Page 12 of Due South

Begging seems passive, though, and I want for once in my life to take what I want, to be an active participant. So I reach for him, resting a hand on his waist before sliding it down and palming him through his trousers. I’m about to ask if it’s okay that I touch him like this, but he beats me to the punch, groaning, “Hell yes, Lucy.”

Stroking him seems like a good idea. What else am I supposed to do with the thick, hot hardness in my hand? He bites my bottom lip, and our breath mingles between our mouths as we rest our foreheads against each other.

“I need to be inside you,” he says, his fingertips trailing down the side of my ribcage, making me shiver.Need.He needs me. He grips my waist with both hands, pads of his fingers sinking into my flesh. “Shit. Not need. I want to be inside you, so badly I can taste it, but—”

He’s sweet, so sweet. Of all the things he’s said to me, this is what brings blood to my cheeks. Maybe because, while bold and sexy Lucy and Evans have been the ones at play, shy and awkward Lucy and Evans have never left the building. I wouldn’t want them to, not entirely.

“Don’t apologize. I know you’d stop. If I wanted you to. If I changed my mind. I don’t want you to stop.”

“I have to. Just for a minute.”

Leaning back, he holds me at arm’s length, like if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to help himself.

“I’ll be right back. I swear. But in the meantime…”

He reaches over and rucks my shirt up, leaving it bunched above my exposed breasts. Then he’s working my skirt over the tops of my thighs until it’s gathered around my waist and he can see my underwear. My pink, lacy, drenched underwear.

“Kneel, knees apart,” he instructs as he presses them wide open. It makes me want him more. It makes me need him inside me as badly as he seems to need to be inside me. “And hands behind your back.”

I whimper as I drop to the floor and thread my fingers together behind me. His gaze zeroes in on my chest as the motion forces my breasts up and out. He’s put me on display, and I like it. I like being seen, I like his eyes raking over me and the wanting I can practically feel dripping over my exposed skin.

“Now stay. Just like that.”

Nothing has ever made me feel so wanton, so slutty. But slutty doesn’t seem like a bad word right now. I watch Evans walk out, his erection filthily obvious in his pants as he tries not to hurry. But when he turns the corner, I hear him break into a jog and I purse my lips in a satisfied smile. It’s not long before he comes back toting a box he rips open as he steps over the threshold.

“You keep condoms at work?”

He reddens and shakes the half-torn box. “Yeah, but if you didn’t notice, the box was closed. I just, you know, like to be prepared.”

The best kind of Boy Scout.

“And you…you are the best thing I’ve ever seen. Look at you. I’d like to see you naked—”

“No. Do me now.”

This brand-new Lucy is demanding, and I’m having fun letting myself say all these things I never thought I could. Because brazen Lucy can, this is what she’s supposed to do.

Evans reaches out a hand, threads fingers through my hair in a gesture so tender it makes me want to close my eyes. But it finishes with the tightening of his fist at the nape of my neck and I gasp. Oh, yes. That does feel surprisingly good.

He gets a funny look on his face, as if he’s not entirely sure what to do next, but then seems to screw up his courage. “Yeah? But you like it when I’m being bossy, right? You want me to do that some more?”

“I totally do. It’s hot.”

“Okay. I can do that.” But apparently he has to think about it and come up with something. It’s awkward but endearing that he has to deliberately plan what to say next. “You’re awfully mouthy for a girl on her knees. Want to try again?”

I could laugh, because it’s unlike him and it sounds as though he’s trying so hard. But it’s fun, and I want to play with him, not embarrass him, make him stop. Instead, I beg. “Please, Evans, don’t make me wait anymore. I want you inside me. I need you inside me. Please.”

God, I sound desperate and I’m not even sorry. The playacting, the exposure—it makes me even hotter for him.

“Release your hands,” he orders and I immediately comply. Before I can reach for him, he’s easing me onto my back on the floor and tugging my underwear down my legs. They get caught on one foot, but instead of working them off, he mutters, “fuck it,” and kneels up between my thighs. The floor is hard and chilled under my back, but I stop caring the second he reaches for his zipper.

He reaches inside and pulls out his cock. It’s as thick as I’d imagined it. It might even be big enough to be scary, but somehow I’m not worried. He’s not going to hurt me. He would never hurt me. Not the Evans who scoops up spiders on printer paper and carries them out to the parking garage to set them in the bushes.

He strokes himself a few times before ripping open a packet and rolling the latex down his length. I’m practically drooling. He leans over, his hands on either side of my head, and kisses me. It’s not so hungry anymore. Instead, it’s almost soft. Reassuring. My body responds, relaxing, and he cups my face in one hand.

“You really want this, Lucy?”

“I really do.”

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