Page 16 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

Everly

Luca stood in my room, looking me over like a piece of meat. He leaned back into the dressing table, tanned hands pale as he held the wood hard.

“You’re not getting past my panties, Luca Mendes,” I warned him, but leaned back on the bed, spreading my legs in the hope that he could see the high-waisted thong through my thin tights.

It might be our last and only night together, but I still couldn’t bring myself to break down that wall — to let him see the marks on my lower belly or to have me completely.

Even if I wanted to have all of him.

It’s not a big deal, but maybe keep the lights off next time. I don’t want to get distracted.

Pedro’s words had stayed with me. I recalled them every time I rubbed in my steroid cream. My condition took away from my beauty. They were a distraction even for someone who had loved me.

“I can think of plenty of ways for us to both get off with those still on,” he said, his eyes fixated on them.

I snorted a short laugh, glad to be back in the moment with him. “You sure think a lot of yourself,” I laughed. “Are you going to make me get myself off again? Too lazy to do it yourself because you can’t touch me? Seems you might be scared of my dad after all.”

He pressed off the drawers, standing against the bed in the space between my legs.

“Who said I won’t touch you?” He leaned over me, his breath tangling in my hair, as a gentle finger caressed my cheek, slowly dragging down my throat, then my collarbones, leaving a tingle behind his sweet, forceful touch.

My back straightened with a broken inhale.

His fingertips traced the swell of my tits in the corset top.

“I’ll touch whatever you’ll let me. I’ll hold, caress, torment.

Then I’ll touch, taste, tease . Only when you’re begging for me to get past these panties… ”

“You’ll what?” I rasped.

Through my fluttering eyes, I could only see his grin.

His finger dipped under the seam of my top, teasing the hidden skin.

“Show me what I can touch.”

I wanted to strip down to my bones.

Eyes locked on his, I reached around to unzip my dress. I hadn’t worn a bra and my tits were out as the dress fell to my hips.

He was eager, his lips hovering over mine as he pulled the garment and my tights down in the same movement, the stretching and scraping of my tights laddering in his desperation.

I sat back in just my knickers.

With a quick look down, the high-waisted material meant very little of my psoriasis marks were on show. In the dark, the red, raised bumps on my thighs were difficult to make out.

Luca didn’t notice.

He spread my legs, showing my cotton thong and lightly traced their seam, the pad of his finger partly on my skin, partly on the material. “I’m going to keep these on. I’ll touch you through them.”

His gentle caress ran over my slit, pressing the material to me over and over, already absorbing my arousal.

I was so fucking wet.

My thighs clenched with each stroke as I lay back on my elbows, head back, giving myself to him.

“They’re so soft,” he murmured, leaning over me. I suddenly despised his clothes. I’d admired him in them before, the simple, clean cut of his white top against his tanned skin, the way the short sleeves strained against his biceps.

But now I wanted to burn them. With how hot I was, the fire in me would surely catch them if he would just come closer.

“Even if I can’t touch this wet pussy directly,” he continued and swiped his bottom lip with his tongue, “my cock will glide over your sensitive little clit until you come.”

To hammer this home, he pinched my clit between his finger and thumb and I gasped at the sharp pleasure, elbows buckling and I fell to the mattress.

“This little innocent act is cute,” Luca said, on his knees at the foot of the bed, watching his fingers making me hyperventilate, rolling them against me.

“And it weakens me to my fucking knees, but in the bedroom, you’re going to be a slut for me, aren’t you?

I can already tell.” He leaned over me, now lying on my back against the pillows, for him to kiss my neck as he continued to stroke.

“Because your panties are already soaked, stuck to that sweet pussy.”

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, I wanted to beg, but his lips remained on my throat.

“I am having to physically restrain myself from pulling these panties to the side and just sinking into you, Everly.”

“Mmm,” I moaned as his finger started circling my clit.

“Do you want to be filled? Do you want this cock against your clit? Inside of you?”

Yes. More than anything.

“Damn, I want to taste you, Everly. I want to drag my tongue across you and lap you all up.”

With my eyes closed, his voice ran right down my spine.

The mattress dipped as he moved down the bed and then his fingers disappeared, replaced immediately with something else.

Eyes flung open, I didn’t need to look down to feel him press his tongue to my drenched cotton underwear.

The moan from his throat was so deep that it was almost a growl.

And I trembled.

“So wet,” he purred.

I shook my head, hating myself for making this stupid rule because I needed his tongue on my skin.

“Oh, you don’t think you’re wet?” he chuckled, cocky dimple showing just how chuffed he was. He pulled away, and I whimpered at the loss of his touch. He pressed his two fingers to my lips. “Taste how much you want me. Taste what you’re denying yourself.”

I opened my mouth and sucked them clean, taking them up and down. My flavour was on them even through my underwear.

He watched, transfixed, eyes darkening as his other hand traipsed up my thigh. When they touched my knickers, pressing the material to me, I sucked harder. “Just because you want your underwear on, it doesn’t mean I have to keep mine on, does it?”

I shook my head violently, sucking so harshly on his fingers to keep them in my mouth. My taste was gone, wholly lapped up by my greedy tongue, but I needed some control, something to hold in my mouth to stop myself from crying out and begging him to fuck me.

“So you want to see what you’re denying yourself too?”

Yes.

I sat up, pulled at his belt and he chuckled as I slipped his cock out, not even really noting it before I was fisting it. With my other hand, I shoved down his trousers until they pooled around his shoes.

“Beg me, Everly,” he taunted and lifted my chin with a firm finger. His eyes were intense, fixated on me, his words on my lips. “Beg me like a good girl. Say please.”

Oh dear. I was in trouble.

Good girl? Shit.

I wet my lips with my tongue, slowing the desperate pace of my fist to look away from him before I caved and saw what I wanted to taste. What I wanted to ride . His cock was enormous, girthy and veiny, and if I stared at it any longer, I would be the one to rip off my knickers.

Instead, I beat his cock faster until he was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes closed, breaths deep.

I wasn’t about to beg first. He would plead for me .

“Your hands are good, but I’m sure your words would be sweeter,” he said. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“Fun,” I almost snarled. My hands were better than good.

He laughed deeply, his cock twitching in my hand. “Be specific, Everly. Tell me all those little fantasies.”

When I didn’t, he grunted, lifted me by the waist and threw me back on the bed. I whimpered as the breath left my lungs, disoriented, almost lost between the pillows.

“Tell me.”

I want you to want me. That’s what he’d said. Was this part of that? Trying to fulfil all my secret, nasty desires in the hopes I would?

Was his confidence so low that he didn’t realise I wanted him already?

“Nothing you can do right now,” I murmured, pushing the pillows off the bed to see him towering over me, a hand on either side of my face.

His brows rose at my challenge. “Try me.”

“I will be sampling you tonight, yes.”

He breathed a frustrated laugh before dragging his teeth across the shell of my ear. My eyes rolled back and I almost saw heaven when he sucked on my earlobe and simultaneously rubbed at my clit again.

“I like—I like that,” I admitted.

He released me with a pop. “Duly noted, Everly.”

But he didn’t stay there; his mouth travelled down my neck as it had in the car, but this time, his pecks weren’t innocent lips pressing against skin. His teeth were scraping; his mouth was sucking, shooting pleasure from his touch down to my curled toes.

My underwear was so wet he may as well have been touching me bare. He used the friction of the material to work me into such a mess that I was grinding as his mouth reached my breasts. One hand squeezing them, he pulled my nipple taught between his teeth before sucking and then blowing on it.

Holy shit.

Every muscle tensed, and he smirked as he saw whatever reaction he’d teased out of me. Had I cried out? Screamed? Had I begged with that all-damning word ‘please’? How could blowing on my nipple have me so utterly fucked that I wriggled against his hand violently, moaning like a slut?

“You like that too.”

I nodded aggressively, praying he would do it again.

“Tell me, Everly,” he begged, pampering my other nipple with the same rough and then gentle treatment. My head was whirling.

“I’ll go further down for every little truth you give me,” he said before dragging his tongue in a horizontal line; his starting point. The one he needed to cross.

“Did you want Ces to watch?” he asked before pressing a sucking kiss to my nipple.

I shook my head.

His coaxing motion over my knickers stopped. My head shaking picked up, a silent protest for him to continue because words were too much.

“Did you want him to join us?”