Page 30 of Getting Lucky in London

Thought took a backseat to instinct as I drew the denim down narrow hips and long, muscular legs. His cock sprang forward, and I reached for the velvety shaft.

His fingers manacled my wrist. “Not this time.”

Before I could blink, Michael lifted and tossed me on the bed. “Jeans off.”

With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned my jeans, but he yanked them off before I got them unzipped. Crawling backward up the bed, I had time to catch a single breath, and then he was over me, nudging my knees apart, the head of his cock nudging my entrance. His mouth slanted over mine as, inch by inch, he drove forward, stretching my inner walls in slow abandon, filling me…completing me.

I lifted my legs so that my knees rode against his ribs. He slid deeper.

He tore his mouth from mine in a strangled growl. “Bloody hell, you feel so fucking good.”

“Mmm.”

“I forgot a condom.” It sounded more like a question.

“I got the shot.” My core clenched around his hard-as-steel cock.

His face contorted. “I’ve never gone without a rubber, but if—”

“Same.” With a tilt of my hips, I encouraged him to move. I needed the closeness to him just this once…one final time.

Resting on his elbows, he started a leisurely rhythm. His lips parted mine in a hungry kiss, his tongue taking up the same deliberate pace, and I drowned in the turmoil of overwhelming emotion—joy, despair, love.

Then the delicious friction sparked, and I lost myself to the building fury. Hotter and hotter, like a storm of fire in a chasm just out of reach, the all-consuming pleasure lured me to its edge.

His hand found my breast, squeezing once before his fingers pinched and rolled the taut bud. I dove headfirst into the unforgiving flames of pure bliss. Every nerve ending sizzled and lava poured through my veins.

Somewhere beyond the vortex of fire, Michael’s guttural roar echoed in my ears. Pulsing hot jets of cum filled me, creating sweet jolts of aftershocks. If I turned to ash, it wouldn’t matter, as long as he was with me.

Too soon, awareness snuck around the corners of my subconscious, dousing the glowing embers. The sound of our heavy breathing, the smell of sex, the wetness between my thighs. And the calming weight of his muscles settling on top of me. I drank it all in until reality invaded and I remembered I’d never feel this way again.

I felt the familiar sting behind my eyes as he eased to one side and took me with him, so that we lay together in a tangle of limbs, skin to skin, spent, a fine sheen of moisture coating our bodies. Silent tears slipped from my tightly clenched eyes as I waited for his breathing to slow and his body to grow lax.

When I was sure Michael slept soundly, I eased from beneath his possessive grasp. Hovering over him, I brushed a lock of tawny hair from his forehead and bent to kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

His lips curled upward in a wicked smile. For a moment, I thought he’d wake, but his mouth relaxed and his breathing evened.

I slipped out of bed, leaving the jeans and blouse where they lay on the floor, and tiptoed downstairs to find the dress I’d worn to the gallery Thursday night. God, it seemed so long ago, and yet it had gone by so fast…too fast.

Heart pounding, I found the dress on the washing machine and tugged it over my head. As it fell into place, I hesitated only a second before grabbing Michael’s white dress shirt from the top of the pile. I held it to my nose and breathed him in. My heart panged, screaming at me to go back upstairs, to crawl into bed, and steal as much time as I could with him.

Instead, I let my feet carry me to the kitchen where I shoved the shirt into the Union Jack bag and crept to the front door. I slipped into my flats, and with a hasty glance at the stairs, I asked myself for the thousandth time if leaving this way was the right thing to do. Once again, the answer was no, but what else could I do?

Tell him the truth.

Michael would never understand my reasons for keeping secrets, for lying. This was the best way for both of us. He could move on, no doubt with a sigh of relief. And I wouldn’t have to feel the crushing blow of rejection, of being unloved, of…

Turning away, I opened the door and stepped into the purplish light of dawn.

Chapter Seven

Danielle

I waited until I was at the corner before I called a rideshare. Dozens of notifications of calls and texts from my brother rolled up the screen, but I couldn’t deal with them right now.

Ten minutes later, I was on my way to Dominic’s, separating myself from Michael one row of blurring townhouses at a time. The tears I’d been holding back broke loose and fell unheeded down my cheeks.

God, why does it hurt so much?

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