Page 62 of Pucking Sweet

He grins, dropping me to the floor. “Where’s your room?”

“507.”

He ducks down and picks up my discarded clutch. I weave my fingers in with his and lead him down the hall. We stop in front of the door, and I drop his hand to rifle in my clutch for the room key. He presses in at my back, hands on my hips, kissing my neck. “Was that asshole hard while he was dancing with you?” he asks in my ear.

“I hardly noticed,” I reply, distractedly flicking through my thin stack of cards again.

He flips my hair off my other shoulder and kisses his way up to the spot behind my ear, his tongue teasing. When he starts to suck, I sink against him with a little moan. All the while, his hands stroke up and down my sides, his fingers brushing the underside of my breasts then dancing away.

“You’re gonna make me drop this clutch, and then we’ll have to start this all over.”

He hums a laugh, pressing in with his hips as he finally cups my breasts.

“Oh, god.” I tip my head back as he massages me. I feel the rumble of pleasure in his chest as my nipples peak under his palms.

“Did you let him touch you here?”

“No,” I whisper.

He drops a hand down, cupping my pussy again. “Did he touch you here?”

“No—ah—” I stumble forward, catching myself with one hand on the door, palm pressed flat. He slips his hand up under my dress, and now he’s grazing a finger over my pussy lips. There’s another hum of approval when he feels how damp my panties are.

“Were you wet for him too, Poppy? Or is this all for me?”

I flash him a smile over my shoulder, pressing back against him with my hips. “Wouldn’t you like to know—” I gasp as he digs his fingers into my hair. He speaks right in my ear, his voice hoarse as he holds me possessively by my pussy.

“One thing to know about me is I don’t fucking share, Poppy. Did I not just tell you I’m a jealous person? I don’t care if there’s been other men. Fuck a thousand other men. But when I ask you if there are others, you will tell me no. Understand?”

I nod, wholly turned on by this possessive side of him. It feels good to feel this wanted, this desired. And Lukas would never hurt me. I know if I said “stop” right now, he would back away and bid me a goodnight. I move my hips against him, ready to soothe his worry. “Put your fingers in me,” I whisper, still braced against the door. “Do it, Lukas. Feel how wet I am for you. Only you.”

He shifts my panties aside, letting his finger glide between my wet pussy lips. I whimper, moving my hips with the motion of his hand. “So wet,” he praises me. Then he sinks his finger in deep, dropping his other hand to brace at my hip. Head tipped back, I ride his hand. “Such a good fucking girl. You’re so ready for my dick, aren’t you?”

“Please,” I say again. “Please, I want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you fucking do. But first, I’m gonna lay you out on that bed and bury my face in this needy little cunt. You don’t come on my dick until you’ve come in my mouth. Understood?”

Okay, I need this door open.Now.

I push off the door, digging in my clutch again, looking in earnest for the key. All the while, Lukas teases me, his hip grinding as he pumps his finger inside me. I bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning again.

“Open the door,” he says in my ear.

“I’m trying to find the dang key,” I say on a frustrated huff.

“That purse is the size of a deck of cards. How hard can it be?”

My shoulders stiffen. He’s right. “It’s not in here.”

Behind me, he goes still, slipping his finger out of me. “What?”

My panic sets in as I check for a fourth time. “It’s not in here, Lukas. The key is—oh god, did I lose it? Did I forget to even put it in before I left?” He steps back and I drag a frustrated hand through my hair, checking everywhere on the floor. “I’m gonna have to go down to the front desk and get a new one. They’ll see we’re still together. Oh god, this is so embarrassing. Why do I always do stuff like this?”

Snatching my hand, he leads me down the hall. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” I pull on his hand. “Wait, the elevator is the other way—Lukas.”

He shoulders open the door marked “Ice Room” and pulls me inside. The auto lights blink on, the fluorescent bulbs flickering as the industrial-sized ice machine crackles and hums.

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