Lucas's POV
I carry her toward the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind us, muffling the world outside. "Fuck, Amy," I growl, dropping her roughly onto the mattress, towering over her with a predatory intensity. She's vivid, alluring-too much to resist tonight. I begin pulling my shirt off with deliberate slowness.
Her eyes widen, catching on the hard lines of my chest, the sculpted abs I've worked for. Her breath hitches, and then she smirks, peeling off her T-shirt in one fluid motion, revealing soft curves and skin that begs to be touched. "I like your six-pack, Lucas," she teases, her voice low, sultry, her gaze trailing down my torso like a caress.
I kneel beside the bed, my pupils dilating as I drink her in, every inch of her igniting a fire in my veins. "And I like everything about you, Amy," I murmur, my hand claiming her thigh, possessive, sliding up the smooth expanse of her skin. "Tonight, I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good."
Her cheeks flush, red as ripe fruit, and her voice trembles. "But… please, don't cross the line. I'm not ready for… more." The way she bites her lip, the way her body shifts toward me despite her words, betrays her.
"Amy…" My voice is hoarse, strained, the effort of holding back making my muscles tense. "I won't push you further. I promise. But let me make you feel good tonight. Just let me have this." My eyes bore into hers, pleading, burning with a need I can barely contain.
She looks up, her gaze wide, vulnerable, seeing the war raging inside me—passion tethered by a fraying thread. Her resistance crumbles, her breath hitching. "Just kiss me," she whispers, trembling, "before I change my mind."
I don't hesitate. I lean down, my lips brushing hers softly at first, questioning, then crashing into her with a hunger that consumes me. She melts against me, her arms circling my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as she pulls me closer. The kiss is slow, deep, a smoldering fire that tastes of every unspoken desire, every secret thought we've buried. My hands slide to her waist, pulling her flush against me, her soft curves pressing into my chest, making her gasp. I feel her heart racing, matching the frantic rhythm of mine, my muscles taut with the effort of restraint.
I break the kiss, my lips trailing along her jaw, down the delicate curve of her neck, each kiss deliberate, searing. Her breath catches, fingers gripping my shoulders, nails biting into my skin. Every pause is heavy with tension, every touch a spark that threatens to ignite us both. "Amy…" I breathe, my voice rough, caught between reverence and raw need.
Her eyes meet mine, hazy with desire, hesitation flickering but fading fast. "Tell me to stop," I say, my voice low, "and I will."
She doesn't. Instead, she surges forward, her lips crashing into mine, a rush of heat and emotion that drowns out everything else. I guide her to straddle my lap, her legs tangling with mine, the closeness pulling soft gasps from us both. My hands settle at her hips, warm and firm, my fingers brushing the bare skin just above her waistband. She shivers, and I pause, watching her face, waiting for permission, every second stretching taut with anticipation.
"You feel like fire," I whisper against her lips, my breath ragged, my control slipping.
"And you feel like danger," she replies, her voice low, teasing, but laced with a need that mirrors mine.
We kiss slower now, savoring every second, letting the moment linger. Our foreheads press together, flushed and breathless, tangled in feelings too raw, too big to name. But I can't stop there. I adjust her gently, laying her down on the bed, my eyes tracing every curve of her body—every detail a masterpiece I want to memorize. "Oh god… you're fucking beautiful, Amy," I say, the words slipping out, raw, more confession than compliment.
Her eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, the world stills—just her, just us, suspended in heat and silence. "Don't… tease me," she murmurs, her voice shaky, her eyes flickering with fear and want. "What if Anne comes home now?" Her body betrays her, though, her hips shifting, her thighs parting slightly, begging for my touch.
I grip her ankles, my hands sliding slowly up her legs, deliberate, possessive. "Don't think about her," I say, my voice a low growl as I lean down, biting her inner thigh lightly, leaving faint marks that make her gasp. "Let me taste your sweetness tonight." My eyes darken, my hunger consuming me as I move higher, my lips brushing closer to where she's already trembling for me. "Just feel this, Amy."
She nods, shy but desperate, her voice barely a whisper. "Please… be gentle."
But her plea only stokes the fire in me. My eyes flash with possessive hunger, and without warning, I tug her pants and panties down in one swift motion. She gasps, "Lucas…" her voice a mix of shock and need, her hands fisting the sheets.
My desire takes over, primal, unrelenting. I spread her thighs, gripping them firmly, my tongue circling her sensitive flesh with a slow, deliberate hunger. She moans, her legs wrapping around me, pulling me closer as I devour her, each flick of my tongue a claim, a promise. "So fucking sweet," I groan against her core, my voice muffled, vibrating against her. I look up, licking my lips, my eyes burning with possessive need. "Like honey meant only for my tongue."
Her moans grow louder, her breath hitching, her body arching as she struggles to speak. "Lucas…" she gasps, her voice fracturing under the onslaught of sensation.
I grip her thighs tighter, my groans deepening as her taste drives me wild. "Fucking perfect," I growl, slipping two fingers inside her, feeling her clench around me, hot and slick. My tongue never stops, circling, teasing, while my fingers curl expertly, finding the spot that makes her tremble. "I want to taste you, Amy," I rasp, my voice thick with hunger. "Every fucking drop."
She cries out, her hands tangling in my hair, her body surrendering completely. "You're rough… but I…" She hooks a leg over my shoulder, pulling me closer, her voice breaking. "I love it."
Her words send fire through my veins, a surge of possessive need that makes my head spin. "Love it rough, huh?" I growl, sliding a third finger inside her, curling them precisely, relentlessly, determined to push her over the edge. My tongue moves faster, hungrier, my grip on her hips bruising as I anchor her to me. "Good girl," I murmur, my eyes locking onto hers, dark and feral. "Come for me, Amy. Let me feel you break."
Her moans turn to desperate cries, her body trembling under the onslaught. Every flick of my tongue, every thrust of my fingers, is a claim, a vow to unravel her completely. Her thighs quake, her hips bucking against my mouth as she teeters on the edge. "Lucas… oh god…" she gasps, her voice raw, her eyes squeezing shut as the tension snaps.
She shatters, her body clenching around my fingers, her sweetness flooding my tongue as she comes undone. I don't stop, lapping at her greedily, drawing out every shudder, every broken moan, my groans vibrating against her as I savor the taste of her release. My eyes never leave her face, watching the way she falls apart, her flushed cheeks, her parted lips—mine, if only for tonight.
Finally, I pull back, my breath ragged, my lips glistening as I crawl up to hover over her. "You're fucking incredible," I whisper, my voice hoarse, my body still humming with the need to claim her in every way. But I honor her boundary, my hands gentle now, brushing her hair from her face as I press a soft kiss to her lips, letting her taste herself on me.
The tension lingers, heavy with unspoken emotions, our bodies still tangled, our breaths syncing in the quiet. Anne's shadow looms in the back of my mind, but right now, it's just Amy—her taste, her heat, her everything—burning through me like a fire I can't extinguish.