm around the base of his shaft and slide my mouth on and off him. I move slowly, dragging out every movement just like he did with me. It’s sensual, having him in my mouth like that. I taste him on my tongue and I close my eyes, trying to seduce him as best as possible.
His fingers string through my hair, tightening when I hit just the right spot.
You like that, don’t you.
I toy with him; I can’t help it.
Then his hand reaches down and cups the back of my head. He’s finished with games.
I smirk and take him deeper, pumping him with my hand.
He doesn’t ease up and my breaths are starting to get labored. I grip the back of his thighs and let him fuck my mouth. It’s an intimate act, trusting him not to hurt me.
“This is what I’ve wanted,” he says, caressing my cheek.
I close my eyes so he can’t read the emotion in them.
And then he’s coming. No lead-in. No warning.
I barely register anything but the sound coming from his mouth. The deep, satisfied groan. The way his hips buck forward, slipping out of his control. He is completely lost in me and I make sure it stays that way. For so long, we hover there, regaining our breath. I stay on my knees, staring up at him, and he finally looks down at me. It’s the first time we’ve locked eyes since I kissed him and the intimacy of the eye contact is more shocking than anything we’ve done yet. The delayed vulnerability finds its target, and self-preservation takes over.
I look away and stand.
I lock myself in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I am red and raw. My breath is still labored, recovering. My lips are a little swollen, carrying the evidence of what I’ve done, and my eyes are dilated. I’m still in shock.
I lean forward and splash water across my face. It feels good so I do it a few more times. I’m drying my hands when Lucas knocks on the door and informs me that they’re ready to confirm our negative skin tests, and then we’ll be free to go. How’s that for timing?
I imagine a parade waiting for us outside, a bevy of local and national reporters fighting over each other to get the scoop. America will be so glad to see us free and safe that they’ll declare today a national holiday. Yet when we stroll out of the clinic—not making eye contact, keeping our distance—the sidewalk is empty, and the only parade is the procession of new emotional baggage we each drag behind us. So much for my fifteen minutes of fame.
To her credit, my mom is across the street at Hamilton Brew. When she sees me, she waves a plastic bag overhead.
“Daisy! I brought you clean underwear!”
The universe can be so cruel at times.
Chapter Eighteen
Lucas
From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: #351
Sometimes lying to yourself can be helpful. Therapeutic, even. But there are some moments in life when the truth is so white-hot that you don’t even have the choice to ignore it. It demands to be heard.
So ask yourself, Daisy: do you regret what happened?
I don’t.
For a few hours, you finally stopped fighting an imaginary war inside that beautiful mind of yours. You let go of all the things that shouldn’t be and guess what? It was sexy as hell. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already convinced yourself it was some kind of defeat. But don’t worry, Daisy. Even though you were on your knees in that exam room, I was the one trembling. I had your blonde hair wrapped up in my hands. Your delicate features were so serene, so focused on what you were doing. Your heart-shaped mouth. Your lips…
Jesus, Daisy.
It’s no wonder you freaked out afterward. Those big blue eyes caught mine and you froze. I don’t think we’ve ever been closer than in that moment.
So I’m not going to stop now.
Not when I know how good it can be. How true.
You’ll see.
Chapter Nineteen