Every inch of my body is on fire by the time we reach the hotel, and I’m shocked I can still stand upright while he guides me through the lobby. He’d spent every second of the ride back teasing me to the point of a massive orgasm, and the moment I was about to let go, he’d conveniently pulled the car up to the valet. Leading me past the check-in desk, he touches the small of my back, his expression unreadable as someone—obviously one of his fans—takes a photo of us from afar.
“That doesn’t bother you?” I question softly, which causes the corners of his mouth to lift into a smile that makes my heart skip a few beats.
“What bothers me is the fact your panties are still on.”
God, he knows how to make my throat go dry with just a handful of words. Staring up at him from under my lashes as we enter an elevator that’s currently occupied by another couple, I huskily reply, “Honestly, I’m surprised they’re not in your pocket.”
His laugh is low and inviting, and I don’t miss how the woman standing in the corner lifts an eyebrow appreciatively at him. I grip his elbow a little tighter; position my body so that I’m partially blocking her view.
“Next time,” he promises.
The other woman releases a little cough, and I press my lips together to hold back the smile threatening to split my face. Finally, the couple exits the elevator, and as soon as the doors close, Lucas grabs me to him, his large hands cupping my ass through my slinky dress.
“I hate you in clothes,” he complains, resting his forehead to mine. His messy hair falls into both our faces, and I can’t resist pushing it back.
“I—” I begin, but the elevator dings, signaling we’ve reached our floor. “Well, hell, looks like you won’t be hating my clothes much longer.”
Without warning, he picks me up, and I feel lightheaded when his mouth demands my attention, his tongue parting my lips insistently. Warmth pours through me, settling in my core. He pulls away, and it takes me a moment to realize we’re in the entryway of our room.
“I’m impressed, Mr. Wolfe,” I say as he sets me down and shuts the door. “You can carry me, turn me into a wobbly mess with your lips, and open a door all at the same time.”
“I’m fucking talented,” he drawls. “The best at everything I do.”
“Cocky bastard.” I start to straighten the hem of my dress, but he stops me. Nudges the fabric a little higher until it’s bunched around my waist.
“Don’t even waste your time with that.” Trapping me against the door, he reaches behind me, undoing my zipper carefully. My breathing is slow, pleading, and it only intensifies when his fingers splay across the bare skin of my back. In one quick motion, he drops the dress around my feet. Leaning away from me, he tilts his head to the side, his beautiful eyes examining me so carefully that I feel my skin flush under his scrutiny.
“What?” I ask huskily, glancing down at the paisley print carpet.
Grinning, he cups my face. “I’m trying to decide how I want you.”
“How you want me?” I repeat, taking a step forward so that my breasts press up to his fully clothed chest. He nods, and I shake my head. “What about how I want you?”
He sucks in a breath. “Fuck, Red, say that one more time.”
Clearing my throat, I throw my long red strands back and meet his gaze. “What about how I—” I begin, but my words are lost when he grabs my hand and presses it to his cock. Damn. “I swear, I hate clothes just about as much as you do.”
I watch as he sheds every inch of clothing, leaving them in a pile on the floor next to my discarded dress. “Better?” he says with a teasing grin, and I bob my head enthusiastically. “Good.” He lifts me up again, straddling my legs on either side of him, and I dig my fingers into the tattooed skin of his shoulders when I feel his thick erection against my center.
I breathe out a curse.
And he pushes a little deeper inside me.
“Is this how you want me?” he demands, and when I shake my head, he pulls my hips down slightly. I moan. Tighten around him. “How do you want me, Red?”
I feel my shoulders touch the door he had me pinned against just a moment ago, and I arch against him. “I want you—” Once again, he cuts me off by doing something that’s positively earth-shattering to my body—he rubs my clit with his thumb and forefinger, which makes my legs tremble around him. “Ohhhh.”
“You want me … ohhhh?” he repeats. Finally, he bucks his hips, filling me completely. I grind my teeth. He mocks me, “Fuck, Sienna, you’re so eloquent.”
“Smartass,” I manage to say despite the hum of desire spreading through my body. “I want you everywhere, Lucas. I want every part of you. And I want you to have every part of me.”
Keeping his eyes locked with mine, he takes control of my body, his thrusts rhythmic, hypnotizing, and I am lost in him. When I finally let go—with one of my hands gripping his shoulder and the other pressed against the door behind me—he kisses me long and hard.
His cock is still buried deep within me as he carries me to the bed in the center of our room, and I’m still shaking from the orgasm when he positions me on top of him.
When my lips part to speak, he presses his thumb against them and moves his head to each side. “You asked for everything, and that’s what I’ll give you. Merry Christmas, Red.”