Something to Die For by Kaye Blue

Twenty-Three

Angel

“You need to sleep,”Lucas said, God only knew how many hours later.

The moon was high, lighting the living room, and I hadn’t closed my eyes for more than a minute.

He was right. I needed to sleep, but I needed something else more.

Caution, common sense, all of that was out of the window.

I went to him where he stood and stopped in front of him, then stretched up tall and started to kiss him.

The press of his lips against mine made me sigh, and I kissed him deeper, the need that had inspired me intensifying.

It was insane, wrong, but couldn’t be denied.

I didn’t know what I was feeling, or rather I was feeling so much I didn’t want to try to process it. My emotions were a jumble, a tangle that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to sort out.

But through my despair, sadness, all of the other feelings I hadn’t yet sifted through, one thing was clear.

I wanted him, needed him.

I tried to put that feeling into the kiss, to find an outlet for all of the emotions that needed release.

He was still but then kissed me back, and then finally took control, wrapping his strong arms around my waist and crushing my body against his.

I moaned at the contact, at the hardness that pressed insistently against my stomach. Couldn’t wait to feel it in inside me.

But then he was gone.

I’d closed my eyes but quickly opened them, wildly seeking the feeling that I needed so much.

Lucas stared down at me, his eyes so very dark but not unreadable.

He wanted me.

Wanted me as much as I wanted him.

Maybe more.

I could see that, had felt it in the hardness that had throbbed against my stomach, in the way he curled his fingers around my waist.

“Why did you stop?” I asked breathlessly.

He breathed out a deep, his lids lowering.

“You’re going through some shit. You—”

“Are you trying to tell me how I feel?” I asked, voice still breathless but at the same time stern.

“No, I’m not trying to tell you, but I know. You’re hurting. And that hurt is going to make you do shit you’ll regret.”

“And you’re telling me you’re too noble to take advantage?” I asked.

He eyes narrowed. “Don’t play games with me, Angel. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“No, it’s about this, about what we both want,” I said as I trailed my hand down his hard stomach and gripped his steel-hard cock.

“Angel…” he practically hissed.

I tightened my grip, smiled when he breathed out deep and hardened even further against my palm. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I really do. But we both know what’s out there, just like we both know there’s no time for regret. All we have is this moment, right here, right now. And what I want is you. I think you want me too.”

I couldn’t be sure about that, not really, but I hadn’t forgotten the way he’d kissed, how his eyes glittered with desire now.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t pull farther away.

So I kissed him again, felt him tighten his hands around my waist.

He returned the kiss, used his tongue to master my mouth just like I wanted his cock to master my body.

He let out a low moan that was filled with the same desire that was coursing through my blood. Then he moved his hands up my waist to cup my breasts.

I broke the kiss, stepped back, saw the desire in his deep exhales, in the way he was devouring me with his eyes.

“Take off your clothes,” he said on a tortured-sounding whisper that made my heart race and my sex clench.

I didn’t need to be told twice, and as I pulled off the button-down shirt and then my T-shirt, he kicked off his boots and removed his shirt.

I pushed down my jeans and took my panties with them, which left me in only my bra.

He seemed to look at all of me at once, and I did the same, watching avidly as he lowered his pants to expose his thick, delicious-looking cock.

A cock that hardened even further when I tossed my bra aside.

My nipples were already hard but puckered more under the cool air in the room and his heated gaze.

He lifted his arm slowly, a faint tremble in it, and stroked his finger against my nipple, then reached out with both hands to fill them with my breasts.

“Perfect…” he whispered, kneading my heavy breasts with his thick fingers.

I’d always felt anything but. Average looks, large breasts that had never been perky, thick hips and thighs that were too much, but in this most unlikely moment, I felt perfect just as he said I was.

And while I might have felt perfect, Lucas undoubtedly was perfect. He appeared chiseled out of stone, every inch of him sculpted muscle covered in bronze skin dusted with dark hair.

He stared at me for a second longer and then pulled me close, his heat and hardness enveloping me, making me feel safe and treasured.

Desired.

A feeling I more than returned.

I didn’t break the kiss as I reached between our bodies and stroked his long length. I moaned into his mouth, the feeling of his velvet-soft skin over hardness making my breath hitch. I squeezed my thighs together to ease the ache that only he could satisfy.

I could take no more.

I needed him now.

Our eyes locked when I broke the kiss, and, moving as one, we made our way to the guest bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, and I wasted no time mounting him.

I shifted, his hardness teasing at my soaking-wet entrance. I lingered there for a moment, but then settled on him in one smooth motion.

He filled me to the brink, beyond, the initial pain of his entrance fading, but his length and girth giving the pleasure an edge that made it that much more intense.

I rocked against him once, and he shifted, his knees digging into my hips, his arms wrapped tight around my shoulders.

He was so strong that I could barely move, but the constraint only intensified my pleasure, pleasure which spiked when he grabbed my breasts with his hands and palmed them roughly.

He groped and kneaded my breasts, thrust up into me as I rocked my hips against him, our rhythm erratic, lacking all smoothness.

It was perfection.

His rough breath, my own moans, his hands on my skin, his hardness filling me pushing me quickly toward the edge.

“That’s right, baby. You gonna come for me. Do it,” he said, pushing his knees harder into my waist, releasing one of my breasts to flick my clit. “Come for me. Come on my cock.”

The smooth bass of his voice, his finger on my clit, the way he pulsed inside of me—it was all too much.

I shattered, clamped down on him tight, the pleasure intensifying as he stiffened inside of me and then filled me with his seed.

I collapsed against him, the sweat that covered my body cooling, my breath coming out in a warm rush, for one of the only times I could ever remember not embarrassed by my naked body, my weight against him.

He could hold me.

I knew that, trusted it in a way that I had rarely trusted anything else.

My heart was thundering so hard, so loud, it sounded like it was outside of me.

I lay there, my eyes closed, listening to the sound as a realization came over me.

That sound…

It wasn’t my heart at all.

“Lucas, what is that?”