His breath hovered, hot and damp on my skin. I didn’t dare look away from his gaze as he pressed a kiss to the apex of my thigh, tongue flattening over the throb of my pulse there. Another kiss, closer, heat burning through me. And then finally his mouth was on me, hot and unfiltered, licking a long, unbroken stripe right up the center.
I jerked, a full-body shudder, every muscle tensing as the sensation hit. Luka latched on, tongue circling my clit in slow, relentless strokes, suction building until the entire world funneled down to that single, wet point of contact.
He didn’t speak. No commands, no rough praise. Just a hum of hunger vibrating from his chest, lips locked like he needed to breathe through me.
He took his time, working me open until my thighs trembled around his jaw. I pressed my fist to my mouth to keep from crying out, heat searing up my spine as he held me right at the edge. I clamped my other hand to the back of his head, fingersdigging into the soft burr of his close-cropped dark hair, holding him tight, desperate for more.
He obliged, flattening his tongue and swiping from slick opening to aching clit, again and again, until the pressure mounted past ache, past pain, past thought.
I bucked against him.
He didn’t pull away or slow, just pressed his mouth flatter, harder, and let me chase the friction until the tension broke.
Pleasure hit hard enough to erase every other sense. My hips snapped up, and Luka anchored me with his hands on my thighs, holding me open, devouring every spasm.
Before I could catch my breath, he was moving up my body, kissing a path from navel to sternum. Each glancing touch felt as electric as the first. He braced himself on his forearms, his heat and weight heavy over me, and searched my face—for fear, hesitation, regret maybe.
I nodded.
The relief that flashed across his face was quick, almost painful to see.
He reached for the nightstand, fingers closing around a foil packet. A soft tear, a quiet shift of his hand. Then he positioned himself and pushed inside me, slow and deliberate, the stretch a perfect agony that stole the breath from my lungs. Inch by inch, he filled me, careful not to rush—letting me pulse open around him, letting my body relearn the shape of his, holding me in that impossible fullness, his gaze never leaving mine.
He stopped. Just held there, buried deep, his chest shuddering against mine.
A sound escaped me—half sob, half moan. He flinched, like the noise might cut him.
That’s when I realized that Luka was afraid—of the feeling, the wanting, or maybe of what it might do to us both if we let it out in the open air. But he didn’t look away. His gaze stayedlocked on mine, steady and exposed, and something in my chest tightened for him.
He began to move. Not the usual brutal drive, but a slow, deliberate roll of his hips—a rhythm that felt more like dancing than fucking. Each forward glide filled me. Each retreat left me aching. The movement deepened, the pressure building where our bodies met, friction turning sharp and insistent. His mouth landed on mine, open and starving, tongue sliding deep as he drove into me.
The kiss and the sex blurred together—the same urgency, the same hunger, the same dangerous feeling of being seen all the way through.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and locked my ankles at the base of his spine, drawing him deeper. The angle shifted, and a bolt of pleasure spiked through me.
Luka groaned, the sound shredded and unguarded. He pressed forward harder, grinding between each stroke, and my body answered without restraint.
He was losing himself. I could feel it—the way his control bled out, the way his hands shifted from careful to desperate, fingers digging into my hips, mouth crushing mine. I raked my nails down his back and felt the shiver ripple through him.
He was close—fighting to keep it together, to keep me on the edge with him.
But I was already there. I lifted my hips to meet him, the pressure building, higher and higher, until it broke. I braced my hands on his shoulders, nails digging half-moons into his skin, as the orgasm tore through me, ragged and hot and overwhelming.
Luka’s grip on my hips went vise-tight. He growled—a guttural, animal noise that vibrated through my whole body—as he drove into me, once, deep and final. I felt the exact moment he let go—the long, shuddering surrender.
I clung to him—legs, arms, everything—holding him there as the tremors worked through us both.
I pulled his head down and pressed my lips to his temple, his cheek, his lips—anything I could reach.
“Luka,” I whispered, my voice unsteady.
He shuddered against me, breath breaking low in his throat. Then he spoke—one word, the syllables rolling off his tongue like music.
“Alexandra.”
chapter
sixteen