Things We Left Behind: Chapter 23

I’m Not Done with You Yet


Hold your damn horses. I’m coming.”

The irritated voice on the other side of the door did nothing to calm me. She was here. She was fine. Which meant she’d snuck out on me like I was some shameful one-­night stand that she didn’t want sticking around for breakfast.

Sloane Walton was about to learn a very serious lesson.

The front door swung open, and I enjoyed the flicker of shock on her pretty face. She was wearing a robe. Her hair was damp and her face free of last night’s makeup. She looked young and fresh…and nervous.

Had she tried to wash away what we’d done like it had never happened?

I hadn’t. I woke to a bed full of pillows and no Sloane. Five minutes later, I was in the car.

I slapped a hand to the open door in case she thought about shutting it in my face.

“What are you doing here? Did I leave something—­”

“I’m not done with you yet.” I’d fucked her into the early hours of the morning until neither one of us could move. Then I’d fallen asleep with her back pressed to my front, my face in her hair, and slept like the dead. When I woke, there was one clear thought in my head.

Sloane wasn’t out of my system.

“Excuse me?” Her squeak was indignant and accompanied by a dangerous narrowing of the eyes as she took immediate offense.

We were both poised to fight. However, our bodies seemed to have different ideas. One second, I was standing on her I’m Probably Reading welcome mat; the next, I was crossing the threshold and hitching her up with one hand on her curvy, little ass. She wrapped her legs around my hips and speared her fingers into my hair, pulling my head down to hers.

Her mouth found mine, and a bolt of relief sliced through me.

She still wanted me.

That was all that mattered. One more time. That was what we needed. Then it would be out of our systems.

I kicked the door closed and spun around to press her against the wall. A picture frame tilted, then smashed to the floor.

“Sorry,” I muttered against her mouth and whirled us away from the wall. I needed to find a place to pin her down, hold her still. To make her stay.

But she was already frantically working the buttons of my shirt free, and I knew there was no chance in hell that I was going to make it upstairs to her bedroom. I dragged her robe open and threw it on the floor. Underneath, she was wearing one of those lacy bra tops that did nothing to hide the pucker of her nipples from my ravenous gaze.

I’d barely registered the small, purple bruise just above her nipple when she shoved a hand between us and found my belt buckle with a triumphant cry.

God, I wanted her. I craved her hands on me, her pleading whimpers of “please” and “more” in my ear. I needed to be inside her again.

I stumbled into the family room, bumping an end table and knocking over a lamp in my haste. The shade popped off and fell to the floor.

“It’s fine. I hate that lamp,” Sloane said against my mouth as she went to work on my fly.

I kicked the coffee table out of the way, spilling a pile of paperbacks onto the floor. My shins finally met an appropriate flat surface. The couch.

We landed like a felled tree with me barely managing to cushion our fall. Her hands abandoned my zipper and gripped my shirt. Something hissed, and a flash of gray and white fur darted over the cushion onto the console table behind the couch.

I didn’t care if it was a cat, a rat, or a possum. Nothing was more important than stripping Sloane naked.

My tongue plundered while I shoved the waistband of her underwear down her legs. Her frame was so small and delicate, yet her curves were tantalizing. That smooth ivory skin begged for my hands to cruise, to stroke, to nip.

I buried one hand in that beautiful fucking hair and sent the other diving between her legs. Decadently wet. I’d touched her sixty seconds ago, and her pussy was already ready for me. My cock gave another convulsive twitch, and I felt a hot burst of moisture flow from the tip.

We were making a mistake. I knew it. But I couldn’t stop myself.

She whimpered against my mouth and gripped my hair with one hand while the other one tried to shove my shirt off my shoulder.

I wanted to go slower this time. But anger and desire had blended into an adrenaline-­fueled cocktail in my blood.

“You’d better have a condom somewhere on your body,” she said, nipping at my lower lip.

On a growl, I reared up and reached for my wallet in my pants pocket.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathed when I yanked the foil packet free and tossed the wallet in the direction of the coffee table.

She shoved my pants down to my thighs as I shredded the foil. I was on my knees between her legs, and she was spread out under me like a sacrifice.

“This is the last time,” I said as much for my own benefit as hers.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted as I took my throbbing dick in one hand. Sloane snatched the condom from me and rolled it on, gliding it down my erection.

“So impatient,” I said on a groan.

My vision started to go dark when she gripped me at the root and squeezed. “Last time,” she repeated. “Might as well get it over with.”

I was going to ruin her for all future partners. That was my new goal in life.

I snatched at the spaghetti straps of her top, dragging them down her shoulders, trying to restrain myself from breaking the delicate threads. Then, with one swift yank, I bared the breasts that I knew would haunt my dreams forever.

“Now, Lucian. Now! Please, baby,” she demanded.

I couldn’t have stopped myself even if I’d wanted to. Not after knowing what awaited me between her legs.

I guided my swollen crown to her glistening entrance, notched it into place, and with one mean thrust, I embedded myself inside her.

She screamed and I let out a guttural yell.

I hadn’t prepared her for it. I hadn’t softened up her sex with foreplay and teasing. I’d battered my way in. And now she was holding me in a grip so tight it stole my breath.

“Breathe, baby,” I said through gritted teeth. “You need to relax.” If she didn’t, I was going to humiliate myself.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and jade-­green eyes stared up at me. “Don’t hold back on me,” she said.

I pressed my lips to her throat. “You have to relax. Make room for me, Pixie.”

“I hate how you feel so fucking good.”

It nearly made me smile through the agony of holding still.

I pulled out a few inches, reveling in the slick, wet slide of her flesh against mine. “You’ll hate it even more when you have all of me.”

She hitched her thighs higher around my waist and squeezed.

Her groan was an exquisite torture to my ears. “Here I thought Lucian Rollins just took what he wanted.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I reminded her.

“Then please me,” she demanded. With that, she reached around me and sank her nails into my ass cheeks.


I thrust into her, going deeper this time, gripping her hips so she couldn’t wiggle away from me.

“God, yes.”

“Almost,” I rasped.

“More. All of it. Please,” Sloane begged.

I pulled out almost to the tip and then I drove back in on a vicious upthrust. Her tight muscles fought against my invasion for an agonizing moment, and then something gave way and that final inch slid home.

It was ecstasy. I’d fucked my way into heaven again. She held me in a tight, wet clutch better than anything I’d ever experienced. Despite last night’s debauchery, my balls felt so full they ached. My ass was clenched tight, ready to fuck. My entire body was rigid with the desire to move.

I managed to pry my eyes open to take it all in.

I had her pinned to the couch. Her legs spasmed restlessly around my hips. I could feel the soft buds of her nipples as they played against my chest hair. I wanted to taste them again. I wanted to taste her again. I wanted to bury myself in her until I didn’t want her anymore.

“Are you good?” It came out as an angry growl.

“So good. So fucking good,” she whimpered.

It was all I needed to hear.

“You shouldn’t have left me,” I said, sliding out, clenching my teeth at the delicate drag of her muscles. Her body had fought my entrance, and now it was fighting to keep me inside.

I punctuated the accusation with several hard thrusts. Those full, round breasts bounced every time I bottomed out inside her.

“We could have been doing this in a bed,” I chastised.

“Your couch performance is adequate,” she panted.

“You made me drive all the way here just to take you and your sweet pussy again,” I growled.

“Nobody asked you to waste the gas.” Her inner walls fluttered around me. My little librarian liked it when I talked dirty.

I ducked my head to lick over one nipple, then the other. She shivered under me and arched her back, putting her breasts on display for me.

I fucked into her again and again, using my foot to push off the floor to gain as much leverage as possible.

“Yes! More. Harder,” she chanted.

It was like she was begging me to break her.

“God, I hate that you’re so good at this,” she moaned.

“Shut up and take my cock like a good girl,” I ordered.

That was all it took. I felt her orgasm slam into her. It was familiar to me now. I knew I would never forget how it felt to have Sloane Walton fall apart on my cock.

Those slick, tight inner walls clamped down on my aching erection as I impaled her on it. My vision went black as her pussy milked my shaft with an explosion of ripples. I hated the latex that separated us. I hated that last barrier between us with a passion, as if it was keeping me from something I’d waited for my entire life.

I held deep and buried my face in her neck, hand gripping her hair, and willed myself not to come even as she writhed under me, undulated around me.

This was the last time. And I still hadn’t had enough.

“Please don’t come yet,” she sobbed as she bucked under me, using my body to shamelessly ride out her release.

“Why?” The question was harsh. My balls were so full, so tight. I needed release.

“I want more,” she confessed.

“Goddammit,” I muttered. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead and back as I fought for control. As I pushed my need down. I held there, sheathed to the hilt, as her tremors finally gentled to delicate squeezes.

She was clung to me like I was her salvation. Her entire body vibrated from the orgasm.

“Do you still want more?” I growled.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“Then ask nicely.”

Her unpainted lips curved in a knowing, female smirk. Her muscles clamped reflexively around my throbbing dick. Yes, Sloane Walton liked dirty talk.

“Please fuck me so hard and deep that I have to think about you and that magnificent cock every time I sit down at work tomorrow.”

I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw. I wanted that. Wanted to know she’d be thinking about me, remembering how I’d made her feel.

I pulled out of her, the pout of her full lower lip making my dick ache.

“Hey!” she complained.

But she stopped abruptly when I manhandled her to the edge of the cushion. Wanting to feel her skin against mine, I shrugged out of my shirt and tossed her legs over my shoulders.

“Oh God.” It was a whimper that ended in a muffled squeak when I dragged my tongue through her slick folds. She tasted like secrets and truth, and I was instantaneously addicted.

Her thighs trembled on either side of my ears.

“Open,” I ordered, teasing her with the tips of two fingers.

“Lucian,” she begged.

“Baby, open for me. Let me taste you.”

Her eager compliance went straight to my head and my aching dick. She relaxed her thighs, letting her knees fall open on my shoulders.

Apparently the only way I could get Sloane Walton to do what I wanted was by keeping her on the brink of orgasm.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she hissed. She had her hands over her eyes so she didn’t see the fiendish smile as I pushed my fingers inside her. Her body responded immediately, heels digging into my back, thighs tensing, smooth stomach tightening. Those perfect, full breasts hitched as her bare lips formed an enticing O.

“Relax,” I urged, crooking my fingers in her wet channel.

A soft cry escaped her, and the tension slowly began to leave her legs again.

I took the opportunity offered and dove between her legs. My tongue laved the hard bud of her clitoris as I pumped my fingers into her precious little cunt.

She’d gone rigid again, but it didn’t matter, because I had access to everything I needed. I plundered with my mouth, stroking and teasing her while I worked my fingers in and out. She was writhing beneath me, her nails digging into my biceps as I held her still.

I couldn’t get enough of her flavor. I wanted to taste her as she came. I wanted to sample the flavor of her surrender.

“Come for me,” I growled against her sex.

She let out a whimper and squirmed against my grip. “I don’t want this to be over.”

She didn’t know what she was saying. She didn’t mean it, I told myself. I’d just pushed her past the point where she could comfortably insult me while I fucked her. I’d pushed us both too far.

“What are you saying?” I demanded without slowing the rhythm of my fingers.

“Wh-­what if I don’t want it to be the last time?”

Something big and bright lodged itself in my chest. “Then I’ll just keep making you come until we’re tired of it.” I didn’t know if it was a promise or a threat, but I meant it.

“Are you just saying that? Are you fucking with me right now?”

“I’m not fucking with you. I’m fucking you,” I pointed out.

Her hands fisted against the cushion. “Oh God, I can’t fight it.”

“Don’t you dare fucking fight it.” To ensure she couldn’t, I added a third finger to her tight sheath and spread the lips of her sex with my opposite hand. My tongue found her swollen clit with laser-­like precision.

She screamed my name as her body tensed. My balls tightened and my cock jutted out as the pressure built to painful heights. And then she was coming, her beautiful body using my mouth and fingers to steal every ounce of pleasure she craved. She came apart on me, and I could taste the glory of her release.

I wanted her to say my name again. I wanted to hear that broken hitch in her husky voice.

But she went limp under me as if her body were melting wax.

“You okay?” I asked, hovering over her.

“Nope. Never be okay again.”

“Baby.” I gave her a little shake.

She opened one mischievous green eye and arched her eyebrow. “My turn.”

I had to give her credit for taking me by surprise. She had her hand on my erection before I realized she wasn’t about to faint.

It was so sudden I almost came in her hand.

I gripped her wrist and could feel the pulse of my own cock. “No,” I said.

“You went down on me twice now. I get to go down on you,” she insisted.

“No,” I said again.

“Why not?” Her hand tightened wickedly on my shaft.

To distract her and give myself what I needed, I turned her around and placed her on her knees on the floor in front of the couch. “Because you’re going to be too busy getting fucked,” I told her as I pushed her head and shoulders down flat on the cushion. I knelt behind her, spread her legs, and adjusted her hips until the crown of my cock was aligned with her weeping sex.

Just the barest brushes of that hot, tight little heaven that awaited me had me reaching for every iota of control.

“Please, Lucian!”

There it was. My name from her lips. Begging me to give her something only I could. I bucked forward, seating my entire shaft to the root inside her in one thrust.

Her scream was muffled by the cushion. I ran my hands up her spine, over her shoulders, and down her arms while I waited to regain control.

“Hang on tight, baby,” I warned.

I eased out and then used her hips to fuck my way back into her.

Her pussy convulsed around me when I hit that secret spot. Jesus, how could she be ready to come again? Her body was a fucking miracle. My fucking miracle.

I slid my palms up to cup the heavy weight of her tits and used them for leverage as I began to thrust.

I squeezed those full, perfect breasts as I fucked into her tight, wet pussy.

“Oh my God,” she chanted.

She was ready to come. All she needed was a little bit of pressure in exactly the right spot. I fucking loved being in charge of her pleasure. Deciding when and how. It was headier than any other achievement of my entire life.

I folded over her, adding my weight to her back and thrusting harder, deeper. I released one breast and brought that hand between her legs.

She went rigid under me. “Lucian, I—­”

“Such a good girl,” I praised. “You’re so wet for my cock, aren’t you?”

“What I want is that magical dick of yours in my mouth,” she said, sounding adorably disgruntled.

I found her clit just as I gave her nipple a hard tug and buried my cock to the hilt, angling my hips up, up, up. She could do nothing but take what I was giving her, and it went to my head, my balls, my fucking heart.

“Come for me, Pix. Come on my cock so hard it hurts.”

“Yes, Lucian. Yes,” she cried brokenly.

Music to my fucking ears. And then she did exactly as I told her.

This time, when she fell apart, convulsing around my shaft, I didn’t fight the overwhelming urge to let go. I let her quivering pussy pull my release from me. I ejaculated fiercely, a scorching burst that I wished she could feel. Even as the next hot rope of come wrenched free and the next, I thought about how it would feel if there were no barriers between us.

“Lucian!” She squirmed against me, coming again, or still, as if my pleasure triggered her own.

“That’s my good girl,” I said as I emptied myself into her, imagining a life where she was mine and I was hers.


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