Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

his hair? Oh God, who cares? Just don’t let him stop—

“Fuck,” I groaned.

He curled a finger into me, rumbling a sound of pleasure.

“Tight,” he told me as his finger coaxed a response. “Do you like this?”

“More,” I demanded, pushing his head back down. His laughter brushed against me as he licked, his tongue doing wonderfully erotic things to sensitive parts of me.

“Like that!” I moaned, feeling it build, reaching, panting. He shifted his finger, just a fraction, and that was it. I tipped over the edge. My body squeezed around his finger as my whole reason for existing became this feeling. This wonderful, pleasure-pain.

I found myself panting, a sweaty, swearing, magnificently glorious mess. Luc hovered, one hand stroking my side as he watched.

“Hey.” I offered him a shy grin.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“What?”

“You’re so beautiful. Perfect.” He replied. I felt his cock jump against my leg.

“You’re pretty beautiful, yourself.” I reached down grasping him. He huffed out a chuckle-groan.

“God. You’re–”

“Ready,” I interrupted, pulling him towards me. “So, damn ready.”

“Shit,” he whispered, halting his movement. “Condom.”

I let him go, watching as he rolled it on. He returned to me, just as hot and hard.

His cock nudged my entrance as he slowly eased in, the vein in his neck pulsing. His blue eyes raked my face, waiting, watching, making sure I enjoyed it.

I loved how he filled me, moved in me. I loved how his weight pressed into me. My fingers raked up his back as he thrust, his growly voice whispering praises and curses, muttering filthy sentences as he drove into me.

“Come for me,” he demanded, one hand reaching down to finger my clit. He rolled his finger once, twice, and I came, hard, wet and full, my body clenching around him.

We collapsed. A wet, sticky, panting mess. He made a move to roll off, but I clasped him, arms and legs tight around his body.

“No,” I mumbled into his shoulder. “Stay.”

He did, pressing kisses to my neck as we cooled.

The night was cold, true winter having arrived. Finally, chilled, and too tired to stay awake much longer, we separated. I went to tidy up, he disposed of the condom and secured the house. We met back in the bed.

“Good?” he asked, pulling me into him.

“Yeah.” I grinned into the darkness. “Really good.”

His chuckled quietly. “I’m glad.”

I smiled, curling into his side. He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer “Me too.” I hesitated, then gave in, admitting my deepest fear. “I was worried I’d freeze.”

“Were you thinking about it?”

“No. You successfully distracted me.”

We both chuckled. His fingers lazily caressed my shoulder.

“Thank you for putting in the effort.”

“Beautiful, you are not effort.”

“Still.” I lifted a shoulder, shrugging. “You never rushed me. And I know you wanted to.”

“I’ve been hard for months,” he admitted.

I dropped my hand to his stomach, fingers inching further down. “I mean, do you need me to…?”

He laughed, halting my wandering by knitting our fingers together and resting our hands on his stomach.

“We can go all night another time. This is your first, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Sleep. I promise, you can use my body to your heart’s content tomorrow.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“Dear God, I’ve unleashed a monster.”

I slapped a hand to his chest, grinning. “Maybe.”

“Night, Keys.”

“Night, Luc.”

Chapter Forty

Emmie

Luc delivered on his promise. I woke with a mouth on my breasts, and it deteriorated– or perhaps improved? –from there.

We stayed in bed, devouring each other, ravenous in our need. Luc finally pulled me out of bed in the early afternoon, laughing at my protests.

“I need food. You need food. We need to eat, hydrate, gain sustenance,” he told me between kisses.

“Boo.” I pouted, pressing myself into him. “Just once more?”

“No.” He smacked my butt, laughing at my squeak. “Shower, dress, then food. Besides, I need to go to the shops. My family’s coming.”

I froze on the way to the bathroom. “Sorry?”

“Tonight. My parents are coming. And my siblings. And their partners. And the kids. It’s my weekend.”

I turned, horror dawning. “Your weekend?”

“Family dinner. We do it once a month. Tonight’s my turn.” He was checking his phone, eyes on the screen. If he’d been looking at me he’d have seen the abject terror on my face.

“Here? They’re coming here?”

“Yeah. ’Bout seven.”

I spun, running to the bathroom and locking myself in.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Shit.

I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror, hyperventilating.

“Em? Keys?” The door handle twisted as Luc tried to enter. “You okay?”

“Fine!” I squeaked, lying through my teeth. “Just going to shower.”

There was a beat of silence before Luc answered. “Okay… We’ll talk after.”

I showered, shaved, and washed my hair three times. I spent fifteen minutes wrapped in a towel, as I decided whether to leave the safety of the bathroom. Finally ready, I exited, returning to the bedroom to dress. I found Luc in the kitchen cooking.

“Hey.” He set the tongs aside, flipping a dishtowel over his shoulder as he leaned across the laminate breakfast counter to greet me with a kiss. “Okay?”

I returned the kiss, then slid onto one of his chipped bar stools. “Sure.”

One of the things I liked most about Luc was his willingness to tackle a project. He wasn’t afraid of hard work or getting his hands dirty.

Mm. Luc’s hands.

The kitchen was old, run down, and in need of a complete overhaul. The house had been a wreck, worn and worried from years of neglect by a hoarder. Luc was slowly bringing it back to life, turning it into a home that reflected his personality.

“When are you redoing the kitchen?” I took the offered mug, my stomach rumbling as the bacon sizzled in the pan.

“I’m taking a week in September. Gonna smash out the removal and build the cabinets. The benchtops will be longer because they’re stone.”

I ran my hand over the cracked lime green laminate. “You should do a wood feature for this island. Or maybe concrete. If you’re keeping it.”

“Good idea. I’ll show you the