Real Fake Love (Copper Valley Fireballs #2)(80)

My eyes cross.

I gasp in sheer pleasure.

His thumb finds my clit as he pushes two fingers inside me, crooks them just right, and I’m suddenly coming so hard and fast that fireworks explode behind my eyelids and my legs go numb and I scream his name while I double-fist his cock and hang on for dear life, riding the sensations rocketing through me.

I need more.

I don’t know if I can take more, but I need more.

I need all of him.

Tonight.

Tomorrow.

Every day.

My legs go numb.

His fingers are still deep inside me, coaxing my orgasm longer while my clit pulses in undiluted pleasure and he pants heavy against my shoulder and his hard-on twitches in my hands like me getting off is going to send him over the edge.

“Inside—me,” I order.

I’m not bossy. Not usually.

But if I don’t have Luca right now, this fairy tale is going to fall apart and I’ll never have him again, and I’m not ready to be done with him.

I’m not ready to be done with the way his brows crease like I’m a little nutty but he likes it when I’m talking about my characters. I’m not ready to be done with listening to his rhythmic breathing deep in the middle of the night when I jolt awake and don’t remember where I am until I hear him, and then know I’m safe.

I’m not ready to be done with a man who thinks to ask what my cat wants to wear today, or who sends me lunch randomly in the middle of the day when he knows I’m writing and might have forgotten to eat, or who has an electric tea kettle delivered to his house even though he doesn’t drink tea, but because he knows I do and that there’s a better way to make tea than by heating water in an ancient microwave or in a rusty tea kettle.

He says he doesn’t do love, but love is in the little things.

And Luca Rossi’s little things mean more to me than any engagement ring ever has.

“You’re so damn sexy,” he growls as he turns me against the shower wall and lifts me.

“I’m a raspberry shaped like a woman.”

“You’re you.”

My legs go around his hips, mostly because he helps me get them there, because I still can’t feel them post-climax, and he pauses. “Does this hurt?”

“Being empty hurts.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck, Henri.” And then he’s driving inside me, with the cool shower wall against my back and his hot, hard body against my breasts, and his long, thick cock stroking me deep inside, hitting that secret, magic spot over and over, pumping hard and fast while I grip his shoulders and rock my hips against his, feeling that glorious coil spiraling tighter with every thrust, his tip teasing me right where I love it most while he pants my name, tells me I’m beautiful, that I feel so incredible around his cock, that he could drown in my sweet pussy, until I’m falling over the edge again.

I don’t know my name.

I don’t know what planet I’m on.

I don’t know if time and space exist.

All I know is the blinding hot passion that’s turning my body into a massive flaming ball of euphoria as Luca strains into me, groaning out my name as his cock twitches out his release while my orgasm rips through me.

My legs shoot straight out.

My toes curl.

My stomach drops and my nipples tingle with so much pleasure that I almost can’t stand it.

I love riding Luca’s cock.

My body has never, ever felt so sated.

Until this moment, I’ve always been the caterpillar.

But loving Luca has turned me into the butterfly.

Tears touch my eyeballs, and I let them fall as Luca sags against me. “Henri? Ah, baby. You’re crying.”

I suck in a shuddery breath that I feel in every cell of my body, but especially in the cells still cradling Luca’s cock. “Sometimes joy leaks out my eyeballs.”

He shifts until he’s holding me, dropping soft kisses to my neck and shoulder. “So that was good?”

“The utter best.”

He kisses my shoulder again. “Thank god. I thought Dogzilla was giving me the you’re doing it wrong look.”

I blink my eyes open, and then start laughing, which makes Luca suck in a breath as his cock twitches inside me.

My cat’s in the shower with us.

She loves showers. It’s a thing.

But right now, we’re getting a heavy dose of stink-eye from Dogzilla, which makes me laugh harder.

“There’s my happy girl,” Luca murmurs.

Happy?

Yes.

Definitely happy.

I don’t know how long it will last, but for this moment, I’m happy.





31





Luca



Cuddling isn’t my thing, but I spend the entire night wanting to wrap myself around Henri.

I don’t—I’m too worried I’ll irritate the allergic rash that she insists will go away in a few days—but I want to.

It’s an odd sensation.

So is the relief that comes when she rolls over in the middle of the night, finds me watching her, and then straddles me for another round of sex.

I refuse to think about what it might mean that she’s embedded herself so firmly in my life, and how much I like it, because if I think about it, I’ll start thinking I can offer her things that I’ve never thought I could offer any woman ever again. That I shouldn’t offer any woman ever again.