Page 128 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
Olivia
How to Forget Your Name in Less Than Ten Seconds
I’m still shaking. My thighs feel boneless. My brain’s a swirl of leftover moans and the slow, deliberate way he fucked me with that spatula like it was his cock. Like it belonged to him.
God, I didn’t even know I liked that. I’ve never done anything close to that. I’ve never even thought about kitchen utensils like that—and now?
I can still feel the way it stretched me. The way it glided in. Slow and deep, pushing against nerves I didn’t even know needed to be touched. It was filthy, surreal and so good I think I forgot my name for a full minute.
And now?
I want more.
Not soft. Not gentle. Not even slow.
I want Lucian to ruin me again.
“I want your cock,” I whisper, breathless and desperate, still clinging to the edge of the island like my body hasn’t caught up to my need yet.
His eyes flash—sharp heat, jaw tight, body tense.
Then he moves.
Lucian reaches down, curls a strong hand around my thigh, and lifts me off the counter like I’m nothing. Like he needs me off it. My legs wrap around his waist automatically, my arms lock around his neck, and then we’re crashing into each other—lips, teeth, tongue. It’s brutal and hungry and wet.
The kitchen vanishes. His mouth is all I know.
He walks us toward the hallway like he can’t bear the distance to the bedroom, but I don’t want to make it there either. I want now. I want him against the wall. Inside me. Filling me up so deep I feel it for days.
I tear at his shirt while he walks, my fingers yanking it up, desperate to feel his skin under my palms. I need to bite him. I want him marked.
“Off,” I gasp, pulling the hem up over his abs. He doesn’t stop moving, just shifts me higher, holding me with one arm while yanking the shirt over his head with the other.
He’s solid heat—shoulders and chest and muscle pressed tight against me—and I dip my head, biting his collarbone, sucking on the warm skin there like I need to taste him to survive.
He growls low, deep in his chest. “Fuck, Liv.”
“You feel so good,” I whisper, grinding against him through his sweatpants, feeling his cock thick and hard and right there. “You’re going to fuck me now, right? You’re not going to tease me again. I can’t?—”
“God no,” he mutters, voice frayed, raw with want. “I’ve been hard for you all damn day. If I don’t get inside you in the next ten seconds, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
He doesn’t make it to the bedroom.
Lucian slams me against the hallway wall—gently, somehow, even in the rush. My back hits the plaster, and his mouth’s on mine again, hands already pushing his sweats down far enough to free his cock.
And when I feel him?
My breath catches.
Thick. Hot. There.
He presses it against me—right at my slick entrance—and pauses just long enough to look me in the eye.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I’m so fucking sure.”
He pushes in.
