Page 44 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

Luca

ETTORE: Nothing. Probably a different plane.

Thank fuck.

No. Fuck. I shouldn’t be relieved that we hadn’t found anything.

Even if finding something would mean I got to leave.

But I wouldn’t just be leaving Ciclati. I’d be leaving her.

When I mentioned there was a line-dancing bar in the town where we were staying, her eyes lit up, just like her brothers’ at Christmas, and she stomped her feet in excitement.

We were in the hotel for less than twenty minutes as she changed into the boots I got her for Christmas and dragged Nix and Livie into our taxi.

My joints were too rigid for the dancing. I blamed it on spending too much time on a bike.

She blamed it on me being awkward and ‘not letting loose enough’.

When she tried to teach me the dances, I cherished her undivided attention.

And when the slow songs started, I worshipped her body, pressing into her from behind as we swayed.

“I got us a couple’s massage for the morning,” I whispered in her ear.

She breathed in deeply, her hips never stopping in their rotation. “So I get to hear the ungodly noises you make when you get a massage?”

“You could hear those ungodly noises by other means,” I said, trying to shrug off my horny words as if they were nothing.

My favourite hobby might not be bikes anymore. It was winding her up.

She reddened and took my arm, turning to face me.

Was every move she made calculated? In her mind, did she think, ‘this is what I’d do if I loved him. This is where I’d touch him if we were together?’ Or did it come naturally?

“Is that right, Mendes?”

“Mm-hmm.” Her lips had pressed against mine earlier, but so gently, her lipstick hadn’t left a mark.

I wanted to be branded by her.

As my number was still on her ring finger.

When we returned to the hotel, they went straight to their room but we grabbed a drink to take up to ours. We didn’t speak in the lift, the tension between us crackling. If I went to take her hand, I was sure I’d feel the faint buzz of an electric current between our bodies.

She walked ahead, hips swaying in her short dress. Her key card opened the door and she sat on the bed, eyeing me up as I sat in the armchair across from her.

Beside her on the bed was my jacket with my number. She lifted it, stroking the embroidery. It should be on her back. She crossed her tanned, toned legs as she leaned back. “You’re always one away from a 69, aren’t you, Luca?”

My lips turned as I admired my temptress. She bit her lip as she brushed her hair back off her shoulders, showing her cleavage.

Tease.

“And if you raced, what would your number be?”

Her red-painted lips turned into the cockiest smile. “One, of course.”

“Ah,” I chuckled. “I was thinking more like four.”

The smile vanished. She frowned, eyes narrow. “Four?”

“Always one away from the podium,” I said casually before taking a sip of my drink. “ Just missing out on what you really want.”

“Which is what?”

“Me.”

She shook her head, a glimpse of shock on her face, an open smile making her beam as she tried to deny it. Flustered and loving it.

Flanter, as she called it.

“We both know if I wanted you, I could have you. I’d be in pole position every night, wouldn’t I? Always your number one.” Cocky smile resumed, she leaned over to the bedside table to take a swig of her drink.

I waited until she was about to swallow. “You’d be in more positions than just pole.”

Her laugh made her sound like a tasered dolphin as she struggled to get her drink down. I was enthralled. Painstakingly enamoured.

Whatever this was, for however long this was, she was mine.

And I was completely, utterly hers.

Her hair glistened in the low light as she turned to the bedside table and dialled down to the reception. They picked up nearly immediately and she asked for a bottle of champagne to be brought up to our room.

So… we were going to remain clothed, I guess.

Maybe this was her setting a boundary. We’d probably have a wall of pillows between us tonight.

“Are we celebrating?”

Her nod was enthusiastic. “Celebrating the fact that you danced and it wasn’t half bad.”

“I would hardly call it dancing,” I laughed.

She leaned forward, showing her cleavage in her little dress, the remainder of her laugh still on her face, a slanted smile. “What’s your favourite position?”

Normally? Spooning.

With her? I wanted to hold her and look at her. I wanted to make love to Everly Bacque.

“Wherever you wanted me, I’d take,” I said and realised how cringy it was immediately, but nothing could stop my stupid, babbling mouth. “If sitting with you here is all I get, that’s my new favourite position.”

Yep. Cringe.

But I wouldn’t take it back.

Because it was true.

Her smile deepened to something more mischievous. “What about me on my knees?”

“It’s been the single image trapped in my head all week,” I admitted.

I’d fisted my cock at the thought of her. I’d wanted to leave the red marks she’d smeared from her lipstick all over me, but from the action it got that night from my hand, they were already gone by the morning.

They needed to be replaced with new ones.

A never-ending smear of red on my cock.

She pulled off her boots and breathed in deeply. “Trapped in your head forever. ”

She stood, grinning at me over her shoulder as she went to pull her dress down from how it had ridden up.

“What images have been in your head before this week?”

“You’ve been in all of them, Everly,” I said and grabbed her, pulling her onto the chair with me. She squealed but it was damn music to my ears. “On all fours. On your back. On my cock. Crawling.”

“I can crawl,” she said and slipped from my hold to fall at my feet.

Her hands ran up my shins, to my knees and then further, like when I’d forced her to tease herself. “I can also lick and suck and choke.”

I palmed my cock. It was rock fucking solid.

“Teach me.”

I might not be the most intelligent guy on the block, but I knew what that meant. Teach me how to suck cock for the next man that comes along. The one I’ll love. The one that doesn’t have a split personality; isn’t happy and go-lucky in front of others and a misery behind closed doors.

But I was selfish and, as I’d said, rock hard, so I’d take it. I’d teach her anything.

I leaned back in the chair and gestured half-heartedly at my crotch. “Undo my belt, Everly.”

“Will you be rough with me?” she asked, voice laced with lust as she did as she was told and pulled the belt free.

“Yes,” I said because by the sparkle in her eyes I knew she wanted that.

She looked down at my jeans, unzipping me with a smirk she tried to smother. “Will you come down my throat?” she asked eagerly.

“Did you like how I tasted?” I asked and sat up to tilt her head so I could look her in the eyes again.

She cocked her head to the side, keeping her chin touching my thumb, pretending to consider. “It gave me a rush. I want to do it again.”

I stood and pulled down everything until my cock nearly hit her in the face.

Her lips parted, staring at my cock with a blunt inhale and then she was pushing me to sit back down and climbing the muscles of my thighs to lightly graze her hands up my length, making it twitch.

She licked her palm like a damn porn star and grabbed my shaft before licking the tip of me. The moan that escaped her nearly forced me to my knees.

“Can I just… play?” she asked, shuffling so her knees were closer together.

“Do whatever you want,” I begged. “Please.”

She could take an iron to my balls, and as long as she was having fun, I probably was too.

My pre-cum leaked from the tip she’d just licked and, with her thumb, she spread it over the entirety of the head of my cock before sucking on it hard, her tongue flicking to lap up all of the flavour.

I hadn’t seen that in any porn I’d watched and, fuck, that was good.

“I never thought I’d like it,” she said. “But the way you react has me so wet.”

If she wanted a reaction, she got one to that. I groaned at the thought of her pussy glistening, knowing I’d never seen it or, technically, felt her pussy with my fingers.

I had to.

It was killing me.

She took my length down her throat — or, tried — and I let her take her time.

She took me inch by inch, before pulling back, gasping.

I brushed her hair out of her face and she’d try again, getting further and pulling up with a suck each time, before her throat had loosened enough and she went to town on me, sucking, licking, choking, just as I’d taught her.

My balls tightened, my eyes closed, falling into the wild pleasure she exerted on me with that delicious, wet, hot mouth.

A mouth I hadn’t kissed in two months since the pit box.

Though there had been plenty of times that I’d been close. Pressing my lips to hers had felt like an instinct.

But it was against our rules.

The familiar tightening of my spine told me I was about to come, and it wasn’t from imagining her lips around my cock, but on my own mouth. The simplicity of a kiss.

I was fucked.

I tugged at her hair, pulling her back to the popping sound of her releasing me.

Her lips were wet with saliva, and there was a shocked expression on her beautiful face.

One arm hooked around her ass, the other still in her hair, I pulled her up onto my lap and pressed her forehead to rest against mine as we breathed heavily, gathering our breaths against each other.

“Did I… was there something I did—” she started to ask, worry in her voice.

“No, fuck. No, Everly. That was—perfect.”

Her breath was a laugh this time as her light touch skimmed my throat. “Good.”

But then she was moving again, rubbing her pussy against my cock. Her saliva was the best lube, making my cock brush against her wet, cotton panties easily.

“I want to fuck you, Everly Bacque,” I said and started on the zip of her dress. The guilt of saying it had passed, seeing as she’d said it turned her on. “I want to taste you.”

She moaned and brushed her lips against mine as she rode my cock. It wasn’t a kiss. Just a touch.