Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,12
his jeans. “Just take your clothes off and get inside me.”
He pauses, breathing heavily into my neck. “Are you sure?”
I glare at him, furious he’s asking me this question now. As if he gave me the option. “Go to hell, Lucky.”
His smile, so close, so beautiful, goes sinister. “That’s what I like about you, Toni. No nonsense.”
I’m secretly thrilled, but I’m not going to tell him that. “I’m not going to tell you to take your damn clothes off twice.”
Suddenly, he’s scrambling. His jacket goes flying, along with the shirt. I take a moment to admire his chiseled chest and rounded shoulders. Then his hand is on my shirt, yanking it up over my head. It’s not pretty or graceful in the least, but we’re both naked in under a minute and then he’s sliding into me.
I let out a long moan as his full length slips in achingly slow. I’m so wet, so ready for him. I cannot believe this is happening. The boy I’ve been crushing on since I was flat-chested is sliding in and out of me, sweating on me, moaning above me. I will allow myself to enjoy this moment for now. There will be plenty of time for regret later.
I reach around to his back and hang on for dear life, scoring his skin with my blunt nails as shivers of pleasure move out from my center.
He hisses in response to the pain and rams into me. “I’m fucking you, Toni.”
I bite my lower lip and grip onto him, tensing myself up to meet him and pull him into me more deeply. “No, you’re not. I’m fucking you.”
His laugh is deep, more like a growl, and he picks up the pace. Our bodies slam into each other, sweat making us slippery. I meet him thrust for thrust, pound for pound. We’re both breathing heavier as the sensations build between us. I can tell he’s just as affected as I am, the way he’s trembling all over.
“I can’t hold off much longer,” he groans.
We should both be dulled by the amount of alcohol we’ve had, but I’m right there with him. “Don’t wait on me.” I’m panting like a dog, so close to falling over the edge. It’s been too long for me, and I’ve thought about Lucky for so many years. This is way better than I ever imagined it could be.
I start to feel something dangerously close to happiness, but I fear that emotion; it usually means pain is just around the corner. I push the thoughts away and focus on his thickness filling me, drawing me closer and closer to the edge. Lucky somehow knows exactly what I need and gives it to me without a word.
His arm goes under my waist and he lifts me up, pounding into me faster and faster. I’m yelling now, unable to stop the emotions from bombarding me, zinging out from every corner of my mind and my heart. I’ve never had sex like this before, and I’ll probably never have sex like this again because this will be a one-time event. And now it’s nearing the end, the bittersweet moment we’ve both been waiting for that I’m probably going to regret for the rest of my life.
“I’m coming!” he yells. His entire body is tensed up, hard as a rock. Sweat is rolling off him.
Hearing his words, feeling his body pulsing above me, is all I need.
“I’m coming too!”
We orgasm together and it feels like some kind of miracle has just happened in my living room. At the same moment, we both explode inside, clinging to one another lest we float off into the universe untethered, never to return. I imagine fireworks in my brain. Fireworks inside me. I’m pulsing with need and spent ecstasy. Lucky’s body does the same. And then, as all the heat and fire and intense emotion fade out, he collapses on top of me, smothering me in two hundred pounds of what-the-hell-did-we-just-do.
I can feel his heart beating against mine, the hard thump-thump-thump waking me up to reality. But I’m too tired and spent to do anything about it. I’ll hate myself tomorrow. Right now, I’m just going to enjoy the afterglow.
Lucky levers himself up and looks down at me, but he doesn’t say anything.
The glow fades fast under his scrutiny and I start to feel uncomfortable. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
His expression is one I know well. Regret. He’s still not saying anything.