He pulls at his belt, snapping it off and tossing it onto the floor. “What do you want to do with all of me?” he asks, moving his hands to his shorts.

My blouse falls to the floor, and his gaze drops, widening at the sight of my breasts. “Love you.” I wait for his eyes to reach mine. It happens immediately. “Is that okay with you?”

“Fuck yeah, it is.” Fabric rustles as he lowers his shorts, but I can’t look anywhere but his eyes right now, the hungry shift in them pinning me in place, and willing my fingers to snap open the button of my jeans. His forearm flexes, and that gets my attention immediately, because I know exactly what’s causing those beautiful muscles in his arm to roll.

He’s working his cock at a painfully slow pace. Pulling the skin, teasing the head with a slide of this thumb. “Take them off,” he orders, dropping a nod as he stares at my waist.

“You take them off.”

“Are you going to work this for me?” he asks, his hand stagnant on his cock.

“Depends,” I run my finger over the seam of my jeans, teasing my pussy.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Me,” I add, and he moves like lightning, forcing me with two firm hands on my waist down the hallway. My back hits the bed and his hands rip my jeans off in one swift motion.

He pumps his cock while his eyes burn down my body, leaving scorch marks on my skin. His gaze stops abruptly at my left hip, just above my panty line, and he hauls my body closer with a firm hand on my thigh.

“Tessa, did you…” His finger runs over the sensitive skin, tracing the letter. The script, matching my initial on him perfectly, but twisted into the shape of an L. He doesn’t look up at me, which I’m expecting. Instead his tongue wets his lips, and he presses them into my tattoo.

“Luke,” I pant, arching off the bed, forcing a firmer seal of his mouth on my body.

“Flip,” he orders with a hand on my waist, moving me himself before my body agrees to it.

Not that it wouldn’t. I know exactly what he wants to do, and my thighs are practically trembling just thinking about it.

I look over my shoulder at him after I’m positioned on my hands and knees. He reaches back with a hand, grips his T-shirt, and pulls it off, tossing it, as his gaze remains locked between my legs. He guides my panties down to my knees, runs his finger up my length, and I fist the sheet with both hands, dropping my head when he bites the skin of my ass.

“Ask me,” he says between long, torturously slow licks up and down my pussy.

I moan against the lip I have tightly secured between my teeth, trying not to scream out, as not one, but fuck, two fingers enter me. He pushes between my thighs and sucks on my clit.

“Ask me,” he repeats, blowing against my heated flesh.

My body trembles, the pleasure becoming too intense, too much, too perfect.

His fingers fuck me in a teasing rhythm, slowing down when I tighten around them to prolong my pleasure.

I gasp through a moan when he runs his tongue up my spine.

“Ask me, Tessa. Now.” He’s at my ear, leaning over me, grinding his rigid cock against my flesh.

“Do you love me today?” I ask as he tilts my head to taste the skin of my neck. My eyes fall closed when he pushes inside me, filling me, owning me.

My name breaks apart the moan that rumbles in his throat. “Yes,” he answers, pressing the word into my cheek. “I love you. Every day.”

I shudder, reacting to his response and the way he’s slowly fucking me. His thick cock slides between my legs, wetting my lips, my thighs, gliding over the skin of my ass.

He enters me again, this time greedy, lust driven, rocking my body with punishing thrusts.

“Fuck, yeah, babe.” He groans behind me, sliding his hand up my back.

My elbows give out under his power, bowing my back to him, forcing him deeper, and oh, God, he’s so deep.

“Luke, I’m gonna come.”

“I want you how I used to have you,” he says, slowing down the drag of his cock, prolonging his release. “Fuuuck, Tessa, please.”

I remember his words to me at the hospital, and my decision is made.

“Come in me.”

He knows how to get me there with him; all too well, he knows it. A shift of his hips, the way he hungrily digs his skillful fingers into my skin. I stretch my arms out in front of me as his thrusts become frenzied, as my body burns up from the inside out, and I feel it, the second he breaks, when all control is lost, and it happens the very moment I call out his name.

“Luke!”

“Tessa, oh fuck, yeah, squeeze my dick, babe.” He pumps into me, whispering dirty words against my ear, rooting himself deep until his cock stops twitching.

I whimper when he kisses my shoulder, running his lips along the line that leads to my neck. He nuzzles me, breathes me in, and sighs.

He fucking sighs.

Nothing could make me happier right now. Nothing.

“Ask me,” he whispers against my ear.

I smile.

Well, almost nothing.

I have many ugly memories of this place. Ones that outweigh, or make me forget all the good ones.

When my mom died, this house became cold, and desolate. My father was like a dark cloud hovering over every room, shadowing all the light my mother had left behind. I hated being here with him, especially during this time of year.

Holidays were always harder. I didn’t need the added bonus of watching him stumble around the house, reacting violently to the loss of her one minute, then collapsing on the floor in a sobbing pile of misery the next. While other families were partaking in traditions I grew up with, I was making sure my father fell asleep on his side, in case he started vomiting in the middle of the night. I spent a lot of Christmases alone, not knowing where my father was, not bothering with putting up a tree, because who the fuck would care if we even had one? We were the only house on the street not decorated with multi-colored lights, but I got to the point where I didn’t give a damn. I let myself forget about all the things my mom used to do around this time of year. The decorating, how she used to spend hours in the kitchen, presents.