He tilts the glass, draining it slowly. I watch his slightly scruffed Adam’s Apple bob with the motion and find myself somehow unable to even breathe until he’s finished.

He licks the last drop from his lower lip, and my knees literally go weak. I thought shit like that only happened in the movies. Feeling like this seems almost unreal.

The fire in his belly seems to have lit him from the inside out, and he regards me closely with a molten look that causes a searing sensation on my skin.

He steps closer, and I expect him to stop—but then he doesn’t.

My chest rises and falls rapidly, mimicking the pace of his stride.

He moves nearer and nearer and nearer. He doesn’t stop until he is toe-to-toe with me.

He twists the glass within his hands. “That’s what you do with the finer things in life. You savor them.”

He laughs softly, placing a hand below my jaw. “And I can’t lie to you, Elena—you are one of the finest things that I’ve ever seen in this life.”

He brings his lips to mine.

“And you deserve to be savored.”

He pushes his lips down onto mine, and I moan from the (finally!) released tension that leaves my body at his kiss.

His taste is strong and sweet, an intoxicating mixture of the liquor and the fruit that’s on his tongue.

I can feel the small pricks from the stubble on his face, and each sweep across my skin is like an electric charge that turns me further and further on.

His lips are as soft as I’d imagined and they angle insistently over mine—pushing and pulling, giving me everything that I need and then taking it away with each breath.

I suck hungrily at his lower lip, as he bites erotically down on mine, and in the midst of the licking, sucking and biting, we are performing a tango with our mouths—dancing the two together only to break away briefly and come back even stronger.

It is the best fucking kiss of my life.

And then something happens. A shattering crash that pulls me from the depths of desire.

The glass that Lukas had held has slipped from his hand and smashed directly on the floor beside us.

It is exactly what I need. We break from the kiss, staring down at the obliterated glass and then each other.

“I have to go,” I blurt abruptly. “It’s been over half an hour, and I have to get back.”

The party. I had almost forgotten it in my Lukas-laced dream world.

I pull my back straight, regaining some semblance of composure.

“Thank you for the drink.”

Lukas squints at me curiously, and I think he’s going to protest—but then he doesn’t. He concedes, nodding once at me.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Lexington.”

I turn at the sound of my name, taking quick steps to reach the door before I can reconsider.

I can’t do this. I can’t be this woman.

I can’t lie with what may be the sexiest, and most frustrating, man that I have ever met… even though it nearly pains me not to.

But at least, I did it. I looked temptation right in the face and resisted.

I deserve a cookie for it, at least, right? Maybe cake. That’s right. The cupcakes…

I’ll take a thousand of them.

I reach the elevators, pressing the button and waiting not even a single second before the doors open.

I hop inside, leaning haggardly against the wall, literally drained from the intensity of my internal battle.

The doors start to close, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, a hand shoots out between the doors, and they start to jolt apart. When they open, I discover Lukas on the other side, his eyes harried, his jacket open.

He looks directly into my face.

“One more thing, Elena…” he breathes.

I perk up.

“Yes?”

And then he grabs me.

All Bets are Off

 

In chess, as in life, opportunity strikes but once.  -  David Bronstein

 

 

LUKAS

I don’t know that I can be friends with her.

I don’t even know that I can stand another twenty-four hours without wanting to stick a fucking pen in my eye at the sound of her name.

But I do know this…

I want to fuck the shit out of her. Now. At this very moment.

And right now, that is all that fucking matters to me.

I reach out toward Elena, grabbing her waist and dragging her right into me. The cry that she gives is soft, and I can’t tell if it’s out of surprise or protest, but it comes out muffled as I crush my mouth to hers.

She stills for a split second and then responds almost immediately. Her kiss is eager and anxious and irresistible.

I reach down, hiking her dress to her upper thighs so that I can scoop her into my arms and carry her outside of the elevator and into the hallway.

Her high heels drop one-by-one as I make my way out, and I press her lithe body against the wall, using my hands to cup her delectable ass while she tightens her legs around my waist.

The slender straps of her dress slide down her delicate shoulders and I kiss the skin where they just were, taking voracious bites as my mouth moves down towards her cleavage.

I press my tongue between her breasts and listen to her moan as I pull one perky tit from underneath the dress and slip one reddened, taut nipple into my impatient mouth.

Her legs are out, her breasts are exposed and I am two seconds away from ripping off her panties, as we go at it in the hallway of the hotel—a mere multiple doors down from my own room.

At any given moment, anyone could catch us here in this hallway…

And I do not give one single damn.

The strained groans of the word “Inside” are all that stop me, and at this simple request from Elena’s lips, I sweep her into my arms, reconnecting my lips with hers as I carry her to my doorway and quickly inside.

I don’t even remember getting the door open, but as soon as we’re in, I am placing her down on my bedroom sheets, trapping her between my legs and lavishing attention on each beautiful breast, as I take my turns with one and then the other.

She writhes on the bed with need, and I use her motion to slip her completely out of her dress, marveling at the perfection that is her soft, creamy body.

She is warm and fragrant. Not just with that vanilla scent from earlier, but the smell of her ache, her pleading.

I can smell the sex on her skin.

Her pussy is completely bare, and I love the view that I get when I open her legs. I can practically see the pulse in it. I dip a finger in its confines so that I can feel it as well.

Her grinding never stops, and she sways her hips back and forth on the bed so that her entrance tightens and closes around my digit.

I keep prodding, keep swirling, and her sighs turn into groans. I decide that one finger is not enough; she needs my tongue—my mouth.

I lick her slit slowly from end to end, taking my time to savor her taste. Contrary to all the bullshit about flowers and pineapples, she tastes like neither, the flavor more appetizing than either of those palates could ever be.

The taste is more brackish than those, the flavor hinting of a muted tang. The taste of pussy. It tastes like nothing else in this world.

And though it isn’t often on my menu, when I place it there, I devour it very well, giving it all the proper courtesy and sampling of any delicious meal.

And I just so happen to love the way that Elena tastes.

“Please,” she pleads. “Lukas, please.”

I replace my mouth with two fingers, speaking the words over her clit. “Please what, Elena? What?”