Page 17 of Loving Luna

I said nothing when he pushed the fabric of my dress up over my hips, and even lifted them off the bed to make it easier for him.

I practically drooled at the sight of his tight six-pack abs and drool-worthy pecs. I loved his dark tan skin, and the contrast to my own very pale, nearly alabaster complexion.

His thick, long, but not too long beard only accentuated his hotness.

The same hotness I was trying hard to ignore.

I still couldn’t tear my gaze away from is thick, long cock. Remembering the feel of it in my mouth, the taste of him as he forced me to swallow, I licked my lips.

He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Like what you see, darling?”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. He already knew I did.

“Just get over here before I change my mind.”

He gave me a hard, unamused stare, but he still didn’t press his luck, instead he stepped between my knees and the tip’s soft skin grazed the insides of my legs. Even more so when he climbed on the bed, kneeling over me and it bumped against my wet pussy.

Dammit. It was enough to make me wish I did believe in love.

No, stop it. That’s just the hormones and adrenaline talking. Not only is love a farce, it’s a farce you do not have time for. You cannot allow anything to derail you from your goals.

I tried to keep the voice inside my head sane and grounded, but it insisted on quietly reminding me that here at the Ranch, I was surrounded by examples of love that had worked out, and that more and more people were pairing up every day.

For now. It’s worked out for now.

Drake stroked my cheek with the backs of his knuckles, dragging me from the argument I was having with myself.

“What’s up, babygirl? It looks like you’re a million miles away.”

I shrugged away from his touch. “Don’t call me that.”

I saw the hurt flash across his face, but he quickly recovered.

I didn’t recover so easily. The damage was already done, threefold.

Because I didn’t hate it when he called me that.

To quote one of his favorite movies, not even a little bit, not even at all.

Tears started to burn the corners of my eyelids.

I grabbed for Drake to distract myself from the frustrated emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

He let me, happily and teased my pussy lips with his cock while I wrapped my arms around his neck.

The temptation to pull him closer until our lips touched was too big, but I knew there’d be no coming back from that. In all the fuck-buddying we’d done, we’d never crossed that line.

Kisses were too intimate, too real.

We’d already had one first today. No need for any more.

I settled for scratching my nails down his back, a move I knew he only tolerated.

He stiffened for a moment, then just shook his head.

He looked at me, with an expression I couldn’t read, and I sucked in a breath, praying he wasn’t going to say something romantic, or worse, confess his love again.

“Please, give me your cock,” I breathed, both to dissuade him from whatever had been going through his mind, and because I really, really wanted it.

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