Page 80 of Filthy Twisted Devil

Despite Mom’s proof of home ownership, I agreed to Wade’s rules. It’s not that I thought he was right; I just knew he’d make all our lives a living hell if I let Luke stay in my room, and I didn’t feel like dealing with it.

A decision I’m starting to regret, now that I’m stuck lying in bed alone. After last night in the stables, I’m really craving some company.

Luke and I didn’t have a single chaperone-free moment to get close again today. We spent the day horseback riding, while Rainbow Sprinkles showed remarkable patience with Luke’s complete absence of horsemanship and Jasper supervised from the barn door. After that, my mom served us all her famous cornbread chili casserole. Dinner was loud and rowdy, with Luke happily joining in on Reed and Wade’s furious debate over the ideal way to grill a burger and the appropriate toppings to put on it.

Luke excused himself early, telling us all he wanted an early night before his flight the next morning. My brothers all shook his hand goodbye, while Mom stood to give him a hug. Since I would be driving him to the airport, we were spared the audience of a public goodbye. All I got was a light kiss on the cheek before he went upstairs, a far cry from the real goodbye I’ve been craving.

I’m distracted by a small brushing sound, almost like broom bristles on wood. It happens again, and I realize it’s coming from my door. I hop out of bed and open it, finding Luke with his hand raised. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that does fantastic things for his biceps and low-slung plaid pajama pants.

“What were you doing?” I whisper, ushering him into the room and closing the door.

“I was pre-knocking,” he says quietly.

“What the heck is pre-knocking?”

Luke rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “I didn't want to knock and wake up your insane brothers. So I was kind of scratching my fingernails on your door, hoping you’d hear me.”

“You could have just texted me,” I point out.

“Right. Guess I didn’t think of that. So, this is your room.”

I nod, prepared for jokes about my old Breyer horse figurines. Luke doesn’t comment. He just looks around, taking everything in. He quickly skims the titles on my bookshelf, mostly classic literature that I either read in high school or was gifted by Reed, with a healthy selection of teenaged romance. Everything else is in Toronto.

He moves onto the framed photos on the wall, which mostly show me with my family or the horses. He smiles at one of Brinley and I at camp, grinning at the camera. She’s sunburned red and I’m smiling awkwardly around my braces.

“Cute,” he says.

I'm not in the mood to go down memory lane with him. Not when he’s steps away from my bed and I want him so badly. I perch at the edge of the mattress and play with the edge of my camisole.

“Should I take my pajamas off?” I ask.

Luke turns around, his white smile flashing in the dim light. “If you want.”

“I do, but I know you like to be in charge.”

His smile widens. “Yes. I do, but you don’t need to wait for my orders.” He strolls closer, raising my chin with two fingers. “Unless I tell you otherwise, do what makes you feel good. I want what you want, wildflower.”

I pull the thin cami over my head and toss it to the floor, and I’m gratified when I see Luke’s pupils expand at the sight of my body. I make a show of dragging my hands over my breasts and stomach until I reach the top of my shorts and panties. I lift my hips to pull them down my legs, and Luke watches my body while I watch him. Hot satisfaction ripples through me at the way his eyes grow hooded and his cock hardens under his pajama pants. God, I love knowing that I did that to him.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says quietly. “You know that? Months of watching you, and I still forget how to breathe every time.”

Once I’m naked, Luke smiles wickedly.

“Touch yourself,” he demands. “Anywhere that feels good, except your pussy. That’s mine.”

I do what he says, caressing my legs with one hand and playing with my breasts with the other. Having him watching me makes it feel a thousand times better than when I’m touching myself alone.

His eyes only leave me when he pulls off his shirt, and the sight of his muscled torso sends a jolt of heat between my legs. His pajama pants are next, his cock already hard from watching me. He strokes it lazily as he strolls the few steps to the edge of my bed. He kicks my legs open wider so he can step between them.

“I’m going to taste you now,” he says. “I don’t want you to come yet, so warn me when you’re close.”

Before I can respond, he drops to his knees. His hot breath brushes against my drenched cunt, then his lips brush my clit and I’m gone. It’s like he sends me into another place, where my racing thoughts are silent and the warm haze of desire cradles me like a cloud. I don’t need to worry about anything, because Luke’s got me.

He laps at me methodically, his tongue tracing over every inch of me as he draws out little gasps and moans. I’m so distracted, it takes me a second to remember to put my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. Luke doesn’t stop. He’s relentless, lapping at me with his tongue until I’m grinding against his face.

When he slides a finger inside me, satisfaction fills me. This is what I needed two nights ago and couldn’t get. I clench so tightly around him that he has to work to add a second finger. The way he stretches me is so bone-meltingly good, but I still want more. I need more. My body is hungry for him in a way I’ve never felt before.

“One more,” I whisper. “Please, Luke.”