Page 166 of Lucas

I part my lips, and he feeds himself into my mouth, thrusting shallowly at first, then deeper, faster, his control slipping.

I love how I can make him lose control like this. That I have this power over him.

Drool trickles from the corners of my stretched mouth as he hits the back of my throat, but I don’t care. I’m drunk on his pleasure, his desire.

Fumbling a hand between my legs, I rub tight circles over my aching clit, chasing my release.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous like this,” he rasps. “Lips stretched around my cock, taking me so deep in your sweet heat. I’m close, Ava. So close.”

Humming, I add a bit of suction, and he comes with a hoarse shout, spurting the salty bitter cum over my tongue.

I pull off and swallow it all down, licking my lips.

“Christ, woman, what are you doing to me?” he pants, looking down at me in awe.

I arch a brow. “What you’re about to do to me.”

A wicked smirk curls his lips as he pushes me flat and buries his head between my thighs, determined to give as good as he got.

Minutes later, I’m sprawled in his arms, my body still trembling with aftershocks. “I could get used to this,” I mumble.

He kisses my damp temple. “That’s the plan. I’m going to spoil you so rotten you’ll never think about leaving again.”

Rolling over, I snuggle into his broad chest, soothed bythe steady thump of his heartbeat. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Valeur.”

The ring of his phone interrupts our playful banter. He tenses but makes no move to untangle our limbs.

It rings again, more insistent.

I prop myself up on an elbow. “You should get that. Could be important.”

“More important than basking with my gorgeous wife? Not bloody likely,” he scoffs, but there’s an edge to his voice now.

On the third ring, he swears under his breath and rolls away, snatching the phone off the nightstand. “What?”

I watch as the color drains from his face, his expression morphing into one of shock and horror. An icy tendril of dread unfurls in my stomach.

“Lucas? What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up.

He grips the phone so hard I fear it might shatter, knuckles white as bone. When he speaks, his voice trembles.

“It’s Cora. She’s been attacked. Beaten and mugged right on the damn street. She’s in a hospital.”