The Probability of Violet and Luke(18)

“Fuck,” he utters, then he’s leaning forward and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he just rests his forehead against mine. He breathes raggedly, in and out, in and out, his solid chest crashing into my breasts. I wait for him to touch me, but he doesn’t. Wait for him to do something, but he doesn’t. He’s motionless, like he’s giving me the chance to leave. I should. Just walk around him and go out the door. Never look back. But having him this close to me causes intense memories to flood my body, reminds me that being touched by a guy doesn’t have to feel wrong or dirty. That it can feel right. It did once with Luke and I selfishly want it again.

Suppressed emotions, alcohol, and a hunger I’ve never felt before possess me and suddenly I’m crashing my lips against his. He sucks in a startled breath, slanting back slightly as if to pull away, but then in a snap of a finger he’s grabbing me by the hips and yanking me against him as he seals his mouth to mine. The heat of him… the taste of him… it’s so potent… so wrong… so right… so confusing.

“I can stop,” he whispers against my mouth, his tongue parting my lips, his hand cupping the back of my head and tangling through my hair. He taste like Vodka and cherries and smells like cigarettes and cologne. Delicious and dangerous, for many different reasons.

I wonder if he actually would stop if I told him to. I don’t want to find out though. Not right now. So I arch my back into him and press my chest to his, while I delve deeper into the kiss, running my fingers along his scruffy jawline, being gentle where the bruise is. I’m remembering everything that went on between us… God, do I remember… and it feels so amazingly, blissfully good. Each graze of his lips and brush of his fingers feels like it’s erasing every unwanted touch over the last couple of months as if Luke has erasing super abilities.

His hands find my hips, his fingernails digging into my flesh as he forces me closer while he backs up, without breaking the kiss. He’s moving us somewhere… to the countertop. He leans me back, the edge digging into my back, before he picks me up and sets me down on it, positioning himself between my legs and our hips grind together.

“Oh my God….” I let out a porn star moan, but am completely unashamed as I try to rip off his shirt, but it doesn’t work like it does in the movies and I end up just stretching it out.

He lets out a soft chuckle at my failed attempt, but the noise gets caught in his throat. “You taste so much better than I remember,” he says in a husky voice before sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, deliberately, causing a slow burn to build inside me that only amplifies when his hands wander up the front of my thighs and underneath my dress. Needing to touch more of him, I sneak my fingers up the front of his shirt and feel the lean muscles flex beneath my hands. His breath falters as if I’m driving him mad. It’s different, somehow, from the last time we were together, like he’s gotten more vulnerable.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he says, between kisses as his fingers graze the edge of my panties, his movements rough and sloppy, built by desperation.

Suddenly I’m reminded why we haven’t touched each other in two months, and what I’ve been doing with Preston for two months, and why I should pull back. If I was a good person, I would. I’d put my parents above my horniness and just tell Luke what I let Preston do to me, how I let him touch me. I know it would get him to stop, but I guess I’m not a good person. Never really have been. And the adrenaline pulsating through my body, instilled by Luke’s touch and kisses, isn’t helping either.

Keeping my thoughts to myself, I slant against the mirror behind me, surprising him at first as out lips disconnect. His eyelids lift open and he’s worried that I’m stopping this, but I grab the front of his shirt and draw him to me until our lips reunite. Then we kiss each other deeply, our tongues entangled, his fingers slipping into my panties and inside me and I bite down on his lip as his touch brings me pleasure not pain and shame like I thought it would, like Preston’s does.

At one point, Luke leans back slightly, watching me as I get lost, drifting away from the reality that I wake up hating every day, while holding onto him, moments later falling apart in his arms. There’s a pause as the haze and heat leave my body and mind and I can tell he thinks I’m going to bail—I can see it in his eyes. I have no intentions on doing so and I slant forward to kiss him again. But right as our lips brush, we’re interrupted by a knock on the door.