Page 38 of Devil's Advocate
I nodded, swallowing hard.“More than okay,” my voice rasped with need.
Lucien’s smile was tender, a stark contrast to the raw hunger in his eyes.He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as his fingers withdrew, leaving me feeling hollow and desperate to be filled.I heard the rustle of the condom wrapper, saw the gleam of latex as he sheathed himself, and then he placed my legs over his shoulders and positioned himself between my legs, the blunt head of his cock nudging against me.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his gaze locked with mine, as he began pushing forward.
There was a moment of resistance, and then a sensation of being stretched beyond what I thought possible.I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin.Lucien stilled, allowing me to adjust to the intrusion, his body trembling with restraint.
Slowly, the discomfort subsided, replaced by a warmth that radiated from where we were joined.I relaxed, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him deeper.Lucien’s breath hitched, and he moved with exquisite care, each measured thrust stoking the fire within me.
“You feel so good, Jimmy,” he murmured against my neck, his voice thick with emotion.“So tight.So perfect.”
I couldn’t speak, could barely think beyond the sensation of him moving inside me.It was like nothing I’d ever experienced—every nerve alight, every part of me focused on the place where our bodies met.I clung to him, my body arching to meet his.
“Your body is holy,” Lucien slowed his pace.“This is beautiful.You are beautiful.”He rammed his cock all the way in, and my eyes snapped closed, fireworks exploding behind my eyelids.
Lucien’s rhythm quickened.It didn’t feel like lust driving him—it was something deeper.His breath caught against my throat, and I felt a tremor in him, the battle between restraint and the raw truth of what he was feeling.
The room blurred around us, the soft light bending into gold arcs on the wall.The creak of the bed faded under the sound of our breathing, and each movement sent a shiver racing through me.
“Jimmy,” Lucien panted, and I’d swear it sounded like a prayer and a promise at once.The world narrowed to the press of his body, the warmth of his skin, the fragile miracle of being seen and wanted exactly as I was.I clung to him, my heart hammering, knowing that whatever we’d just set on fire, I never wanted it to go out.
“Lucien, I’m—I’m going to—”
“Come for me, Jimmy,” he ground out, his movements growing erratic.“Let go.”
My orgasm hit me like a wave, and my vision whited out, every muscle in my body tensing and releasing as I spilled between us.
“Oh, fuck,” Lucien muttered, and his was pistoning in and out of me so fast.Then, with one final, hard thrust, he came inside me, his entire body shaking while a deep, low moan shook his chest.
We lay there, entwined and gasping for air, as the intensity of the moment ebbed away.Lucien carefully withdrew from me, disposing of the condom before collapsing onto the bed beside me.He pulled me close, our sweat-slicked bodies fitting perfectly together.
“Are you alright?”he asked after several long moments, his voice laced with concern.
I nodded, a contented sigh escaping my lips.“More than alright,” I echoed my earlier words, a lazy smile curving my lips.“I’m right where I want to be.”
Lucien pressed a kiss to my forehead, his arms tightening around me.“You’re amazing, Jimmy,” he whispered.“And I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
As we lay tangled in the quiet, something inside me finally unclenched.The past didn’t vanish, but it felt lighter—like I could breathe without bracing for judgment.For once, I wasn’t pretending or praying to be someone else.
Lucien’s heartbeat thudded steadily against my shoulder, and in that rhythm, I found a kind of peace I’d never known.
“Lucien,” I murmured, then pressed my lips against his neck, right under his ear.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
His grip on me tightened.“For what?”
“For being you.”
Epilogue
Jimmy Two Years Later
The morning sunlight spilled through the kitchen window like liquid honey, turning the steam rising from our coffee cups into gold.Lucien sat across from me at the little bistro table we’d picked up at a yard sale our first summer together—its paint still chipped, still perfect.One lock of his mussed hair fell over his forehead as he read the news on his tablet, and he was half-dressed in a faded Temple T-shirt that had survived a hundred washes.
Our breakfast plates sat between us—scrambled eggs, toast, and the kind of peace I never thought I’d earn.I’d just taken a sip of coffee when my phone buzzed on the table.I reached for it, thumb hovering over the screen.Sheila Singh .
