Things We Left Behind (Knockemout Series, 3)

We barely made it home.

I knew Lucian had important, vital things to take care of. Like destroying a crime boss who had just threatened our lives. I trusted him to handle it, I realized.

I didn’t trust the man not to crush my heart into a pancake, but I trusted him with my life.

All that was very important. But there was one thing that trumped them all. It had been weeks since we’d been together—orgasmically—and crime boss or no crime boss, I was a volcano of lust.

“That was so fucking hot,” I murmured against his mouth as he carried me over the threshold and kicked the door shut behind us. My legs were locked around his waist, my hands fisting in his hair, holding him to me.

I knew what had gotten into me, but I wasn’t sure why Lucian had turned ravenous beast the second he’d pushed me into the back seat after I’d gone all “shrew” on his mother. At the moment, I didn’t particularly care.

“What was?” he demanded, yanking the straps of my dress down.

“You being all ‘ho-hum, I’m so bored by your pathetic threats,’” I said, kissing and biting my way down his neck.

He growled, and the vibrations rippled through my nipples that were plastered against him. “You have two seconds to help me get you out of this dress, or I’m going to destroy it.”

I didn’t move fast enough for his liking and found myself perched on the cold marble of the entryway table. The man had the top of my dress wrestled to my waist in seconds with only one or two horrendous ripping noises.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” I reminded him over the hammering of my heart.

“You’re right. It means everything,” he countered.

“Agree to disagree,” I decided. It wasn’t an argument worth having right this second.

He removed my strapless bra deftly with one hand and let out another low growl before diving for me face-first.

I let out a strangled laugh. “Why are you so obsessed with my boobs?”

“For the same reason you’re obsessed with my dick. Because they’re fucking perfect,” he said as his mouth found its way to the first sensitive peak.

Well, he wasn’t the only one who was going to play. It felt too good, being spread so wide in front of him, his mouth working its magic on my sensitive peak.

I reached between us and found his erection straining beneath the fabric of his pants. I gripped him hard.

“Goddammit,” he hissed against me.

A shudder ran through me. I could feel the pulls of his mouth echo inside me.

Without breaking contact with my breast, Lucian reached between my legs and dragged the sheer pink crotch of my underwear to the side. “Need to feel you.”

I was good with that. So good with it I barely flailed at all when he gripped me by the hips and scooted me to the very edge of the table.

“Hold still, Pix,” he ordered, batting my hand away from his crotch. I was about to argue until I heard the sound of his zipper.

“Oh God,” I groaned as he angled the plush head of his penis against my clitoris, parting the lips of my sex.

Lucian released my sensitized nipple with a pop. The cool air made the wet tip even more pronounced.

“Don’t stop working my cock, baby,” he ordered before moving to my other nipple.

I obliged and gripped the velvet-smooth shaft.

He groaned and whispered, “Such a good girl,” against my breast.

I let out a pathetic, gasping moan as he laved my ignored nipple with his magical tongue. I was so wet, and every suck from his mouth, every nudge from the head of his cock made my insides spasm emptily.

My grip on him had to be painful, but the noises he made at my breast were ones of ecstasy. I grabbed the back of his head with my free hand and held him against me. My breasts felt heavy and swollen from his attention.

Without warning, he reached between us and speared two fingers into my opening. We moaned together as if sharing the pleasure.

His fingers worked me mercilessly as I rode his hand and stroked his cock with borderline violence.

It felt like magic. We were magic.

He braced a hand under my rear end, angling me until my back was on the table. And then I felt the probing finger. First it dipped between my legs where I had turned to Aquawoman. Then it slid higher, dancing up the cleft between my cheeks. It stopped and probed gently at the puckered entrance.

He pulled back from my breast, leaving my nipple damp and distended. There was a question in his eyes. He was asking for permission.

I didn’t trust my words. So I answered him the best way I could, by shifting my hips and pushing back against that finger.

With a possessive growl, Lucian speared one finger into my rear end just as his other fingers curled inside my sex. His cock released a surge of precum onto my fingers. He liked possessing my body, craved it even.

I was hanging on by one teeny, tiny, tensile thread. I was spread open and filled up. My entire body was taut with the need to orgasm. And when his mouth found my breast once again, when he gave one, deep suck, I came apart.

The orgasm slammed into me, wrecking me. My inner walls clamped down on his fingers as he worked them inside me.

I kept working his cock with my hand, kept riding his fingers, kept pressing back against that single digit that filled me in a brand-new way.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

I clung to his cock like it was an anchor in the storm while my orgasm ravaged us both.

“Let me come on you,” he demanded roughly.

But I had other ideas.

I released his erection and pushed against his chest. He backed off immediately. “Tell me what you need,” he said, his voice husky.

I slipped off the edge of the table and sank to my knees in front of him.

“This,” I said, reaching out to encircle the root of his shaft with my hand. “Please.”

Fire blazed to life in those gray eyes when he realized what I was asking for.

His cock surged in my hand, wanting what I was asking for. Needing it.

“I trust you to take care of Hugo. I want you to trust me to take care of you,” I told him.

Lucian swallowed hard, his cheeks hollowing above the groomed edge of his beard. Then he nodded. My heart climbed into my throat. It was acquiescence enough. He was going to let me give him this.

I leaned forward and danced my tongue over him from root to tip. His convulsive shudder and whispered oath gave me the confidence of an oral sex superhero.

I parted my lips and, with no warning, took him to the back of my throat.

Lucian’s fist came down on the tabletop behind me. “Christ!” he barked as I worked him with mouth and fist. I took as much of him as I could, wanting to systematically seduce him, to reduce him to the need to come.

I cupped his velvety sack and squeezed.

A finger gently slid over my cheek. I looked up at him from my knees. He was a king, a titan, but I was in control. Then that finger was gone and he was shoving his hand roughly into my hair. “Dammit, Sloane. You’re the only one,” he muttered.

I let him guide my head with his hand, setting a new rougher, faster pace. The last vestiges of his control had vanished. I had done that to him.

He said it again and again as he filled my mouth over and over again. “You’re the only one.”

My fingers tightened on his heavy sack, and Lucian froze and held at the back of my throat. There was a sudden hot burst of precum.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he said. Dragging my mouth off his cock, he tackled me to the cold tile. “Say yes,” he said, notching the head of his erection between my legs with jerky movements.

“Yes!”

He held me in place with one hand on my shoulder and, with one surge, entered me. “Take me. All of me,” he ordered, his beard abrading my neck.

I was dizzyingly full. It felt so good. It was too much and yet somehow exactly right. There was nothing between us. I was fully possessed by him.

It was raw, real, and God help me, I wanted more. And Lucian gave it to me. When he released the first hot rope of come inside me, I obediently followed him, careening over the edge. I had no other choice.

“God. Yes, Sloane. My Sloane.” He groaned as he came and came inside me, detonating a release like no other.

Maeve: So Party Crasher Kurt and I talked and we’re going to try again.

Me: Hallelujah! I can’t wait to tell your kids about how Auntie Sloane made out with Daddy Kurt once when Mommy Maeve was being a dumbass.

Maeve: Maybe it’s best to leave that out of the conversation.

Me: Aha! You didn’t automatically dismiss the idea of having kids with Kurt! I knew you LIKED him liked him!

Maeve: Your little sister colors are showing.

Me: I can’t help it. Your happiness makes me happy. Also, I just had a bunch of orgasms…so…

Maeve: Same, girl. Same.

Me: High five.