Consumed(24)

“I’m not going to come in you unless it’s safe,” he promises against the crook of my neck. He strokes my clit once, twice. Without warning, he lifts his hips, easing his cock into the warmth of my body bit by bit, slowly filling me. It’s agonizing. And it’s bliss. Dragging my fingernails across his shoulders, I pull him all the way in, clenching myself around him. He shudders and mutters a curse. “I’ll pull out if you say the word.”

His hands are gripping my ass now, moving my body back and forth, up and down. The sensation is so dizzying that it takes me a moment to clear my head enough to realize what he’s asking.

“The shot,” I gasp as he buries himself deep inside of me. “Last time was a month ago. I never skip.”

“Fuck, that’s good to hear,” he growls.

He leans back against the steps, and I follow suit, pressing my face against the tattoos on his chest as I rock my hips against him.

“Look at me,” he says. When I don’t, shaking my head because the feeling of him has officially f*cked with my head, he gives my ass a hard smack. “Look at me, Sienna.”

I lift my head and stare him in the eye. “Happy? Do you see what you do—” My breath catches, and his lips move into a grin. He understands. He knows exactly what he does to me.

He circles his thumb urgently around my clit, causing my whole body to throb, and I cry out. “I want to watch you when you come. I want you to look at me when I come in you,” he says.

“Please,” I whisper, though I’m not sure what I’m begging for. He’s giving me everything that I want right now, everything my body craves. “God, Lucas . . .”

He moves faster, harder, his free hand making rough contact with my ass once more when I squeeze my eyes together. “Let me see you,” he repeats, and I nod, sweat-dampened strands of my red hair falling into his face.

“I want to—” I begin, but then the orgasm comes. It doesn’t build slowly so that I have enough time to warn him. It rips through me, making me clench my teeth as my body tightens around his. I keep my eyes trained on his as the waves of pleasure send a painful shudder through my body. He releases a low growl, and I feel him let go. It’s a first for me, but I’m sure he already knows that, too.

Afterward, as we lay against each other at the bottom of his staircase, breathing heavily with the sweat from our bodies intermingling, he finally says that we’re going upstairs.





After he reintroduces me to his vivid black and red bedroom upstairs, and as promised, to his kitchen where he actually cooks for me, Lucas takes me to his music room. Just like the “piano room” from the house in Nashville, this room is on the bottom level of the house. But with its butter-yellow walls and light hardwood floors, it’s a complete 180 from the sexy, dark décor in the rest of the house.

While he sits strumming his guitar on the couch, I pace around the room, studying the collection of guitars—acoustic and electric—hanging on the walls.

“Kylie’s idea,” he says as I run my fingertips along the smooth surface of a Fender. It boasts a signature across its sleek body that I can’t quite make out, not even when I trace my fingertip along the sloppy scrawl. He changes the key of the song he’s playing. “I would have just left the damn walls bare. And I would’ve left them painted black, but I’ve got to let her win sometimes.”

“I like her ideas. Do the brighter colors help you write?”

“Good inspiration helps me write.” He winks, and I feel my skin begin to warm up. “The walls are just there.”

I make my way over to the piano, and automatically, my gaze zeroes in on the notebook on top of it. Lucas’s lyrics. As I absentmindedly tap out a few keys—which ends up sounding like the opening of “You’re So Vain”—I can’t quite pull my eyes away from the notebook.

The Gibson squeaks loudly, and a moment later, I feel Lucas’s body against my backside. I flatten my fingers on the piano keys, not caring that they make an awful screech. “You’re welcome to look through it. You’re welcome to everything I have. I want you to know that, Sienna.”

“I feel like I’m invading your privacy,” I say. He brushes his lips over my temple, back and forth, moving the tiniest strand of hair across my skin in the process. “Even if you do tell me I’m allowed.”

Still, I can’t help thinking about his ex and the hold she has over him. I can’t help the part of me that doesn’t buy into Lucas promising me that I have all of him. How can I when there’s still so much about this man that’s still so secretive?