Big badd wolf, p.18
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       Big Badd Wolf, p.18

         Part #7 of Badd Brothers series by Jasinda Wilder
 
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  She broke the kiss. "I'm hot," she muttered.

  She pushed me away and sat up, unzipping her hoodie and tossing it aside. She had a sweater on under that, which she also took off. Unlacing her boots, she toed them off, along with a pair of thick wool socks. Then, with a shy glance at me, she lay back on the bed, unzipped her jeans and lifted her hips to work the denim off, revealing a pair of leggings. Barefoot now, and dressed in a long-sleeve T-shirt and the leggings, she remained on the bed, staring up at me. Her gaze was inquisitive, open, and full of desire.

  "Lucian...is...are we..." She sighed, searching for the right word. "What are we? What is this?"

  I kicked off my boots and socks too, and thought about how to answer. "A thing."

  "We're a thing?"

  I nodded. "It's what I want, at least. And I've been hoping you do, too."

  "But...what's a thing? What does that mean?"

  I shrugged. "It's you and me, together."

  "Together?"

  I nodded. "Meaning, I want you. I want us."

  "Us," Joss echoed. "I want us, too."

  My relief was so palpable and visceral I sagged, exhaling shakily. "You do?"

  She nodded, tearfully. "I do. I really do."

  "Here? With my whole crazy family?"

  "I love them. They're...you're so lucky to have them, Lucian. I've never felt so accepted, so welcomed." She stared up at me, tears in her eyes. "You changed my life the day you rescued me, Lucian."

  "You changed me that day, too," I said. "I was talking to Brock while you were sleeping, and he said you bring me to life. And I think I agree."

  She smiled tentatively. "You make me feel like...like life can be more. More than what it has been, and more than what I've ever allowed myself to dream it could be."

  "I don't know if photography is going to be my thing, but you made me realize that I have to...I have to live. I have to find what makes me excited."

  "Is photography that, do you think?"

  I nodded. "I really think it could be."

  Joss's smile was happy, but the flickering spark of need was dancing in her eyes. "Did we just agree that we're together, Lucian?"

  "I think we did, Joss."

  She lay on the bed, thick black dreadlocks draped on the pillow around her face, staring up at me. "Kiss me, Lucian." She ran her hands across my shoulders. "And this time...don't stop."

  14

  Joss

  * * *

  He didn't stop. He kissed me, and this time I threw myself into it. I opened myself to it. I knew there was...more...coming after the kissing, and I welcomed it with an admittedly not-small amount of trepidation, but I knew Lucian wouldn't rush me through it. I wanted this. I wanted to kiss him and let the kiss morph into the next thing, and the next, and let Lucian guide me where I knew I wanted to go, but was afraid of getting to.

  He kissed me, and he began letting his hands wander. I lay beneath him, welcoming the hard heavy weight of his strong body above me, and the touch of darkness was gone, the shreds of reminders that had assailed me last time were gone. The memory was there, I knew what had happened and would never forget it, but I also knew Lucian wasn't him. This wasn't that. This was new, and beautiful, and I deeply, desperately wanted it.

  I shook with want for it.

  I trembled with desire. His hands skated under my T-shirt over my belly, and I lost my breath for the ache of anticipation of his touch on my flesh. When his palm skated over my bra, I murmured with appreciation. And when he traced beneath the underwire and around to the edges of the cups, I bit down on his lip and sighed. He laughed, and tugged the straps down. I arched my back, pushing my breast into his hand as he cupped me over the bra, and then, while my spine was arched, he reached up under me and freed the clasps.

  I pushed him away, sat up, my eyes hot on his, and ripped off my shirt and threw the bra away, breathing hard with the ache of desire, shaking all over. I was topless in front of him, and my breasts swayed and lifted with my ragged breathing. My nipples puckered into hard thick points under his hungry gaze.

  "Joss...Jesus--you are so fucking perfect." His voice was ragged, breaking. "So beautiful."

  He reached out a hand, his fingers trembling. I bit my lip and held my breath as his palm made contact with my breast, and then I arched into his touch, moaning as his calluses scraped rough against my sensitive nipples.

  "Your tits, Joss--they're..."

  I sagged back to the mattress, his touch following, his hand caressing my breast. "What, Luce? What are they? Tell me."

  "Your tits are so perfect they make me crazy."

  "My tits make you crazy?" I wasn't sure who was in control of my mouth, but I liked her; this was the free, unburdened, unafraid Joss who could and would do and say anything, everything. "Crazy how?"

  "Crazy like I want to..." He pressed his lips to my stomach. "I want to kiss them, and lick them, and worship them."

  I arched my back and brought his face between my tits. "Please, Luce. Show me."

  He fastened his lips around my nipple, and his tongue flicked the hard nub until I gasped, and then he moved to the other one and did the same, and his thumb caressed the damp, erect flesh his mouth had just left. I moaned as he worshipped my breasts with his mouth, and his hands. I cupped his head and arched into his touch and gloried in how wanted and beautiful and safe I felt under his attention.

  He lifted up, gazing at me. "Joss...god. You're so responsive."

  "You make me feel things I didn't know were possible." I feathered my fingers through his hair, possessive, and affectionate. "I love your long hair. Don't cut it, okay?"

  "I don't plan on it." He reached up and toyed with the end of one of my dreadlocks. "I love these."

  "Oh, don't worry, those aren't going anywhere." I stroked one. "They remind me of my dad. He had dreads, too. Longer than mine, and thicker. I was thirteen when he took me to get these done."

  Lucian smiled, and then his gaze went serious. "Joss, I--I love a lot more about you than just your dreadlocks."

  My breath caught. "You do?"

  He nodded. "I'm falling in love with you." He breathed a sharp sigh after the words emerged, head hanging momentarily, as if saying them had been a terrifying act of bravery. "I have been, since...since the moment you looked up at me as I was carrying you up here."

  I felt myself melting. "Lucian...I'm--me too." I owed him more than that; I swallowed hard, sucked in a deep breath, understanding for myself now why it had appeared so difficult for Lucian to say this. "I'm falling in love with you, too."

  "Would you...think less of me," Lucian said, each word hesitant, "if I admitted that falling in love with you is fucking scary?"

  I reached up and wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled him down to me into a fierce embrace, burying my nose in the side of his throat. "No, Lucian. It's scary for me too. I don't think less of you. More, if anything."

  We were skin to skin from the waist up, bare together, pressed together. I clung to him, and we breathed together, and I felt his heart hammering in his chest, like mine was. I pulled my face away, and he lifted up. Our eyes met, and the desire I saw in his gaze, all for me, melted me and set me on fire all at once.

  A hunger for him ignited. I wanted to feel his skin under my hands. I wanted to hear him moan. I wanted to feel him touch me, and I wanted to know what his release looked like.

  I brushed the pad of my thumb across his lips. "Luce...can I...can we take this a step at a time?"

  "Of course, Joss. I don't want to rush you. I don't want to rush this. I want it to be perfect."

  I smiled up at him. "It is perfect." I rubbed my palm over his chest. "I just, I want you to know that I want this, that I want more, but I just...I want to go slow. I want to remember it. I want to savor it. I'm not going to stop us this time, I just..."

  He touched my lips. "You don't have to explain, Joss. I'm all in, however you want, whatever you want. It's all for you."

  I smiled at him. "
No, Luce, it's all for us."

  "The pace we take is all about you, is what I mean."

  I just breathed and gazed up at him, desire pooling inside me, courage building. I knew what I wanted, but convincing myself to just ask for it was almost as difficult as convincing myself to call Dru had been. I caressed his shoulders, his back, my heartbeat quickening as I traced my fingertips around the waist of his jeans from the small of his back to the fly, where I paused.

  "I was hoping we could start over where we left off?" I whispered.

  He smirked. "I'm hoping you don't mean me with a broken nose and you crying."

  "Don't make fun of me," I murmured, frowning even as I fought a smile. "It's really hard for me to ask for things."

  He lost all levity instantly. "I wasn't making fun, Joss, just teasing. We can do whatever you want."

  I closed my eyes and breathed. "Sorry, I just--I guess my sense of humor might need work, huh?"

  He laughed. "Yeah, mine too. That probably wasn't very funny."

  "Don't stop teasing me, okay? Your whole family makes fun of each other all the time, and you all have so much fun with it. Even when...even before Mom and Dad died, we weren't like that. Dad was always very serious, and Mom was quiet as a mouse, and they always treated me, even as a little girl, like a miniature adult. They spoke to me like they would one of their friends. They didn't tease, not each other, or me."

  Luce frowned. "Damn, babe, that sounds...miserable."

  I laughed. "It wasn't, though. It was what I knew. We were serious and quiet. It was just the three of us, and we were just comfortable with each other in long silences."

  Luce nodded. "I can definitely see how we might be somewhat overwhelming to someone with your background."

  "It's like living in a circus," I said, laughing. "Or in a sitcom."

  Lucian flopped to his back on the mattress, laughing. "Or a sitcom about a circus." He snickered. "Does that make Bast the ringleader? The twins would definitely be the clowns."

  I rolled toward Lucian, my breasts draping against his chest, my fingers trailing down his torso from diaphragm to navel. "Can we go back to my original statement?"

  Humor drained out of him, replaced by molten desire. "About picking up where we left off?"

  "Before I panicked and ran away like a coward."

  He reached up and palmed my cheek. "Don't, Joss. You ran because you were scared and overwhelmed and upset. And I didn't handle the situation right. I should have been more understanding, should have understood better why you were so hesitant." His eyes didn't leave mine, and the sincerity I saw there was breathtaking, putting a hot lump of throbbing emotion in my throat. "That situation is past, Joss. It's over. You're here, now."

  "We're here, now," I whispered.

  "Exactly." He ran a hand down the outside of my arm, and then to my bare waist; I leaned away from his body to allow him access to my breasts. "Where was it, precisely, you wanted to pick up?"

  "Well..." I breathed out shakily, and reached for the fly of his jeans, unsnapping the button and then slowly lowering the zipper. "I would have to start here."

  His nostrils flared and he sucked in a sharp breath. "I see."

  I paused, after I had his fly open, took his hand in mine and pressed his palm against my breast. "Don't stop touching me, Lucian. Please. Your touch gives me courage."

  "You need courage?"

  I nodded. "I'm terrified right now."

  "You don't have to be scared, Joss. This all about what you want."

  I exhaled tremulously as he rubbed a gentle thumb over my hardening nipple. "I am scared, but I want this. I want to touch you, but I'm still...just nervous."

  "And me touching you like this," he said, caressing my breast, lifting its significant weight in his palm, "gives you courage to touch me the way you want to but are nervous about?"

  I nodded. "Exactly."

  He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, and then to my throat, and the valley where my breasts sloped away. "Then I shall give you all the courage you need."

  "How noble of you, kind sir."

  "I live but to please, fair maiden."

  I laughed. "Well, funny enough, I am a maiden, in the historical sense." I stopped laughing as his mouth found my nipple. "Oh...oh god...I love the way your mouth feels on my breasts. Don't stop." I held his head in place against me, as his mouth worked my nipple to a throbbing, aching point. "But I won't be a maiden for much longer, will I?"

  "That's up to you, Joss," he murmured, the words huffing against my skin. "This all happens on your timetable."

  "And if my timetable for today is just...touching...you'd be okay with that?" I asked, watching his reaction carefully.

  He glanced up at me, sensing the weight in the words. "Absolutely, Joss. No rush. Whatever you want."

  I watched as his hands toyed with my tits, caressing and palming, pinching my nipples, exploring them, hefting their weight. "How can you be so patient? You've touched me, made me orgasm. I--I haven't done anything for you at all. And I always thought that would give you...like, blue balls or something."

  Lucian met my eyes. "Joss..." he sighed. "In a sense, yes. I want everything with you. And there is a part of me that's desperate to get there with you. And yes, I want you to touch me. I want to feel that with you. Your touch, it's...it's amazing. It's perfect. It makes me a little dizzy, to be honest, because it feels better than anything I could have imagined was possible."

  "Lucian, don't flatter me or try to make me feel better about things. Just tell the truth."

  He stared at me levelly for a moment. "The truth?"

  I nodded. "The truth, Luce. Don't be tactful, don't be all understanding. Am I irritating you with my up and down and back and forth and all that? Because even now, we're still talking because I'm scared and nervous."

  "Okay, real talk--just plain honesty? Yeah. I get worked up and then things cool off. I'm horny as hell, and I want you. I'm dying to rip your leggings off and bury my face in your pussy." He kept his eyes on mine as he said this, his voice a low growl. "I'm dying to feel your hand on my cock again."

  I swallowed hard. "Luce--I--"

  "I'm not done. You wanted the truth, here it is." He tugged on one of my dreadlocks, his eyes burning into mine, his voice a lupine snarl. "I'm dying to bury my cock inside you, Joss. I need to feel you come apart around me. Watch you come as I fuck you senseless. Watch you take such pleasure from me as you could never have even imagined was possible."

  "Oh...oh my..."I shook all over. "That sounds...nice."

  He smirked at me. "I want all that. I need that."

  "I want to give it to you. I want it with you."

  "Then take it, Joss." He threaded our fingers together and brought our hands to his stomach. "Take what you want. I'm here for you. I'm here with you. And yeah, I want all that, but more than anything, I want this to be right, for you. You only get one first time, Joss, and I want yours to be perfect. If you're choosing me out of everyone in the whole world to share this with, I'm willing to wait and be as patient as I have to be, to give you a perfect experience. So if that means a mild case of blue balls as you summon the courage to take what you want, it's a small price to pay."

  He cupped my tits, both of them at once.

  "And besides," he said. "Just getting to put my hands on these incredible, perfect tits of yours is a gift all in itself."

  I gasped as he brushed a thumb against my nipple. "They're so sensitive. I feel like I could almost reach orgasm just from that."

  "Then let's see if that's possible."

  I shook my head. "No, wait."

  His hands fell away immediately, and I levered over him, pressed our palms together, leaned in, and kissed him until we were both breathless.

  "First, a kiss," I whispered, "For courage."

  "And then?" he whispered back.

  I slid down so I was kneeling beside his hips. His fly was open, revealing an expanse of black cotton, stretched around a thick ridge. "And
then..." I swallowed hard. "Just be patient with me."

  He tucked his hands behind his head. "We have all the time in the world, Joss."

  I smiled, and then caught my lower lip in my teeth as I turned my attention to him. To the open fly of his jeans, and the hard column behind the black cotton. I traced a fingertip down it, from where the top bulged against the elastic waistband of his underwear down to where it vanished behind denim and the teeth of the open zipper. I watched him as I did this, watched the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. I hooked my fingers in the back pockets of his jeans and tugged them down--Lucian lifted up, allowing me to draw them off and toss them off the bed. His thick, muscular thighs bunched as he flexed every muscle in his body and then forced himself to relax. His underwear were boxer-briefs, plain black. His erection was a massive tentpole against the stretchy cotton, now that he wasn't constricted by the denim. I ran my palms up his thighs, past his hips, to his stomach, exploring his washboard abs, and then hesitating at his navel. I swallowed hard, bit my lip, and felt an eager, nervous, silly grin spreading across my face.

  He met my grin with one of his own, hands folded behind his head, lying there waiting, patient, but clearly anticipating what I was about to do.

  My grin spread until my cheeks ached, my heart hammering. I had a mental flashback to when I'd last touched him--I'd been too caught up in the moment to memorize what he looked like, too caught up in the wonder and fervor of the moment.

  This time...this time would be different.

  I held my breath, and then curled my fingers inside the elastic. Lucian's belly sucked in and tightened as my knuckles brushed against the very top of him. I slowly pulled the elastic away from his body and tugged the undergarment downward. He flexed his hips to lift his butt off the mattress, and I ran my fingers around to his butt, scraping my nails against the hard bulge of muscle as I removed his underwear, tugging it down and down until the elastic waistband was cinched around his thighs. A swift tug, one of his legs lifting free, and then the black cotton was dropping off of his toes to the floor at the foot of his bed, and he was bare, completely naked, exposed to my gaze. I raked my eyes over his body eagerly, greedily, soaking up the masculine hardness of his physique, the broad shoulders and thick pecs, the washboard abs, the way his torso tapered to a narrow waist. Those sharp V-shaped lines angling from his abdomen to his groin.

 
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