Fill Me (13 page)

I nod.

His teeth sink into my earlobe. Jesus. My sex clenches, my body filling with a pleasant rush of want. I'm not sure that I can make it to the damn apartment before I get his cock in my hands.

But Luke has no intention of relinquishing control. He slides his hand under my dress, stroking me over my panties. I kiss him hard, sucking on his tongue.

His eyes are open, and he's already lost in some world of desire. He wants me, and badly.

I press my lips into his neck, making my way to his ear. I suck on his lobe until he's groaning. "That's only a teaser," I say, pressing my hands against his slacks. He's hard. God, is he hard, and I need to feel him in my hands. I need to make him come.

He digs his hands into my hair as I undo his belt and unzip his slacks. "Ally, are you sure?" he asks. "We're not exactly alone."

"That didn't stop you this afternoon," I say. I press my lips into his, sucking hard on his bottom lip as I wrap my hands around his cock.

God damn, he feels so good in my hands. I stroke him, pumping hard and deep. He shudders from my touch. His tongue slides over his lips, his eyes pressing together in ecstasy. He reaches for me, presses his fingertips against my back.

"Alyssa," he groans. He grabs my shoulders, pulling me into him, pulling us together. Our lips touch. It's electric. There's so much between us--so much want and need. I grip him harder, pumping harder. This isn't enough. I need more.

I need to suck him off.

I break our kiss and plant my lips on his ear. I suck on the lobe, pressing my tongue flat against it. Then I move to his neck, scraping my teeth against his skin. He tastes damn good, some mix of sweat and Luke and the soap in my shower. God, he must taste that good everywhere.

He shudders as I unbutton his shirt and press my lips against his chest. He's so hard, everywhere. He feels so damn good.

I don't waste any time. I wrap my hand around his base and brush my lips against his tip. He shakes again, a moan escaping his lips.

He's mine, completely powerless to resist me.

I take him into my mouth and suck on his tip. Damn, it's been too long since I've been here. His skin tastes better than I imagined, and I love the feel of his firm cock against my tongue.

I slide my tongue around him, exploring every inch of it like it's the first time. His hands flee to my hair. He tugs gently as I lick him up and down.

I tighten my lips around his cock, sucking harder and harder. He shakes, his hands tugging hard at my hair. "God damn it, Alyssa," he groans. His voice is so deep and needy. Because of me. I'm making him feel this. I'm making his face contort and his body shake.

His hands are on my shoulders, then on the straps of my dress. He pushes it out of the way, freeing my breasts. He cups them, rubbing his thumbs across my nipples.

My sex pangs with need. Damn, he would feel good inside of me.

But he feels damn good in my mouth. I suck hard, stroking him as I take him deeper. He brings his hands between my legs and pulls my panties to my knees. He runs his hand against my clit, stroking me. Fuck. Waves of pleasure spread through me, pressure building in my sex.

I slide my tongue over his tip. He groans, louder than before, and slides two fingers inside me.

Jesus fucking Christ. I almost drop. I have his cock in my mouth, his fingers in my sex. He's filling me everywhere, and he's going to make me come with him.

I have to make him come, to feel him pulsing in my mouth.

So I suck, harder and harder, until he's groaning and shaking, until he's fucking me with his fingers. My sex clenching, tensing with this unbearable pressure.

Fuck. I keep my lips tight around him, my tongue against him. He thrusts into my mouth, deeper and deeper. "Damn, Alyssa," he groans, and he plunges his fingers inside me, deeper and deeper.

I grip him tightly, pump him up and down as he thrusts. He's at the edge, almost there. He thrusts into me again, and I suck as hard as I can, keep him as deep as I can. He groans, his cock pulsing as he comes in my mouth.

I wait until he's finished, until I've caught all of him, and I swallow hard. He pushes me flat on my belly, spreading my legs apart, and he slides his fingers inside of me. Again and again, harder and harder.

The pressure builds and builds, my whole body filling with pleasure. It's so much, almost too much. I'm sure I can't take it anymore. But he keeps going, and it keeps building. I groan, digging my nails into his thighs as an orgasm rips through me.

Luke pulls his hand back, helps me fix my dress and get back into my seat. He kisses me, deeply, possessively. "I'm going to get you back for that," he says. His lips are back on mine before I can reply.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Luke

The first night back home without Alyssa is awful. It's dull and achy and sharp all at once. The house feels so empty without her. The bed is so cold and drab without her in it. I give up on sleep and spend my night on the couch with my collection of
Law and Order
DVDs. But it only hurts worse seeing New York flash over the screen, wondering how she'd react if she were here.

I'm busy all week, unable to offer much more than "Good luck tonight" or "I miss you." When I'm finally released from my mountain of work--well into Saturday evening--I call her.

"Hey you," she answers. It's loud behind her, like she's still at the theater.

"How was your show?"

"I killed it. No big deal."

She's confident for once. I'm glad. She'll never take my word for it that's she incredible.

"You have time to talk?" I ask.

"Ellen invited me out, but I'd rather talk to you."

"You sure you're in the mood to talk?"

"It's not a
we have to talk
kind of talk, is it?"

"We're engaged now."

"Really? I almost forgot." She nearly squeaks. "It's only been a few days."

"Have you thought at all about a wedding."

"Like I said. It's only been days."

Something about her voice sounds off.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Tired. Long night, lots of performances."

Tension knots in my back. "Ally, you do know you can talk to me about anything."

She swallows hard. "I know."

I shift, moving the phone to a different hand. Is there an easier way to get her to open up? There has to be something I can do... "There's no rush. Both my parents are dead, after all."

"That's awful."

"No, it's just how it is," I say. "But what about your mom?"

"What about her?" Her voice drops, completely void of even a hint of enthusiasm.

I could let it go, offer to talk about this when Alyssa has more energy.

But I won't. She's my fiancée now. Just thinking it fills the room with color. Alyssa is my fiancée and we're going to have an amazing life together.

And I'm not going to bullshit her or handle her. I'm not going to pretend everything is okay the way I did with Samantha.

I'm going to tell her the damn truth.

"If you want to stay estranged from your mom, I won't force you to reconsider," I say. "But if not, I'd love to have her at the wedding."

"That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"She loved Ryan," she says. "Every other thing out of her mouth, when we were still talking, was why can't you see that Ryan boy cares for you? Why don't you give him a chance?"

"You did listen to her eventually."

"She doesn't know what happened," Alyssa says. "She'd hate me even more if she found out."

"Are you sure that she hates you?"

"Maybe not hate, but... You wouldn't understand." She says it with such resignation, like it's hopeless, like no one ever could or will understand the things she keeps locked up.

"But I want to. I want to understand everything you ever felt."

"I thought we were talking about the wedding," she says.

"Do you want to invite your mother?"

"No."

I bite my tongue. "Okay. If you don't want to invite her, we won't."

"You're not going to give me attitude later?"

"I've never given anyone attitude in my life."

"Right..."

"What is it I wouldn't understand?"

"My mother. She's not a bad person. She worked hard to make sure we had a nice house and food on the table, but she's not there. She's an empty shell."

"That must have been lonely."

"It was nothing," she says.

"It's not nothing."

"You know what it's like to grow up lonely."

"You can admit you hurt once," I say. "I'm not going to think less of you."

She takes a deep breath. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to start thinking about that."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry. I'm disappointing you."

She hurts so much, and there's nothing I can do to take her pain away.

My voice is soft. "It kills me that you believe that."

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm a mess."

"You're not."

"Don't lie. I am." She takes another deep breath.

"Okay. You're a mess, but you're my mess. Besides, I'm not so neat either."

"That's true."

"Watch it."

She laughs. Finally. "Thanks, Luke."

There's such a warmth to it. For a moment, I'm sure everything between us will be okay. I'm sure she'll be okay.

The muscles in my back relax. "I hate to circle back to the original point, but have you thought about the wedding at all?"

"It's been like four days."

"Every day I'm not married to you is one day too long."

She laughs again, but this time there's a nervousness to it. "You're so fucking cheesy."

"Honestly, Ally. I can envision a hundred different weddings. We could do it at some fantastic hotel ballroom or in the park or even at city hall. Whatever you want."

"I haven't thought about it."

"Were you planning anything with Ryan?" I regret the words the minute I say them.

"I don't know. He was taking care of it." She sighs. "I'm sure he would have invited everyone he knows. And I'm sure it would have just been some ridiculous, lavish affair. And I am sure I would have hated it."

I can see it. I can see a massive wedding at an obscenely expensive hotel, the room adorned with so many flowers it sets a new definition for ostentatious. It would be the perfect excuse for Ryan to show off all his money. An even more perfect excuse for him to show off his fresh new trophy wife.

I can't be that guy, the asshole who forces her to bend to my will.

"Luke," she says. "You there?"

I press my fingers into the phone. "I'm here."

Even if here is three thousand miles away.

"I'm sorry I haven't thought about the wedding." She says it with a sigh, like she thinks she's disappointing me again.

"Ally... I don't care about the fucking wedding. I just want to marry you."

"Okay." She swallows hard. She's nervous. "Well, I'll think about it. And I'll think about the guest list. And, uh..."

"You were right before. It's been less than a week. You don't need to think about it."

"But I want to," she says. "I want to marry you too, and I want to figure this out so it's not hanging over my head."

I bite my tongue.

"Sorry, that came out wrong," she says. "It's just. I'm not a fan of planning parties. And this will pretty much be the most important party of my life."

"It doesn't have to be big. It can just be the two of us."

"Yeah." She takes a shallow breath. "I'll think about it."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask. There's something off, but I'm not going to press her too hard.

"Fine. But it's getting late. I should head home before the subway gets all fucked up."

We say our good-byes and I collapse at home, racking my brain for some way to make this distance more bearable.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Alyssa

It's a sunny day. Bright and warm and beautiful the way all summer days are. The sand is rough and hot beneath my feet, and I struggle to take another step. The beach. I must be on a beach. Obviously, I'm on a beach. The beige sand is right in front of my face. And it's so damn bright. The sun must be bouncing off it. The sun must be high in the sky.

God, it's bright. So bright I can barely see anything but the blue sky surrounding me. I squint and throw my hand up to shield my eyes. Something comes into focus. Someone standing a dozen or so feet away in a black tuxedo.

Fuck. This can't be... I bring my other hand to my forehead, shielding my eyes from the oppressive glare of the sun. It is. That's Luke, but there's something off about him. Something different. I can't put my finger on it.

He nods, smiling, or something like smiling. It's hard to tell from here. It's so damn bright. I press my eyes closed, but the sun is so hot on my face. Everything is this awful shade of yellow black.

Then it starts. That music. Jesus, not that music. It's the fucking wedding march. This can't be my damn wedding. Not here. Not like this. Not yet.

I have only two choices--run away or take a step forward. A step towards the rest of my damn life. I do. The heavy satin fabric of my dress presses against my legs. I bring my gaze to it--it's such an oppressive, blinding white. It's some polyester terror, a tacky thing better suited for a sixteen-year-old debutante.

But the clothes don't make the woman.

I take another step. Squeeze my eyes shut. There's nothing else I can do. Nothing better to do. No other way to block it out.

"Alyssa." It's a whisper, a tiny quiet thing. Luke. It's Luke. I finally open my eyes, and he's right in front of me. But there's still something off about him, a coldness, a hardness, a strangeness.