"Toddler music class," I answer. "She goes to class with Greta, and then they go to the park."
"Toddler music class," Luke repeats, his hand unmoving. His lips brush the side of my neck, and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning. It's been so long since I've been with anyone that Luke's touch feels so good, it's almost painful. "That's a real thing?"
"It's a real thing." I’m barely able to focus. "I mean, they basically run around and listen to kids' songs and…" My voice trails off. I know I'm babbling, the most nervous I've been in years, more so than any business meeting has ever made me. Why does Luke make me so nervous?
"Open the door," Luke whispers, his voice low. "Now."
"I'm not sure we should – "
He moves his hand from mine, places his hands on my waist, and presses his hardness against my ass. Suddenly, I can't think of anything except what he would feel like inside me. "Open the door, because we both know you want me."
I choke out a laugh. "Shit, you're full of yourself."
But I open the door. And the second we step inside, Luke shuts it, slamming me hard against it before reaching up to turn the lock. He slides his hand under my shirt, the movement furious, cupping my breast, his finger finding its way under the fabric of my bra. My nipple hardens immediately to his touch, and he smiles as he watches me writhe under him. It's exquisite pleasure when he touches me, and he knows it.
"Full of myself?" he asks, his lips so close to mine they're nearly touching. I want to feel his lips again. I ache for him to kiss me.
"Full of yourself," I agree, my words catching in my throat. "Yes. Exactly. Definitely full of yourself."
"You'd love to be… full of me," he says, grinning as he thumbs my nipple, and I think I might come from the sensation alone.
"You're juvenile," I say, and he slides his hand from my shirt. For a second, I think he's taken it away, a reaction to me insulting him, but he reaches lower to my waistband, flicking open the button of my pants with a single, obviously well-practiced motion. He yanks my jeans over my hips and slips his hand down the front of my panties before I can even register what he's doing.
When I do realize, I put my hand against his chest, halfheartedly intending to push him away, to tell him I can't possibly do something like this – and up against the front door of my house, no less – but then he's sliding his fingers over my clit, and the sensation that ricochets through my body nearly makes my knees buckle. I have to cling to the fabric of his shirt to even stay upright.
"Juvenile." His mouth is close to mine. "Tell me you still think I'm fucking juvenile now, Red."
He rolls his fingers over my clit, stroking me until my brain is entirely enveloped in a fog of need and desire, until I can't possibly think clearly.
"I – " I start, but I stop myself. I can't remember why I was objecting before.
"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 agree, 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 repeats. "And I'm not arrogant. I just know what I want."