He’s coming back to my place. Again.

This is starting to become a habit of mine—a bad habit.

We pull up outside my place . . . and I know that I should just thank him for the ride, go up, and get some sleep.

But . . . I can’t.

Luke obviously wants to come up and I feel like I owe him at least an explanation for my behavior earlier in the day. Plus, there’s just this magnetism between us . . . like, I rationally know that I should be pushing him away, and getting that distance between us, but my heart just doesn’t want me to do it.

He slumps down on the couch as soon as we’re inside, looking absolutely exhausted.

I’ve been watching him work all day, talking animatedly on the phone, a procession of people entering and then leaving his office. They all need to talk to him, relying on the decisions he makes.

It seems like a lot of pressure to be put on one set of shoulders, but he’s handling it well. And from the discussions I heard around the office as his plans progressed, he did a good job and averted what could have been a disaster.

“I’ll make us some food,” I say. “Any preference? I’ve got instant ramen, or instant mac and cheese. This isn’t Paris, I’m afraid.”

“Hey,” he smiles, “you’re can never be too rich or famous to enjoy some mac and cheese. That sounds so damn good right about now.”

I start preparing it as he stares around my tiny apartment. It’s still a mess—it feels like I’ve had no time at all to even finish unpacking since I moved in, let alone put my own stamp on the place.

“I’m spending so much time here I should bring over a change of clothes and a toothbrush,” he quips.

I roll my eyes, and he grins.

As the water boils, thoughts of telling him about the baby bubble up in my mind.

I feel like I haven’t given him enough credit—he might freak out, he might not. But he does deserve to know, and at least once the marriage is annulled I’ll know for sure that the baby can be provided for.

There’s always the risk that he’ll try and fight me for custody, but I get the feeling that, playboy or not, he hasn’t got it in him. He’s not evil, and hell, he’d even make a good Dad, probably.

The words are on my tongue and I’m ready to blurt them out, but when I turn back he’s fallen fast asleep on the couch. Sleeping like a baby.

It’s been a really long day for him—the baby news can wait. He’s got enough on his plate with this regulatory crap from the government and I shouldn’t burden him more.

I debate letting him sleep there on the couch, but two nights in a row probably won’t do his neck or back any good. I kneel next to him.

“Hey,” I whisper, shaking him gently. “Wake up. You’ll be as stiff as a board in the morning if you sleep there. You take the bed, I’ll have the couch.”

His eyes flutter open and he smiles up at me. “Stiff in the morning? Baby, I’m stiff right now.” He takes my hand and guides it downward.

My eyes widen as my fingers are pressed against his huge, rock-hard erection.

“I was having some sweet dreams about you,” he whispers. “Normally I’d be angry if someone interrupted a dream as good as that, but seeing as it’s you . . .”

He surprises me by springing up off the couch and scooping me up, off my feet and into his arms. He crushes me in an embrace, his urgent lips forcing mine to part, his tongue darting in, claiming me for his own.

There’s a small part of me, quietly in the back of my mind, that goes, damn it, Tess . . . really? It’s telling me that we shouldn’t be doing this, that I should push him away. But it’s drowned out by the much louder voice that tells me it just feels right.

He carries me in his strong arms and places me down on the bed, then kneels in front of me, ravenously devouring me with his eyes.

I’m still wearing my work outfit, which today is a knee-length gray skirt and some lacy pink panties underneath. I feel dirty, and not in a good way—like all the grime from the day is clinging to my skin.

But Luke doesn’t seem to notice that. He puts his hands on my legs, hiking my skirt up my thighs, his eyes widening as he goes further up.

“Lift your ass up so I can get this skirt out of the way,” he says.

At his demand, something stirs inside, right down in the pit of my stomach. I meet his eyes and the desire I can see in them spurs me on. Still staring into his eyes, I help him with my skirt, pulling the hem up around my waist.

He breaks eye contact, unable to help himself. His gaze is fixed on my panties, watching my every movement. “You look so fucking sexy right now,” he says, his voice a choked whisper.

I don’t know what’s come over me—I don’t normally do this, honest—but I run my hands down the length of my body, squirming with pleasure at my own touch.

My fingers flutter on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs and I let out a sigh of satisfaction. I tease him like that for a little while, brushing my heat gently through the thin fabric of my underwear. Wetness drips out of me now, my body responding to his hungry gaze.

Luke’s eyes widen as he notices the slight damp spot on my underwear from my wetness.

“Play with yourself,” he commands. “Show me what you do when it’s dark and you’re in bed on your own, thinking about me.”

A smile tugs the corners of my lips up. He’s so cocky . . . but it kind of suits him.

I slip one delicate finger under my panties and groan as I feel how slick I am.

Darkness flashes in his eyes; he’s holding himself back, but soon enough he’ll have to unleash the beast within. He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and it’s pure desire, pure longing. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

As he watches, I find the engorged, sensitive nub of my clitoris and begin to finger myself slowly, my breathing growing heavy as I writhe on the bed.

The sound of metal clinking draws my eyes to the front of his pants, where his big, rock-hard cock is tenting the fabric. My fingers speed up, fluttering more firmly across my clit.

Luke’s eyes never leave my exploring fingers, my pink wetness, as he fumbles with his belt. A smile plays on his lips when he notices where my gaze is directed, and a blush creeps up my neck, filling my cheeks with warmth—from embarrassment or arousal, I don’t know.

Luke pulls his boxer shorts down, freeing his huge, beautiful cock. He traps my gaze as he brushes his palm over it. “Enjoying the show?”

“I can ask you the same question,” I comment, my voice husky with arousal. “That must have been some dream you were having.”

He smiles, his eyes heavy-lidded and fixed on my busy fingers as he grips his thick shaft and strokes. “It’s all coming true too. You’re a dream come true.”

He runs his hands up and down his length as he watches me, his breath coming in deeper gasps as he pleasures himself. I can’t wait to touch that huge shaft, to taste him, to take him inside me.

For a while the two of us just watched each other, my back arched on the bed as I fingered my wet pussy, Luke’s eyes heavy with lust as he caresses his huge, thick shaft.

“I’ve got to taste you,” he rasps, hot urgency in his voice.

I can’t take it any longer either. I need to feel his touch, to feel his hot skin against mine. I hear myself beg, “Luke, please . . .”

He doesn’t need telling twice.

He hooks a finger under the waistband of my panties and tugs them off, then pushes my legs apart and buries his face between them. I moan as his exploring tongue unerringly finds my most sensitive spot. His fingers spread my outer lips as his other hand continues to stroke his huge erection.

I watch him jerk himself off until I can’t help but throw my head back, giving into his expert tongue that’s flicking and teasing my throbbing nub. Every stroke on my clit sends a pulse of pleasure through me, an exquisite electric tremor.

I rest one hand on his head, my fingers running through his hair, as he unrelentingly devours me. My back is arched, pushing my desperate cunt harder into his face, my body urging him on.

My fingers scrabble and grasp at him—I’m no longer in control of my body. He is the master of me now. I move to the rhythm of his tongue, writhing in time with each delicious stroke.

My face is hot as I throw my head back and moan again. This feels out-of-this-world good, but I want to feel him inside me, to feel his hot cum spurt as he climaxes.

With a wrenching effort, my shaking hands push his head away.

He looks up at me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like that, because I could feel you shivering and it wasn’t from the temperature.”

I laugh breathlessly. “Oh, I liked it alright. But it’s your turn, mister. I want to taste you too.”

Surprise flits across his gorgeous face—pleasant surprise. Then, still stroking himself, he gets up to his feet and shoots me a lascivious smirk. “Get on your knees.”

My knees feel weak and unsteady and my heart is pounding in my chest, but I come to kneel in front of him. Somehow, his thick, engorged shaft looks even bigger from up close.

Luke has the biggest cock that I’ve ever seen, and I can hardly believe I took his entire length inside me—twice. It must be nine or ten inches long, thick and hard and strong.

He looks on in amusement, obviously enjoying my wide-eyed admiration. “Changed your mind?”

I wrap the fingers of my right hand around the base of his shaft, silencing him. He’s so big that my thumb and index fingers barely touch. I take his throbbing, velvety tip into my mouth, and he groans in delight, his hands gently coming to rest on my head.

“Good girl,” he grunts. “I know you can take it.”

I start slowly, coming to terms with just how big he is. I can’t just stuff him into my mouth. I need to work my way up gradually. My hand strokes up and down his thick shaft as I lick and suck his tip. Feeling a little more confident, I dip my head and take more of him.

He groans in appreciation, watching my lips wrapped around his fat cock. I begin to bob my head up and down, my wet lips leaving a trail of saliva on his hot flesh. With my hand and my mouth in tandem, I work into a rhythm, taking more and more of him with every stroke.

His fingers are intertwined in my hair as he guides me, sometimes slowing me down, sometimes urging me to speed up, to swallow more of him. He’s being kind of bossy—normally not something I like, but coming from Luke . . .

Everything about him excites me, spurs me on, and I feel my slickness dripping down my thighs.

“Did I tell you to stop playing with yourself?” he asks through heavy breaths.

With my lips spread wide by the thickness of his manhood, I look up, meeting his hot, searing gaze.

“Fuck. You look so fucking sexy,” he groans. “Play with yourself. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

I reach my hand down between my legs and play with my pulsing clitoris, keeping myself wet and slick and ready for him. My mouth is stuffed full and I can feel him right at the back of my throat.

He’s taking control but he’s gentle with me, letting me go at my own pace, never forcing me to take more of him than I can manage.

I raise my head, and his shaft, slick with my saliva, slips out from between my lips. I’m about to take him into my mouth once more when he stops me.

Before I can say anything, Luke stands up and in one swift movement lifts me up from the ground. Losing my balance, I wrap my arms and legs around his strong body. I can feel his hard muscles straining, rippling under his skin as he carries me, pressing me back against a wall.

We lock lips once more, a deep, hungry, urgent kiss. I grind myself against him, wriggling and moaning as my slick folds press against his hard body. I can feel his rock-hard cock and I can barely contain myself.

The cold of the wall on my back contrasts with the heat radiating from his skin, from his thick, iron rod. I crane my neck downwards—I want to watch that fat cock slide inside me.

With one hand, Luke grips the base of his shaft and teases me with this tip, brushing it over my slick lips.

I beg and moan, desperate for him to take me, to plunge into me, but my entreaties fall on deaf ears. I nibble at his neck, nipping his skin gently and playfully.

“Please, Luke,” I gasp. “Please. I want you, I need you. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

He smirks through the haze of his own lust and need. And then, finally, he gives in. “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name when I’m done with you.”

I cry out as he enters me. His thickness stretches me as he slides in. Wet and ready as I am, his sheer size still means that he has to go slowly.

Inch by inch, he pushes inside. Gentle, tentative. I moan and I cling onto him, my fingers scrabbling and scratching at his skin.

“I’ve got you right where I want you now,” he whispers. I can feel his hot breath in my ear, his hot flesh against my own.

He thrusts a little harder and I cry out as I finally take all of him. The slick walls of my pussy are stretched to their limit and I can feel him at my very center, the core of me. He leans back a little and begins to glide in and out of me, slowly at first but soon picking up speed.

“Oh my God. You feel so good inside me,” I pant.

“I can make it feel even better,” he rasps.

I hold on for dear life, my body impaled by his manhood. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall, focusing completely on the sounds of his breathing, the gentle slapping of flesh against flesh, the delicious feeling of being filled up so completely.

Luke moves faster and faster, deeper and deeper, branding his claim on me with every thrust. His groans are guttural and loud. He presses his body harder against me, pinning me tightly to the wall.

His movements reach a feverish pitch, and I scream in wild abandonment as I feel my climax approaching. And then, with one final plunging push, his whole body tenses, every sinew strained. He roars as he finishes, his cock tensed and hard as a stone, plunged deep inside my pussy.

I give myself over to my own climax. I scream as I feel his cock pulse with his orgasm, his hot cum spurting into me. We climax together, pressed up against the wall, in an explosion of heat and power and lust. My body is wracked with each pulsing wave of my orgasm, until, with one last shudder, the two of us are spent.

It’s like the calm after the storm. Where there had been gasping and thrusting and sheer raw sexual energy, there is now only the sounds of our heavy breathing and the delicious exhaustion that only comes after good sex.

For a minute or two, neither of us move or speak. Luke still holds my weight and his cock remains inside me, still hard, still huge. When I finally summon the energy, I lean into him and kiss him, relishing the salty taste of well-earned sweat on his upper lip.

Gently, I push him away, extricating myself from him. When he puts me down on the floor, it’s all I can do to remain standing. My legs are Jell-O. I stagger over to the bed and collapse.

“Wow,” I gasp. “That was . . . something.”

He chuckles between labored breaths. “You’re really something. You wake me up from a naughty dream, and then you somehow one-up my dirty imagination.”

He comes and lays next to me on the bed.

For the second night in a row, we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

The thing is . . . I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want to let him go.

And that scares me.