Ally
Wildest Dreams
Luke’s hands roam over my body. Fast, rough, and so demanding that I barely manage to stay upright as we race up his stairs in search of privacy. I said no for weeks and weeks; I’ve said no, but now I’m saying yes, and I can’t find it in my heart to take it back.
Luke bruises me without remorse. He doesn’t treat me like I’m delicate, breakable. But instead, like I’m the strongest of our pairing. And that in itself is an aphrodisiac I had no clue would have the power to send my blood racing. We move up one flight, and then another, and as we go, our legs tangle, our breath mingles, and because he’s so strong and sure-footed, I use his mass and force him to catch me when I stumble.
I work all day long in heels and have no trouble. But racing upstairs in sneakers while my eyes are closed and my tongue dances with his, I need the help, the balance, the assurances that I won’t fall and smack my head on anything too hard.
My whole being – mind, body, and soul – focuses on Luke’s hands. He’s fast, sneaky, and smooth, so when his fingertips touch on something bundled with nerves, I shoot a foot into the air and come down again with a desperate cry for more. But while he’s able to perform magic and keep my attention focused solely on how I feel under his touch, he’s able to steer us, to get a key into the front door, and then to push me through the messy kitchen and into the living room.
“Uh… you guys ar—”
“Shush,” Emma’s voice cuts Rob’s off. “Don’t be a cock-block.”
“Don’t speak,” Luke’s mouth moves on mine. His voice is all mine to swallow down. “Neither of you. Don’t speak.” He leads me into the hall before he tears my shirt up – his shirt – and tosses it to the floor. Then his hands come to the back of my bra.
Flick. He’s practiced, smooth, and doesn’t fumble a single step.
Unlike me.
My hands shake, and I’ve yet to pop a single button. My lust makes way for doubt, and my mindless want settles to the side, allowing me to obsess over my own clumsy moves, and my worries of whether I can keep up, whether I can stack up and bring him pleasure that way I’m certain he’s accustomed.
But then Luke slams his door closed, and tosses me to his bed without any kind of gentleness. Fully clothed, he rushes into my space before I can get up, drops to his knees on the floor, and grabbing my thighs, he yanks me to the end of the bed so his nose presses against my clit and my spine arches up high enough to hurt.
“Luke!”
“I’m gonna make you scream my name a dozen times before you get to come, Ally. Scream my name so the whole town knows who you’re with.”
“God,” I groan and crush my eyes closed when Luke unsnaps my jeans and pushes the zipper down without ceremony. Did I wear nice panties? Did I shave? These annoying thoughts flash through my mind and insist on ruining this for me.
But Luke is stronger than my brain, I suppose. He reaches under my butt, grabs onto the loops of my jeans, and tears everything down – panties and all – and bundles it all at my ankles.
I lay bare, open, and completely exposed to this man whose eyes don’t leave my core for a single second. He works on my shoes, my socks, and then removes my jeans and tosses them to the floor. But he does it all without watching his hands. He watches me, he licks his lips, and when his hands are free, he takes no time before he touches.
“I wondered if you’d have hair here.” He runs the pad of his thumb over my clit, grins when I shoot up, and uses his other hand to hold me down. “I wondered about the color,” he grits out. “The length. The shape you’d shave it into.” His eyes finally come up to mine. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“You have?” I swallow down my nerves and try not to implode before he truly even gets to touch.
“Yeah. In session, when I’m supposed to be thinking about trauma or self-control or whatever, I’m actually thinking about your pussy.” He slides his thumb inside, and reaches up with his other hand to massage my breast when I cry out. “When you were sitting in that wingback chair, all fancy with your skirt suit and high heels, you were taking notes about my psychological state, but in my mind, I was thinking about fucking you.”
“Oh god.” I throw my head back and groan.
“I was thinking about the in,” he slides his thumb deep inside. “And then the out. I was thinking about how tight you might be, and while you were being your snooty self, I smiled, because I figured if you were that uptight at work, you’d be tight as a fuckin’ vise in bed.”
Pushing to his feet, but still working me with his hand, Luke climbs onto the bed and kneels between my legs. “And I wasn’t wrong.” He takes my mouth with his. My eyes remain squeezed shut, but he takes my mouth and swallows down my cry when my heart wants to explode.
And, well, my pussy too.
“I dreamt about you, Allyson. I dreamt during the day, while I worked, while I pulled screws from that pier, and while I sat in front of you in Sonia’s office.” He pulls his thumb away from my aching core, but then he grinds down and lets the denim covering his hard cock do the work. “Then I went home, and I dreamt of you some more. In the shower.” He grinds down again and swallows my cry. “I made myself come at least a dozen times since I met you.”
“You touched yourself?”
“So many fucking times.” Reaching back, he grabs the fabric of his shirt and yanks the whole thing over his head and tosses it away. Pressing closer to me, our bare skin touches, my bare breasts on his bare chest, and twin groans echo in the space between us. “And every single time, I thought of you in a fucking skirt suit.” Chuckling, he crawls down my body, and takes my pebbled nipple between his lips. When I cry out, he claps a hand over my mouth and silences me.
It hurts, the unintentional slap, but that only builds the electricity in my blood. The pain, the roughness, the demand. It coalesces in my veins and brings me closer to the edge of oblivion.
“I think it’s safe to say I now have a fetish that involves suits, clipboards, and reading glasses.”
“I don’t wear reading glasses.”
He chuckles. “In my dreams, you did. It was part of the look.” He bites down on my nipple and grinds down against the mattress. “Fuck, Ally. You taste like expensive sex.”
“Well… okay.”
I lick his palm when he refuses to move it away, then bite down when the urge overtakes my every brain cell. I don’t want to be a victim in what we do in here. I don’t want something to be done to me. I want to be an active participant, and as each moment passes and nothing humiliating happens, my nerves slide away and make room for my most desperate desires.
“Here. Let me—”
I have to work extra hard to push him aside. Luke is twice my size, getting close to twice my weight, so unless he allows it, I can’t move him anywhere. But he takes the hint, flips to his back, and when I follow and straddle his hips, he groans and thrusts them up so the zipper hits my clit and almost undoes me.
“I’m nervous.” I finally take a moment to study his broad chest, the tattoos on the balls of his shoulders, the deep valley between his pecs, since he so obviously spends a lot of time on his chest at the gym. “I’m so nervous I’ll do something weird and embarrass myself that I’m gonna be sick. So just…” I dive down and take his nipple between my teeth until he barks out a cry of pleasure. “Don’t make a big deal about it if I do something wrong.”