Consumed(23)

“Fuck patience—I’ll just have to try it again later. I just need you.” His fingers continue to nudge my jeans down my legs. “I’ve thought about nothing but you and this since you sent me that picture. You’ve worked your way into my goddamn head, into my soul and everything else.” He draws away from me for a moment to finish pushing my pants down around my ankles.

“Into your head, huh?”

Confirming my question with a slow nod, he kisses my left kneecap, and then the other before standing back up. “I’ve pictured every way I can enjoy your body, and believe me, there will be many. Don’t think that being on that tour bus will stop any of those.” The way he says this—in that growl he uses whenever he sings—sends electricity prickling through every vein of my body.

“Your poor band mates,” I tease breathlessly.

“I want you right here, Sienna—on top of me, bent over, beneath me. I want you in my bed and in my kitchen and in the f*cking bathroom, but first, I want you here.”

I step out of my jeans, kicking off my shoes in the process. “You’re right.” I’m not ashamed to admit that I want this, too. “Screw the bedroom.”

Keeping our bodies pressed together, he spins us around until his back is facing the steps. I follow him as he undresses quickly—each step slow, each breath I take heavier with anticipation—until he stops right in front of the stairs. His expression is something that’s soft—that hurts my chest—as he eases down on the second step from the bottom.

“Get over here.” He tugs me to him using the first thing his hand makes contact with—my panties. As I slide down in front of him, he cups my face between his hands. “I want you to use your mouth,” he says.

“You get right to the point.”

“Always.”

He wraps my fingers around his cock, squeezing and moving my closed hand up and down his shaft until he’s rock hard. When I bow my head to circle the tip of my tongue slowly around his crown, my hair goes everywhere—against the sides of my face, in his lap, on either side of his thighs. He strokes the nape of my neck, his touch encouraging, so I lick him once more. And again, when he mutters a sharp curse.

“Don’t tease.” His voice is 75 percent commanding, the other 25 percent pleading.

I wrap my lips around his erection, keeping my gaze focused on his hazel eyes as I move my mouth and fingers from the head of his cock to the base, taking him completely into my mouth.

“Ah, shit, Sienna.” His voice is full of surprise as the fingers on my neck move up to tangle into my hair. “Do that again.”

My “yes” is nothing more than a little moan that causes a vibration against his flesh. I drag my mouth back up his length, running the hard tip of my tongue along it, and then draw him deep into my mouth again.

I don’t want to lose this moment, to lose him, but when I start to repeat, he stops me by tugging roughly on my red hair. “Put your hands down flat.” His tone is dangerously low. “No hands. Just that beautiful mouth of yours.”

His words send a shiver through me, but I nod, my mouth bobbing against his cock in the process. I splay my palms flat on the bottom step, my movements slow and a little exaggerated, earning a slow smile from Lucas.

“You beautiful, intoxicating woman.” He guides my head as far as it will go and he’s pressing against the back of my throat. We both release a broken moan, seconds apart. “What are you doing to me? It’s so good. You’re so f*cking good.”

Whatever it is that I’m doing to him, he’s done to me times two. Because as I use my tongue and mouth to drive him to the point of breaking—and as he stares down at me with one of those looks that twists the pit of my stomach into a million and one knots—I feel like I’m the first woman he’s ever stared at. The first woman to do this to him. The first woman for him, period.

“You were f*cking made for me, Si.” This time, after my tongue traces a path up his cock, he draws all the way back, releasing his hold on my hair. “I’m going to f*ck you.” His breath is coming out in uneven bursts but so is mine.

“Upstairs?” I ask, but he moves his head from side to side.

I barely have time to react before he guides me to my feet. I’m shaking as he hooks his hands behind my knees, urging me to him. I nearly lose my breath when he guides my legs on either side of his body. And as he pulls me down, his thumb gliding beneath my panties to shove the damp scrap of fabric at the juncture of my thighs to the side, I cry out. Because I’m not sure what to do with my hands—my brain is putty right now—I dig my fingers into his taut shoulders while his thick erection presses against me.