20. Keke

Chapter 20

Keke

I t feels as if the whole world is coming in at me from all sides. I pace around the living room, a chaotic jumble of papers and lists scattered on the coffee table. The auction is coming up, and my mind races with a whirlwind of details that feel insurmountable. I bite my lip, trying to stifle the frustration that bubbles just beneath the surface. I need this to go perfectly; not just for the animal shelter, but also for Luke's future with the team and my own sanity.

When I hear the door click open, a rush of relief floods through me, hoping that Luke will somehow be able to alleviate the tension gnawing inside my chest. I turn to face him, and the stress of the day erupts out of me. I snap, “You're late.”

He holds up his hands, an amused grin spreading across his face as he presents two paper cups. “I come bearing gifts.”

“You think I have time for coffee? I need your help with the auction.”

“Okay, no need to get feisty. What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” I reply curtly as I take my peppermint mocha from him. “There's too much to do, and I don't have time for this.”

“You don't have time to drink a beverage?”

“I don't have time to delegate what I need you to do, I just need you to do things.”

He looks at the scattering of papers, and I see the panic on his face. “I am happy to help, believe me I am, but I don't know what needs to be done.”

I open my mouth to argue, but something in his voice stops me. Maybe it’s the way he cares, the sincerity that always cuts through my walls. Or maybe it’s those damn puppy dog eyes that get me every time. I replay what I’d just said to him and realize I was expecting him to be psychic. I feel like an idiot.

“I'm sorry. I'm just super stressed out.”

“Would it make you feel better if I went down on you for an hour or two?”

I laugh, the absurdity of his proposition breaking down the wall. “Thanks, I needed that. So?—”

He spins my chair around so I’m facing him. “I am dead serious.”

I shake my head in disbelief, the corners of my mouth twitching as I struggle to maintain my composure. “No you're not.”

Before I can protest further, he hoists me out of my chair, carrying me effortlessly to his bedroom. My protests fade into laughter as the ridiculousness of the situation lightens my mood. “Okay, okay, I get it. You're serious. Ha, ha. Very funny. Now come on, I have things I have to do.”

Instead of taking me back to my chair, he lays me gently on his bed. “Just relax, let me take care of you.”

As he kneels before me, my heart races with anticipation. Slowly, he removes my clothes, one piece at a time. Each time I protest, he gently shakes his head, smiling. His bed smells like him, and that makes me want to never leave it. But I have things to do. My mind wars with my desires. By the time I’m naked, I’m completely disarmed.

“You really were serious, huh?”

He peers into my eyes as he takes his own clothes off. It’s like having my own private stripper but way more intense as he slowly and deliberately removes one article at a time. Laying back and watching him take off all of his clothes is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

This isn’t just a physical act. He’s making it about me, focusing on taking care of me.

He spreads my ankles apart, gently kissing the inside of my legs, one after the other. Then my knees, and finally my thighs. I’m already trembling, but the moment that he kisses my center I all but lose control.

“Luke,” I murmur as my head digs back into the pillow.

“Mm-hm?”

“Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. I raise myself to meet his mouth, gripping his hair to redirect him where I want him as my climax crashes into me. I lose myself in it, in him.

I release his hair and lay back, waiting for him to get on top of me. He scoops under my hips and lifts me up instead, placing me where he wants me before his tongue takes a more leisurely route. Slow licks up and down, side to side, his hands pulling me wide open for him. The man feasts on me as though he has all the time in the world.

As much as he says this is about me, I get the impression it’s more for him.

I’m his snack, his plaything. He sucks and nibbles, fingers and explores. Pleasure strikes as two fingers work their way into me, making my back bow. My thighs quiver on either side of him as he mumbles against me, “Now.” His word tingles through my clit, and I rocket to another orgasm, wet and hot as I come in his mouth.

My body surrenders to him, utterly and completely. He can ask for anything— anything —and I will give it to him. But his mouth is too busy.

By the fifth orgasm, I’m wrung out.

By the eighth, I’m nothing more than a euphoric husk of myself.

I keep waiting for him to come up for air or to fuck me, but he never does. As he tends to my needs, the stress becomes a distant memory, wiped out by a tsunami of pleasure.

I try to nudge him off of me but a blissful haze has taken over, my strength disintegrated. He kisses my inner thigh and looks up at me. “All done then?”

All I can do is nod. Nod and gasp.

“I'll draw you a bath.” With that, he vanishes into his bathroom.

Of course he’s going to draw me a bath. Next, he'll feed me peeled grapes while I'm in there while placing a wine glass to my lips and fanning me.

I hear the water filling the bathtub. A moment later he comes out, fully nude, leaning on the door frame, arms crossed. I’m not sure if I should be insulted that he isn’t still hard.

“Lose the wind in your sails?”

He chuckles. “I came twice while I was doing that.”

“What? When?”

That gets a bigger laugh out of him. “If I had to guess, it was during orgasm three and seven for you. I take it you didn't notice when I grabbed the towel to clean myself up?”

“You kept going the whole time. When did you reach for a towel?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just know that there’s a towel at the foot of my bed that I promise you, you do not want to touch.”

I snort out a laugh. I can’t believe he got off from that. Twice.

“So what's with the bath?”

“You need to relax a little bit more.”

Just then, all of the things I need to relax from come crashing back into my mind. I sit up. The man literally had gone down on me for almost two hours, as promised.

“Luke, no, I seriously have things I need to get done?—”

“And the most important one is you relaxing. If you're a mess, you're not going to be any help to anyone, are you?”

“I know what you're saying, but that doesn't change the fact that I still have things I need to get done.”

He strolls over and picks me up again.

“Luke, you can't just carry me everywhere you want to take me.”

“Pretty sure I can. I'm doing it right now.”

I playfully swat his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

He sets me down in front of the bathroom door and pushes it open. Lavender clings to the steam wafting from the tub in delicate foggy curls topped by a mountain of bubbles. “You sure you have things to do that don’t include a deliciously warm bubble bath?”

I have no words. There is nothing I can say to argue with his plan for me. He’s already overwhelmed me once today, and now he’s doing it again. There are even little candles placed along the sink. It’s impossible not to be touched by his effort. No matter how hard I try.

“Consider me seduced. Bring on the relaxation.”

He hits me with a grin that takes my breath away. “On it.” With that, he vanishes.

I make my way over to the tub. The water is hot but perfect. Once I settle into the bubbles and get comfortable, Luke returns with a plastic cup. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Champagne.”

“In a plastic cup?”

He smiles. “The tub is slippery. The bubbles are slippery. I didn't want you to drop it and hurt yourself on the glass. Safety second.”

“I thought the phrase was safety first.”

“I'm a professional athlete. Trust me, safety comes second. Enjoy the bath.” He heads for the door.

“You really are something, you know that, right?”

“Just trying to be a good boyfriend,” he says with a playful shrug but the sincerity that laces his tone makes my heart skip a beat. He closes the door behind him.

As I settle into the warm water again, I experience a wave of conflicting emotions. What the hell am I supposed to do with a man who treats me like this? I’m used to guilt, pretense, gaslighting, games… is this a game? Is this his game?

I try to push aside the growing realization that I’m starting to fall for him. My stoic facade is just that, a facade, always keeping in mind what’s on the line. Both of our careers are hung up in this. We can’t afford to get wrapped up in each other.

But the longer I soak in the bath, the harder it becomes to ignore the truth. I’ve never experienced this kind of care or consideration from anyone before, and it leaves me feeling vulnerable in a way that scares me. I close my eyes, letting the warmth envelope me, trying to push the distressing thoughts aside, if only for a little while.

When he returns, a part of me wishes I could sink into the water and hide. Instead, I choose to embrace the moment, allowing myself to enjoy the peace he offered me. I smile up at him. “Hey.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“How nice it is to have someone like you in my corner.”

He smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Get used to it, I'm not going anywhere.”

I revel in those quiet moments, the ones without pressure or demands. The moments when it can just be us. Not that there is an “us.” Not really. That can never be. I have to keep that in mind.

The stakes are too high to get distracted, to lose myself in a relationship.

But as I look at him, I can’t deny the pull that I feel toward him. Our connection deepens with every shared moment. How can I deny myself this?

I close my eyes again and let out a deep breath, trying to silence the conflicting thoughts in my head. The bath is perfect. The champagne, delicious. I’ll deal with everything else later.

For now, I will simply allow myself to enjoy this. To enjoy him.