Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) Evie Mitchell (romantic novels in english .txt) 📖

He let me slide down his body, his grin wide. “Home?”

I nodded. “But you need to pack up, right?”

“The guys can do it. They owe me.” He pressed another hot kiss to my mouth, handing me his phone. “Order an Uber. We’re leaving.”

In the back of the car we groped, kisses hot and hard as the poor driver tried to ignore our grasping desperation. Arriving at the house, Luc tossed him a fifty on the way out, yelling, “Sorry, dude. Five stars for you!”

Laughing, I pressed the code to the high fence, permitting us access. Inside, Luc chased me up the drive, snagging me near the front door, pressing me into the brick wall, kisses landing on my lips, my cheeks, my neck.

“Inside,” I whispered hoarsely, unable to bear this. “I want…”

He pulled me into him, turning me his back to the door. He flicked the pin on the lock-pad, pressing his thumb to the scanner as he nibbled my collarbone. The door clicked and we tumbled through, hands pulling at clothing, running over bare skin. His shirt dropped near the door, my shoes in the hall. We tumbled through the lounge, socks coming off, his jeans removed, my hair tie flicking across the room.

“This shirt,” he growled, “drove me crazy all night.”

Well, thank you, Addie.

He bent his head, delving into the deep V. He made a sound of pure delight as his beard dragged along my sensitive flesh.

Yep, I was officially dead. I’d officially died and gone to heaven because once upon a time I’d been utterly convinced there was no way Lucien Falco would ever or was ever going to take me to bed. But here we were. This was happening. THIS WAS HAPPENING.

I am dead. The only possible explanation is that I died the night I was shot. This moment is my afterlife reward. I don’t even care that this isn’t real. You hear that?

I DON’T EVEN CARE!

As we walked, stumbled, and fumbled our way to the bedroom− his bedroom −he finally came up for air, ripping the shirt from my body. In the doorway of his bedroom he stopped, staring at me in the new bra and jeans.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” His voice felt like a physical caress.

I flushed, hands hovering, uncertain. He returned to me, helping remove my jeans as we tripped towards the bed. Literally tripped– his floor was littered with clothes.

“You.” I pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Need.” Another kiss. “To clean your room.”

He laughed, pulling me hard against him. “Never.”

Pantless, shirtless, we both fell onto the mattress, hands roaming, mouths searching as we teased.

His long, hard body pressed deliciously against me. His cock sat heavy against my inner thigh as we rolled around the bed, each grasping to be on top. I didn’t mind when he finally won, his weight pinning me as he feasted on my mouth, his hands cupping my breasts. My bra disappeared leaving me in the boy-cut underwear.

He withdrew, pressing one last kiss to my nipple.

“You ready?” Luc asked, our gaze meeting as he stroked my cheek.

“Yeah.” My hands were already on his briefs. Slowly, I pushed them down as he rose. I managed to get them to his lower thighs before he took over, quickly shedding them, his cock now free.

I took a moment to admire the fact I had done this. He was hard, and it was all because of me.

I reached out a hand, but he swatted it away, smiling. “Nope, not till I see you.”

Uh-oh. Moment of truth. It was his turn to undress me. Slowly, he peeled my underwear down, revealing a part of me I hadn’t thought I would ever let another person see.

When I lived in Melbourne, my housemate had given me a vibrator. He and his boyfriend had sat me down and explained that while they knew I didn’t want to date, selfcare was incredibly important. I’d never gotten up the guts to try it. For me, sexual desire had always had a rottenness about it. My childhood and my rape hadn’t prepared me for the actuality of healthy sexuality.

Luc was helping. It didn’t mean I had no hang ups, just that I was trying with someone I trusted. When I’d been by myself, I’d often found it difficult to imagine anything but that night. With Luc, he distracted me with wicked words and delicious lips, replacing the bad memories with moments so utterly perfect I had no choice but to hoard them on my soul.

As he threw my underwear across the room, I had a moment to consider if I wanted this. He was moving slow, no matter how fast and passionate this felt, he took each escalation slowly. Drawing it out. Letting me lead.

He dropped back down, this time beside me, one hand propping up his head, the other reaching out to trace soft circles around my breasts.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“For the uncertainty to leave.” He bent down, sliding his nose against mine, lips gently pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We don’t have to do anything. I’m happy with this.”

Oh crap.

Yep.

There it was.

I love you.

I opened my mouth before shutting it tight. God. He was such a good guy.

How did one tell their partner they were ready for sexy time? Did you say, I want your penis in me? Was there some kind of phallic-shaped bat symbol I could use? Why had no one invented mood-ring contact lenses?

I rolled towards him, tired of the distance between us. My hand immediately went to his cock, grasping it. His response was more than gratifying.

The groan, the kisses, the needy sucking of my breasts as he showed me how to stroke him.

He worked his way down my body, breaking my grip on his cock as he nipped, kissed, sucked, and licked his way down. I raised up on elbows, eyes wide.

“Relax.” He winked before his mouth closed over me.

Tongue.

Hot.

Shit.

Fuck.

OH.

MY.

GOD.

He worked my clit, licking and sucking as I shuddered under him, incoherent. I clutched his—

Wait, is that