Page 97 of The Best Book Boyfriend
“Um—” I press my hand to his chest and push him away from me, my face searching his. “I don’t want to sound like a brat, but we’ve already had sex. Did you forget? Because I didn’t. I thought it was pretty unforgettable, actually.”
I wish I could take a photo of the way he bites his lip when he smiles. “No, I didn’t forget.” He smooths my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ears. “But that night you were happy to pretend I was Matthew, and this time I want you to know this is all me.”
“I knew it was you. Of course I knew it was you.” I unzip his hoodie and slide my hands underneath his soft grey t-shirt. Reading books is the furthest thing from my mind, I just want to spend the rest of today touching him everywhere, so it’s torture when he removes my hands and places them at my sides.
“Luke! Why won’t you let me touch you?” I stamp my foot and he laughs but still doesn’t give me what I want.
He plants a little kiss on top of my head and then walks away, through to the kitchen. “I want to savour every bit of today.”
I rush after him, impatient, not wanting to be more than a few inches away from him after so long keeping my distance. I don’t know how he can be so calm and patient about what I have been lying awake at night dreaming about. I follow him around the kitchen island and hug him from behind as he fills two glasses of water.
“Listen, this isn’t a one time thing. We can do it now, and we can do it again later on tonight. We can do it tomorrow, we can do it every day if you like, but right now I am done with savouring.” He moves further away from me but I can tell he’s enjoying it, so I keep going, shoving my fingers into his waistband and pulling him back towards me. He lets out a high-pitched squeal that sends us both into fits of laughter while he wriggles out of my grasp. “I’m not too proud to beg, Luke. I’ve waited long enough, I need your tongue in my mouth and your hands—”
Then I get my wish. He turns abruptly and I crash into him, completely at his mercy, when his hands weave into my hair and pull my head back, his tongue coaxing mine into a desperate battle.
I forget my name when I dive into the deep end of him, lost in his taste, hands roaming everywhere I can get a hold of when he nudges me up to the edge of his dining table and suddenly pulls away.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I plead, throwing my head back in frustration. “Why are you stopping?”
“So I can see you like this.” He cups my face in his hands and plants a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth. “And so I can start kissing you again. There’s nothing hotter than the sight of you waiting to be kissed. Look at you, so needy and desperate for me.”
His words make me shake. Will I ever stop feeling drunk when his eyes meet mine? Those beautiful freckles in his iris will be the death of me. He tugs my shirt out of the waistband of my jeans and takes his time with the buttons, but his need overtakes his patience and he drags the whole thing up over my head, throwing it to the floor. Palms on the table, I lean back and let him take me in, the agony on his face letting me know I made the right choice with my dark green lace underwear.
“Take this off,” he barks, but his reaction makes me feel so naughty, I want to see how far I can push his temptation. I arch my back and shimmy my shoulders, pushing my breasts higher towards him.
“If it makes you look at me like that, I think I’ll keep it on.” I press a finger to his lips, coaxing them apart until he lets me slide between them and over his slick tongue. His hands ball into fists against my hips when I slowly trace the wetness down my neck, slipping my finger under the thin fabric and rolling it around my tight nipple.
I sit further up, the promise of a gentle kiss turning into a bite at his throat that makes him growl. He snaps up straight and pulls me off the edge of the table to the floor. Hands on my waist, he spins me around and bends me over in one swift movement. Breath rushes from my lungs when he presses me to the table, one big hand spread between my shoulder blades.
“For that, I’m going to make you wait even longer. I’ve waited months, tortured myself at night thinking about having you bent over my table like this. Now it’s your turn to ache for me.”
“Ohtrustme, I’ve been aching. I’m desperate to feel how turned on you are. Show me.”
He drives his hips up against me, fast and firm. The thick ridge of him is sublime even through my jeans. Thank God for bones, every part of me is jelly right now. He unhooks my bra, slowly sliding the straps off my shoulders, then yanks it roughly from underneath me. He reaches around my waist to undo my button and zipper, and drags my jeans to the floor, taking my underwear with them. How is this man so capable of always doing everything I want, everything Ineed,without me even telling him what to do?
Last time, the first time, the Matthew time, I was so caught up in the moment of how hot he was that afterwards I wished I’d paid more attention to how he felt. The softness of his skin, the stretch as he filled me. This time I’m 100% here, lapping up every sensation, tattooing it into my brain.
Running his hands up the back of my thighs, I’m wrecked by the tight hiss he makes when his fingers meet silky skin. “Oh, you’re so wet for me. Good girl.”
Oh Jesus. My drunken, lust-filled confession about my dining table fantasy. He remembers. Multiple Book Boyfriends have unlocked a praise kink buried within me and I could come just hearing him call me a good girl.
His fingertips work slow circles over me, dragging back and forth against my clit. When he presses a finger to my core, easing his way inside, my head spins. I reach my hands back to grip the edge of the table, but drag my nails up his thighs along the way. He grunts and steps away from me and I hear the unmistakable sound of him undoing his zip and pushing his jeans down over his hips.
“I can’t wait. I’m sorry, I promised I’d wait, but I need to be inside you, like, yesterday.”
“Don’t wai—”
I don’t even get the final syllable out before I feel him drop to his knees, his tongue sweeping through me while he fetches a condom from his pocket and rolls it on. The moan that escapes me is so loud it shocks me. Standing back up again, he leans over me, rubbing the head of his cock between my legs. His taunting is too much. I’m desperate for him, right now, here where I’ve fantasised about being taken. I press back into him, greedy for more, but he grips my hips tightly, not granting me the permission.
“Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you.”
“Fuck me,” I plead. “Please Luke, I need it so much.”
I feel him nudge my legs wider, then the swollen column of his dick buries into me, inch by agonising inch. When his quads press into the back of my thighs, my back arches and I push against my forearms to meet the force of each thrust with one of my own.
“Fuck, you’re taking it all, Kara. You feel incredible.” Hands on my hips, he pulls away and flips me round to face him, lifting me onto the edge of the table before plunging right back in. “I need to see you.”
One hand cups the back of my neck, pulling me into a savage kiss that I feel all over. It’s so hot because it’s really, genuinely us. Not discussing hypothetical sex on his sofa. Not pretending to be Matthew and Briony. Just us. Luke and Kara. Kara and Luke. When he kisses down my neck, I turn my head, opening myself up to him more. I gasp as the realisation hits me.
