Page 33 of Keeping You
And I intend to make every second count.
“This isn’t fake anymore, is it?” My question is loaded with everything we've been ignoring.
He shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I don't think it ever was.” The confession settles over us like a comforting blanket that’s somehow terrifying at the same time.
I swallow hard, torn between the urge to pull him closer and the instinct to protect myself. “What are we doing?”
“I don't know,” he admits, his honesty disarming me. “I know I don't want to stop. But I will. Say the word, and we’ll finish our wine, I’ll kiss you goodnight. And I’ll leave.”
His confession and his offer hang between us for a heartbeat or two.
My dress forgotten, I stretch up to my toes and bring his head down to mine so I can claim his lips with an unhurried hunger that makes my knees weak. He tastes like heaven, and I sink into him, running my hands everywhere I can reach, before sliding them into his hair, curling my fingers, and pulling slightly.
He groans into my mouth, his arms wrapping around me tighter.
Somehow, we end up sitting on the bed with me in his lap, my dress riding up my thighs as his hands explore the curve of my waist and the length of my bared leg.
He breathes against my neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat and across my chin. “If this isn’t what you want, please tell me to stop.”
“Don't you dare.” I tilt my head to give him better access.
He finds the tie on my dress, and with one sharp tug, it loosens, the fabric falling open to reveal my black lace bra and matching thong. His eyes darken as he takes me in, delicately tracing the edge of lace where it meets my skin with his thumb. “You're even more beautiful than I remember.”
My body isn't the same as it was at seventeen. But the hunger in his eyes makes those insecurities evaporate like morning dew, replaced by a confidence I've never felt with anyone else.
I reach for the buttons of his shirt, my fingers trembling slightly as I undo them one by one, revealing tanned skin and hard muscle with a light brushing of hair. There's a scar on his left shoulder, puckered and pale, and another across his ribs. I trace them gently. “Do they hurt?” I ask, pressing a kiss to the one on his shoulder.
“Not anymore.” His hands are warm on my bare skin as he slides my dress off my shoulders, letting it pool around my waist.He helps me push his shirt off so I can rest the palm of my hand over his chest, where his heart beats rapidly beneath.
This is really happening. After years of wondering, of what-ifs, we're here.
Reaching up and grabbing him by the back of his neck, I bring him down for another searing kiss, marveling at how addictive his taste is. When he places one hand over my breast, kneading it through the lace of my bra, I arch against him. When he brushes a thumb over my nipple, sparks of pleasure skip over my skin, and I deepen the kiss further, my tongue swirling around his in a dangerous tango.
His mouth leaves mine to trail down my neck, across my collarbone, until he's kissing the swell of my breast. Pushing the fabric aside, he takes my hard nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his lips and his teeth until I'm gasping his name.
“More. I need more.” Desperate to have his skin against mine, I fumble with his belt.
“Here, let me help.” Luke gently settles me on the bed, then stands only long enough to shed his boots, jeans, boxers, and socks.
Sweet Jesus. He’s bigger than I remember, hard and ready, his cock pointing straight at me, a translucent bead of precum dangling precariously from the tip. Without a thought, I slide off the bed and drop to my knees.
“Callie.”
I gently wrap my fingers around his length and close my fist, fascinated by how soft and warm it feels. Lowering my head, I lick that precious salty drop off the end. Closing my eyes and loosening my hold slightly, enough to work my fist up and down, I fit my mouth over the tip and wrap my lips around him.
“Oh, God, Callie.” He grips my hair, holding my head as he gently rocks his hips forward. “That feels… Fuck.”
Sucking him in, I swirl my tongue around the width, savoring the velvety texture while tracing every ridge and vein. The taste of his skin is intoxicating, a heady blend of salt and desire, and I bob my head in a steady rhythm, matching the pumping action of my hand and his thrusting hips.
When I tighten my grip, his cock pulses in my hand, hot and silky soft, weeping for attention. I flatten my tongue, running it from root to tip, lingering over a sensitive spot just below the head, drawing out a low, guttural moan from deep within his soul. The sound vibrates through me, a primal response that ripples down my spine. I pause and slowly lick the length of a particularly thick vein. He jerks and a thrill unlike any other rolls over me when his breath hisses out between his teeth. The scent of his body wraps around me, each inhale filling my lungs with this heady, masculine aroma that heightens my own arousal.
His breath starts coming in ragged gasps, every exhale a soft grunt that mingles with the wet sounds of my mouth on his cock. He tugs on my hair, the sensation a pleasurable sting on my scalp as he guides me.
I glance up, startled to meet his heavy-lidded, laser-focused gaze, and take him deeper, feeling him hit the back of my throat before I retreat, only to repeat the motion, my lips forming a tight seal.
A preview of what’s to come spills onto my tongue, and I suck harder, my cheeks hollowing as I work him, every movement designed to drive him to the edge.
He tenses, his muscles flexing as he nears his climax. His grip becomes insistent, and his hips jut forward as he grunts harshly. He closes his eyes and tosses his head back.
