Drunk on Love(94)

He pushed the rest of the robe off her shoulders and played with her nipples again. He loved how responsive her body was to him, how as soon as he took her nipples between his fingers or into his mouth, he could feel her whole body quiver.

“I will happily be your excuse to buy as many robes as you want,” he said. “I will appreciate every single one of them.” He ran his hands along her thighs, up her stomach, back to her breasts. “And I will appreciate you, inside—and outside—of them.”

He stood up and pulled her up with him.

“Come with me.”

She followed him into her bedroom. He’d loved that room from the first time he’d walked inside of it, on his quest for condoms when he’d seen her very intriguing bottom drawer. But he loved it for more reasons than that. The huge, comfortable bed; the crisp, hotel-like bedding; the dark walls; all this made it seem like a refuge. From the first time he’d entered it, he’d wanted to stay there with Margot, for a whole day, just in bed with her, around her, sleeping and having sex and talking and sleeping some more and having more sex, from sunup to sundown. Maybe now that the party was over, and that things with Elliot were better, it could happen.

He kissed her. She pulled his body against hers immediately. She was so soft and warm and strong. He loved the feeling of her body against his, her lips on his, her skin under his lips, his tongue.

“Lie down.”

She lay down on her bed and smiled up at him. He loved that she didn’t cover herself up, but just lay there, blissfully, perfectly naked, so he could look at her. He dropped his pants to the floor.

“I love the way you look at me,” she said, staring back at him. “It’s . . . It makes me feel so good.”

He pulled his shirt off.

“Margot Noble, do you have any idea what you do to me? What you’ve always done to me, since the very beginning?”

Were those tears he saw in her eyes? It was dark in here; he couldn’t really tell.

“I . . .”

He knelt on the bed above her, so he could still look down at her.

“Apparently, I need to do a better job of showing you.”

He kissed her neck, the hollow between her breasts, her arms, her belly, and up and down her thighs. He could feel her straining for him. He knew she wanted him to kiss her lips, her breasts, between her legs, but he wanted to draw this out, make her feel this everywhere. He licked her neck and moved down and down, very slowly, until right before he reached her pussy, and then he stopped and moved down more. She let out a little frustrated huff, and he laughed softly.

“You are such an asshole,” she said.

“I know,” he said.

Finally, he let his tongue dance around her entrance, and she opened wider for him. He licked her clit once, and she sighed, and then he looked up.

“Oh, is that what you wanted?”

He could feel her smile as one of her hands left his shoulder and pushed at his head. He laughed as he moved to where she wanted him.

He didn’t tease her anymore. He slid a finger inside of her, and then two, as his tongue went to work, pushing her to her limits, and she moaned and sighed underneath him. He fucking loved this. The way she let herself go with him; the way she was always so formal and professional and businesslike with everyone, but how he could make her fall apart like this; the way he knew exactly when she was starting to get there by how her body would respond to him, how she would get quieter, not louder, how she would let out those tiny gasps, how her fingertips would dig into his shoulders, his arms, his scalp. He moved faster, and she moved faster along with him, and then he felt her whole body spasm. He kept pushing her, kept sucking her, kept touching and rubbing her in that same way as she thrashed against his hand and his mouth, and then finally went limp underneath him.

“Holy fuck, Luke.” Her eyes barely opened as he scrambled for a condom.

Normally he waited for a little while until she had a chance to recover more, but he was so hard, so turned on after that, after touching her and listening to her and making her come, that he didn’t want to wait.

“Margot—”

She must have heard the urgency in his voice, because she reached for him.

“Yes. Now.”

He barely got the condom on before he thrust himself into her. She cried out, and he made himself stop, but she squeezed his ass.

“No. Don’t stop.”

So he did it again, harder, and she wrapped her legs around him. He slammed himself into her, again and again, and she met him, thrust for thrust, until he felt her start to quiver again. He tried to hold back, to give her time. But she arched up to meet him, and whispered in his ear.

“Harder.”

That whisper pushed him over the edge, and he exploded inside of her.

He collapsed on top of her, and kissed her hair, her cheek, her lips.

“That was incredible,” he said. “You are incredible.”

She laughed against him.

“We are incredible.”





Twenty-Three


MARGOT WOKE UP THE next morning with a jolt. It was too bright outside. She should be at the winery already to get ready for the party. Why hadn’t her alarm gone off?

And then she heard Luke’s even breathing next to her and woke up all the way.

The party was over. Many things had gone wrong, but many things had also gone right. She was here with Luke. She could stop thinking, stop worrying, at least for a little while.