Page 121 of Coveted

My mind whirling, I rub my forehead. “You’ve known all along what I did. I can’t believe it. And you still wanted me?”

“I wanted you more.” He caresses my cheek. “You’re brave. You don’t do things by halves. You’re the same as me, at your heart.”

For the first time, I like the thought of being similar to Lucan in some way.

He’s right. Our hearts are edged in something hidden and raw. He recognized it in me and wanted to get closer. Maybe I recognized it in him too, only it scared me.

But opening up to him doesn’t feel scary. I feel lighter, like the invisible shroud of shame has slipped from my shoulders.

A cool ripple of air passes around us, fluttering my hair. Lucan tucks stray strands behind my ears, cups my face, and presses his mouth to mine. I don’t know whether it’s baring my soul or being in a Parisian graveyard, but nothing in me says this is a bad idea.

Lucan, in this moment, seems like a good idea. He sees me, he knows me, he wants me. Nothing else matters as he kisses me in the alabaster moonlight with nobody except the dead as witnesses.

He walks backward as we feverishly kiss, threading his hands in my hair while I tear at the buttons of his shirt. My fingernails drag across his hard pectorals. He sits on a bench and pulls me into his lap.

“Now do you understand?” he murmurs against my lips as my tongue teases and tastes him. “I told you we’re meant for each other.”

What would happen if I chose to believe him?

He slides his hands under the coat on my shoulders. Twitching down the flimsy straps of my gown, he reveals my breasts to the cool night air. My nipples harden as he licks them and kneads my flesh with his fingers.

Heat flares in my core like a phoenix rising. My body wants him more than ever, now that my mind and soul feel safer. Ripping the last of his shirt buttons free, I tug at his belt.

“I need you inside me,” I whisper.

“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” he says with heavily hooded eyes.

He lifts my dress to my waist. His fingertips push aside my lace underwear to find my soaked pussy, and my head falls back from the pure intensity of the sensation.

I’m throbbing for him, I know he can feel it, and I’m no longer ashamed. He knows the worst thing about me. It’s exhilarating and freeing.

His teeth clamp my nipple and I cry out with the pleasurable pain he inflicts so well.

My frantic hands unzip him. He shifts himself to help me free his cock from the confines of his pants. The shaft slams into my stomach, sending a fresh wave of hunger through me.

Rabid with need, I straddle him on the stone bench. My hands grip his neck and his fingers dig into my hips, and our tongues entwine with a bruising force.

“That’s it, Sadie,” he growls into my ear. “I want you to ride me. Show me how good we are together.”

He guides the slippery head of his cock to nestle against my pulsing folds. Without further warning, he tightens his hold on my hips and pulls me down onto him.

His cock invades my pussy with a burning ecstasy that turns my vision briefly white. Sitting flush in his lap feels so good that I might come without a single thrust. He stretches the limits of my body, while we ravage each other with our mouths and hands. My swollen clit pulses against his cock, making me wetter.

Then he lifts me effortlessly, my body rising until his tip nearly slides from me, before ruthlessly driving me back down. He does it again and again, a mind-wiping orgasm building in my core, while his jaw clenches and his eyes blaze into mine.

Swiveling on the bench, he lies on his back with me on top, legs astride him. In this position, his cock spears deep inside me, making me gasp with the stabbing new waves of pleasure.

Though I lean down to kiss him, he guides me up again.

“I want to see you, sweetheart,” he says. “You look so fucking perfect with my cock in you.”

His thumb and forefinger torture my nipples.

My hair falls around my shoulders as I ride him, pumping up and down his slick shaft. Whenever I stop short of the base, he grips my hips and drives himself home.

“You’re going to come for me,” he says. “I can fucking feel it.”

He doesn’t let me breathe, thrusting into me without pause. I bounce on him, adoring every moment of feeling wildly alive. The cold graveyard breeze kisses my sweaty face and body.