Page 184 of Things We Left Behind
His grip on me tightened, and his mouth returned to mine. A second later, he went completely rigid, and I felt the first hot burst of his climax in the depths of my soul. It felt so good. So dirty. So right. Lucian Rollins was coming inside me.
His shout rang in my ears as another jet of release let loose inside me. “Sloane!”
I was coming again or still, triggered by his orgasm. He rode me, his thrusts slow and shallow as my body wrung every drop of his release free.
It was glorious. A fireworks show set off in my vagina, detonated by the obstinate man’s obliging penis.
Lucian collapsed on top of me, flattening me to the ottoman. He was still inside me, still on top of me, still coming. I never wanted it to end.
“You make me feel like I have no control,” he growled, still moving in me. It sounded like an accusation.
I took it as a compliment.
“This is ridiculous,” Lucian said when I pulled his ball cap lower over his face. “We’re adults, not teenagers. We shouldn’t have to sneak around.”
I zipped my coat all the way to my chin and covered my hair with the hood. “I’m hungry and all you have in your house are frozen, nutritious chef meals. Besides, do you really want Knockemout gossiping about us like we’re some kind of grumpy-sunshine love story?”
“I’m the sunshine in that scenario,” he said confidently.
“You’re the delusional grump who never wants to settle down, especially not with the beautiful, charming, book nerd next door. I’m the perky, sunshiny heroine who believes intrue love. Just not with you because I’m only using you for orgasms.”
He shook his head. “You’re going to miss those orgasms when you meet Mr. Right. There are some things only Mr. Wrong can deliver.”
“We’ll see about that.”
We headed outside, cutting across his driveway and the strip of snow-covered grass to my place.
The lights were on across the street, but there were no errant dog walkers or couples out for a romantic, arctic stroll.
I blew out a sigh of relief and jogged up the walk to my front porch, pulling Lucian with me.
“I think I have some chocolate chips in the pantry,” I said.
Suddenly, Lucian nabbed me around the waist and pulled me back.
“I take it chocolate chips make you horny?”
But he was positioning his body between me and the front door.
“Go back to my place,” he said, his voice cold.
“What? Why? What’s going on?”
I tried to peer around his broad back, but he spun and gripped me by the shoulders. “Do as I say.”
I saw it then, the morbid, nauseating pile of matted fur and long, fleshy tails. “Oh my God.”
On an oath, Lucian picked me up and marched me off the porch. He set me down on the walkway where I no longer had a clear view of the door.
“I don’t suppose that’s common behavior for rats,” I said, fighting the rising nausea.
“No, it isn’t,” he said sternly.
“Damn it. You better go back. I have to see a man about a pile of frozen rats.”
“No, you’re going back to my place, and I’m calling Nash.”
“If you call Nash, the chief of police will know that we were together tonight. Which means the rest of the town will know by morning. And they’ll be speculating about these threats.And you don’t live here anymore, but I do. I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with the attention.”
