Deep End(80)

Except—I pull back, a hitch in my breath. “Sorry. Sorry—but you and Pen . . .”

Lukas blinks, lips stung, eyes glassy.

“Are you . . . are you two still having sex?” I swallow at his confused silence. “I know it’s not my business, and you and I—but when she called you last week, I thought . . . And Pen is sleeping with other people, and you and I are not using condoms, so—”

“Scarlett. It is your business.” His hand rises to my cheek. It always does, when he wants to make sure that my eyes won’t leave his. “Last week I helped Pen because she’s my friend, and she was stranded, and she didn’t know who else to call. But I haven’t touched her since we broke up. And I have no interest in having sex with anyone but you. Haven’t in . . . a while.”

I’m relieved in a way that I don’t want to examine. “If you change your mind . . .”

I cut off because of the way he’s slowly shaking his head. He clearly cannot fathom changing his mind, and I—can’t breathe. His firm, determined look feels so much like a promise, it sucks all the air out of me. But it doesn’t matter, because now he’s the one kissing me, and we’re back on the trodden path.

“I’m not sure that you get it, Scarlett,” he says in my ear, and it happens so quickly—one second I straddle him, the next I’m kneeling on the floor, his clothes between my knees and the linoleum. My elbows brace on the low bench, and only one person can control where and how I move.

Lukas. Behind me.

“Actually, I know you don’t.”

“I— ”

“I’m starting to suspect that you don’t understand a single fucking thing, Scarlett.”

There’s something like barely restrained fury in the icy pitch of his voice. Fear rolls into me, and I respond like a fine-tuned instrument. I’m already so wet, it’s embarrassing, and he can tell. He yanks my panties down, hands sliding under his hoodie to tighten around my waist with bruising force. The hot imprint of his cock presses against my skin through his jeans.

“Remember what you asked me earlier?”

“I don’t—” I choke out, then stop. But it’s fine, because he doesn’t want an answer. His hand wraps around my mouth and I moan against it. I can’t breathe. I feel dizzy. I want more of this.

“I walked into your room, and you looked at me, and you said . . .”

His hand loosens, and I take in a big gulp of air. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“You asked if I was there for a pity fuck,” he whispers in my ear. His anger is terrifying. “And I let it go, because while you may think I’m mean—” His thumb and index fingers find my nipple and pinch it, pushing hot liquid into my abdomen. “I’m actually nice, Scarlett. And you weren’t doing great. Now, though.” He must have unzipped, because I suddenly feel the scalding length of his cock on my lower back, in the crease of my ass. “Does this”—he rolls his hips—“feel like a pity fuck to you?”

“No.”

His hand travels around my hip bone, then lower, softly tracing just outside of my cunt. “Look at you. Soaked. I fucking love it.” He sucks a kiss into my jaw, a scrape of teeth, and then . . .

With an echoing sound, his other hand slaps against the right side of my bottom.

Lukas lets out a low, guttural grunt.

My mind goes completely blank .

“What do you do if you want me to stop, baby?”

I’m trembling. My ass cheek is hot, pain and pleasure radiating from where he hit me. He kneads the soft flesh, the fat, the muscle, and I—I thought I knew what being turned on meant, but I had no idea.

“Scarlett.” Another slap—less firm. To get my attention. “What do you do if you want me to stop?”

“I—I say stop.”

“Good girl. Should I stop?”

I shake my head like my life depends on it, wondering if I’ve ever wanted anything more. But his palm hits once again, and I cannot think, just feel, experience how good it is, the burn and the pleasure mixed together, the perverse, satisfying feeling of knowing that right now I’m as much the center of Lukas’s universe as he is of mine.

“I don’t fuck you because I pity you. But why do I fuck you, Scarlett?”

Slap.

“B-because—”

His teeth scrape against my jaw.

Slap.

A precious, first Communion kiss on my cheek.

Slap.

“You don’t know, do you?”

His hand returns to my cunt, and this time it parts me. “Christ.” His hot cock throbs against my hip, and I cannot help myself.

“Please,” I beg.

“Please, what? You could come just from this, couldn’t you? From me playing with your nipples and your ass. You want to be roughed up, don’t you?”

I nod frantically.

“Hmm.” His finger dips into my opening, and it’s so close to what I need, so close. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not until my cock is at least halfway inside you. Why do I fuck you, Scarlett?”

I don’t know. I whimper, tears flooding my eyes.

“I’m going to hurt you once more. Once more, and then I’m going to get inside you. Okay?”