He did not rush the bed.
He stood at the foot of it and looked at me like he was taking inventory of something he had already decided to wreck. My shirt was on the floor. My knees were open. I could feel how wet I was against his sheets, how obvious. Down the hall Elara’s music thumped through the wall—some bright stupid song she always played while she texted her girlfriend—and the fact that she was that close made my cunt clench around nothing.
Lucas’s jaw ticked once.
“You don’t make a sound,” he said, “unless I tell you that you can. Or unless that mouth is wrapped around my c**k. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded.
He put one knee on the mattress. The bed dipped. His hand came down beside my hip, then the other, caging me in without touching me yet. Water from the shower still clun
