Page 7 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

Everly

In the lift, we stood on opposite sides of the small space. Through the mirrors, I could see my hooded, lustful gaze roaming over him. I’d never wanted to rip off someone’s clothes so quickly.

His eyes darkened, his intentions clear as he stared at me, breathing like an animal trying to restrain himself.

I didn’t want his restraint.

We’d spent nearly two hours at the bar.

It hadn’t been enough time to cause the damage we’d planned, but hopefully, some damage would be done to my throat, breasts and pussy.

The door closed, and, alone for the first time, the air between us thickened. Neither of us went for the button. He was probably on the same floor as me, but it was his call.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and I swallowed.

“You’re old school,” I retorted. “Who calls their hook-up beautiful?”

“Me,” he said and stepped closer, his chest to mine as he pressed the button for the ninth floor with the hand holding the whiskey.

“Not hot?” I asked as he leaned down and brushed my hair behind my ear. “Fit?”

“Beautiful,” he said, his hoarse voice so loud and breathy.

“Fuck,” I muttered before grabbing his top and pulling him further down for his lips to brush mine.

“Some fun, yeah?”

“Lots of fun,” I confirmed.

He kissed me, slow and smooth, his tongue on mine, tasting like spiced whiskey as he pressed my hips into the wall. And it was euphoric. As his mouth moved to my neck and my body shuddered, the mirrors caught us from every angle—my breath stalling, his strength wrapped around me.

I knew being drunk meant I would be more confident.

But I didn’t want to forget a second of this.

He lifted me and my legs wrapped around his hips, rocking to feel his erection against me.

I’d never been kissed like it. Passion and desperation filled my mouth. The deliberate strokes of his tongue made my thighs clamp further around him, imagining that tongue elsewhere, my hips rolling against his face.

The door dinged and opened, but it didn’t stop us. The cold whiskey bottle was against my thigh as he held me to the wall, his other hand bracketing my throat. I couldn’t get close enough.

Another ding.

The doors closed again, and the whirr of the lift going down filled my fluttering stomach with the drop. Everything else was him before me.

Luca’s hand travelled down my throat to my silk dress, where he grabbed my breast, humming his approval in my mouth when he found I was without a bra. “I want to fuck these,” he grunted against my lips. “I want to cover them in my cum.”

“Yes,” I pleaded before he nipped at my lip and kissed me again.

That worked. Fuck, that was perfect.

He gripped my hips, and instead of me rocking against him, he lifted me up and down so I could feel just how hard, thick and long he was. Oh, sweet lord. My hands locked around his neck, and we both rocked me, desperate for this lift to stop and let him at me.

A throat cleared and I looked up at the worker standing at the door with a frustrated sigh. Behind her was the empty lobby.

My mouth fell open as Luca’s lips turned to my neck, where he planted kisses as he continued to rub my pussy against him.

“Luca,” I said, but he didn’t stop, only releasing an ‘mmm?’

I said his name again as I slid down his frame, straightening my short dress.

The worker cleared her throat again and Luca pursed his lips together, trying not to laugh. The woman entering and pressing the button, the doors closing again, didn’t stop him. His large hands squeezed and rubbed my ass, his lips remained on the quick pulsing of my throat.

The second the woman left with a shake of her head, Luca spun me around and ran his hand under the top of my dress.

“That was awkward,” I giggled and pressed our floor again.

“Was it?” he breathed against my lips, brushing my hair back. “I was focused on other things.”

“Like?”

“Like seeing how wet I can get you before we’re even in my room,” he said and dragged a finger over my panties. I shivered, my breath catching. “I’m going for very. I’m going for soaked.”

I laughed and reached to kiss him again. “You’re nearly there.”

“Nearly?” he chortled. Walking me back into the wall again, eyes on mine, he said, “Damn. I’ll have to try harder.”

His hands on my waist, his mouth on mine—I hardly noticed him walking me backwards until the door clicked open behind me.

His hand tangled in my hair as the other flicked on the lights of his hotel room.

We both groaned as we were blinded, so used to the darkly lit corridors.

The second he turned them off, we were back to grabbing each other, but he tried again, slapping the wall to find a different switch.

He managed to get the low lights on either side of the bed.

“I need to see you because you look so good in this,” he murmured, brushing off the strap of my dress before going for the other as we fell onto the bed. “Because I need to remember this.”

My dress didn’t fall because my chest was against his, trapping my clothing between us. With my arms around his neck, I was grinding on his leg, desperate for some friction where my body pounded for touch.

It was a violent need.

A brutal desire.

“You want to ride my knee?” he chuckled in my ear. “You can ride my fucking anything. Face, cock, fingers, thighs. Take my bike too.”

My body stilled.

I wanted his cock.

Even though I didn’t know him. Even though I definitely didn’t deserve him.

The pain of my realisation broke through the lustful haze that was Luca Mendes and the growing anticipation between us.

This wasn’t the plan. The trailers were.

But I couldn’t leave now.

“No penetration,” I told him. The boundary needed to be clear. Before I lost myself in him completely and let him see all of me. “Not… not past my underwear.”

He nodded, uncaring. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” His lips were back to my throat as his hands gripped my ass, pulling me onto him. “Are you a virgin?”

My laugh was a strong burst, breaking all the worry that was low in my stomach. “No,” I said, almost offended. Was I really acting that inexperienced? “I lost my virginity as a teenager, like everyone else.”

“Nuh-uh,” he groaned, pulling at my earlobe with his teeth and making me moan. “I was twenty.”

He was twenty-five now. From the brushes of his hands and the swipes of his tongue, he seemed like he’d been breaking hearts forever.

“No penetration,” he agreed. “You make the rules, Everly Bacque.”

There were very few thoughts in my head as his thumb travelled down my underwear, pressing my panties to my slick pussy.

I didn’t want him to think I was opposed to him fucking me. Or that he’d done anything wrong.

“I’ve never had a one-night stand,” I spluttered. “I’ve only had sex with one person.”

Only one person had seen my naked body, psoriasis and all.

There was silence apart from my pounding heart and pussy. She wasn’t able to keep up with my brain because Luca Mendes still looked like that. Even worse than he had downstairs with his tousled hair.

But his startled blink was adorable as his head inched back. “Really?”

“It’s been four years since I’ve… since we broke up…” I said, cringing deep into the marrow of my bones.

“Four?” he asked, voice higher in shock.

“Yeah and I don’t really know what I’m doing,” I admitted, the drinks downstairs the only reason I could speak the truth.

“You don’t have to do anything. You don’t need to explain yourself,” he said, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, dragging me up with him. “If you don’t want anything tonight, we won’t.”

“I… I just…”

His light touch danced high up on my thigh. “It’s okay. Whatever you’re happy with.”

“But… I…” I couldn’t speak, apparently. “I want more.”

He studied me, eyes narrowed. “For four years, you’ve only used your hand to come?”

I rolled my eyes, shuffling closer to his chest and running my finger down his collar bone through his top. “Not just my hand. They make these things now called sex toys. They even vibrate. Better than any dick.”

He cocked a brow. “I could prove that theory wrong.”

Of course, he thought he could. I wanted him to.

“Use your hand, Everly,” he said and took it from his neck to where he’d played with my leg.

“What?”

“Use your hand,” he repeated and kissed down my neck, casting a shiver down my spine to where he wanted my hands to work. “I won’t touch you. You don’t have to touch me. But I bet you’re bored of using those pretty little fingers and only thinking of a dwindling four-year-old memory.”

My teeth tugged my bottom lip into my mouth. I had been getting into a habit of rubbing one out in a minute or two and it had become somewhat… normal. Boring. Completely and utterly mild.

“You said you hadn’t had fun in a long time,” he said with a wicked grin. “Maybe it’s because things have become a little dull for you. I’m not dull.”

That was true.

The man didn’t know how to be anything but enthralling.

“And you’ll do what? Describe what I’m doing? And get off on it too?”

He nodded deeply. “Exactly.”

It would be different. It would undoubtedly make me come, the thought of him watching and touching himself.

And… it would mean we hadn’t had sex.

Sex sex anyway.

“You think a lot of your mouth,” I sighed.

“My mouth is very talented.”

I tried not to laugh, my lips pursed as the blush burned my cheeks, but a little giggle escaped me, reminding me of just how much we’d had to drink downstairs.

I was already so wet for him. He must have felt it through my panties.

“Show me.” I gestured to him. “Tell me what to do.”

He stood and went to the chair by the desk, spinning it round to face me directly. “The middle of the bed.”

I scrambled to get into position, sitting on my knees, legs parted — wanting to put a show on for him.

“With the very tips of your fingers, caress your lower thigh. No higher than an inch above your knee.”

“Sounds frigid,” I quipped.

“Sounds like you’re arguing, Everly,” he retorted.

My fingertips grazed above my knee.

“Small circular motions, not too fast—slowly, slowly…”