Summer (Four Seasons #2)

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Authors: Frankie Rose

BOOK: Summer (Four Seasons #2)
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Contents

Copyright

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SESSION REPORT

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

SESSION REPORT

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

SESSION REPORT

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

SESSION REPORT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Frankie's Newsletter Lottery

Tell Me Your Favorite Bits!

SUMMER

FRANKIE ROSE
 

Copyright © 2016 Frankie Rose

copyright © 2016 Frankie Rose

All rights reserved.

 
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at
[email protected]

632212

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places and characters are figments of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognises the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.
 

ONE

AVERY

“One more time, beautiful. I need to make you come one more time before I go.” Luke pulls me close, his hands sliding down to cup my ass. He leans in and drags his nose from the skin on my shoulder up to my neck, his hot breath leaving a trail of desire on my skin. I groan softly, reaching up and sliding my fingers through his hair before pulling back on the black locks. His brown eyes are warm. His smile is killer. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he wets them, as if savoring how good I taste. My stomach twists as he growls softly.
 

“I don’t want to go,” I whisper, leaning in, pressing my lips to his. The firm brush of his tongue beckons me to open up to him, to hand myself over to him unconditionally. His mouth tastes sweet from the cinnamon bagels we ate for breakfast. I suck softly on his tongue, and he groans, his fingers tightening on me. He pulls away, reaching behind me to clear the counter in the bathroom, and toothbrushes, hair gel, ear buds and cans of shaving foam all crash to the floor. I focus on him, reaching to tug his shirt off as he glances up toward the clock.
 

“Time’s your flight again?” he pants.

“Cab’s coming in forty minutes.” I start to take off my shirt, but he stops me, shaking his head.
 

“I want to do it. You’re mine to undress.” He takes my wrists and stretches my arms high over my head, leaning in to kiss me as the air rushes from my lungs. He smells so good, like fresh laundry and spicy cologne. My body reacts violently to his nearness, my pulse throbbing in my temple, my wrists, my neck.
 

“Hurry. You’re taking
far
too long here. Time is not our friend,” I complain. He chuckles. The sound is delightful. My lips turn up in a smile as I watch him; I’m not used to smiling this much. It feels strange. Alien. Unnatural and wonderful at the same time. Lust burns in Luke’s gaze, and I’m struck by the same unnerving thought I’m hit with every time he looks at me this way: how can a man so beautiful, so good, so right want
me
?
 

Because we’re both broken. We’re as healed as either of us could ever hope to be
, a small voice whispers in my ear.

He tugs me off the counter and kneels before me, working me out of my jeans. He slows as he moves past the scar on my thigh, the bullet wound gifted to me by Chloe Mathers—a clean through and through. My life almost ended over the Christmas break. Not from the injury that caused my scar, but from the poison in my veins, the water in my lungs.
 

Luke leans forward and presses his lips against my thigh. My eyes close as my head tilts back a little. God, I want him so badly. Gripping hold of his hair a little tighter, I tug him gently higher up my leg.

“Oh really?” he says breathlessly. “I see someone knows what she wants today.” He leans into me and presses a kiss against my panties, giving me what I want, and a violent shiver ricochets around my body. He’s so perfect. I used to be so scared of him, so intimidated by how he made me feel. For the longest time I couldn’t even admit my feelings to myself, but now everything has changed. All bets are off when it comes to my dark-haired boy.
 

“I like bossy, Avery,” he says, grinning up at me. “She should come out to play more often.”
 

Avery.
 

After everything that happened last year, I had hoped to go back to the name I was given by my parents, but it didn’t stick. I’d moved on, become someone else. I’d become Avery. I’ve finally gotten used to my new name, and Luke seems to have as well. He hesitated in the past, but recently he doesn’t miss a beat. Iris Breslin died in that ghost-filled house back in Breakwater—the one her father left her when he died. I need her to rest in peace so
I
can live again. She deserves that, and so do I.
 

Luke makes a raw, sex-crazed sound as he stands and begins to unbutton his jeans, and I find myself welling up all of a sudden. My emotions seem to run riot whenever I’m around him. Tears prick at my eyes as he kicks his pants off and picks me up, sitting me back on the cold counter. His expression changes instantly when he sees I’m upset.


Hey
.” He cups my face in his hands. “Hey, what’s the matter?” His fingers slide into my hair, tilting my head back so I don’t have a choice but to look him in the eye. His erection presses against me, the warmth of his chest against mine, driving me mad.
 

“I just don’t want to think about us not being together in your bed later.” I’m on the verge of breaking down. I hate feeling so weak. This is a different kind of weakness, though. So long as I’m not crying for my father anymore, I’m okay. Tears for Luke are all right. With anyone else I’m still guarded, learning how to let them in, but not with him. Luke destroys all the walls I construct, tears down the strongholds I’ve clung to for years.
 

“I know, beautiful. It’s going to be weird for me, too. First night in the new place,” he says. He’s been staying at Coles thus far, but Luke’s been living alone for years now, ever since he arrived in New York. Crashing with three other guys was driving him crazy, so he’s moving a few streets away in order to get some peace and quiet. He gives me a reassuring smile. “Not much longer ‘til you can come check it out, Ave. You shouldn’t be thinking about that, though. Stay right here with me.” He leans down and kisses me, breathing in deeply. I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he bends over me, pulling panties to one side, exposing my pussy. He hums with pleasure, and my body reacts to his as he dips low to slide his cock deep inside of me. The pressure is delicious, the sensation of my body forming around his never ceasing to amaze me. I try to suck in a breath, try to focus on the feeling of him inside me, around me, filling my senses, and little by little my sadness ebbs. I rock forward, unable to help myself, and Luke tightens his grip on me as a warning. The strength in his hands and the fierce dominance in his eyes almost tears me apart before we can even begin.
 

“Oh, fuck,” I groan, looking down to watch him work himself in and out of me. No matter how many times I witness this, the sight never loses its thrill. He’s so big. The strong muscles of his stomach and chest flex, shaking slightly as he slowly thrusts into me. Moving my hands behind me, I arch my back, showcasing my breasts.
 

“Goddamn, woman. You’re shameless.” Luke leans down and takes my left breasts in his hand, cupping and then licking softly. He brushes the rough pad of his thumb over my nipple while he continues to fuck me slowly, his motions wickedly torturous. Wickedly hot. I pant uncontrollably as I watch him enjoy me. “So beautiful, Ave.”
 

I reach up and grab the back of his neck, rolling my hips to massage his cock. His eyes shutter closed as he moves both hands to my hips.
 

“Wrap your legs around me, baby.” He takes a firm hold on my ass and lifts, my body slamming into his as I wrap my other arm around him. I pull up and push down as he shows me the rhythm he needs. The smell of sex is thick in the small bathroom, the sound of his friends laughing in the living room of Cole’s apartment lost under the sweet things we whisper to one another. I want him to consume me, to set fire to my soul and then put out the burn with the wetness of his tongue.
 

“Good, beautiful? You like how deep I fuck you?” He never used to talk to me like that. He always used to be such a gentleman. I loved that Luke, but I love this new, dirty version, too. He melts my insides. The rock star life has begun a transformation in him. He’s so much more sensual, so sleek and sexy. That side of him was always there, even when he was an NYPD cop. This lifestyle just allows the wicked side of him free rein.

“Mmm hmm,” I moan, leaning forward, pressing my tongue to his D.M.F. tattoo, licking over the ink and then sinking my teeth into his nipple. “Faster.”

“Oh? Faster? So greedy.” He responds in kind to my desire, lifting me and using my body to bring himself to the edge of ecstasy. Heat bubbles up in the center of me, the slick wetness where our bodies meet increasing our connection every time his pelvis presses against mine. It’s enough to send me over the edge. I’m pulled back suddenly by the shadow that flashes across Luke’s features, though. It sends a wave of worry through me as I dig my fingers into his flesh, working to keep him in here in the moment with me.

The consuming sadness that lingered on him after the events of last year is finally gone, and for that I’ve been overwhelmingly grateful. To see it resurfacing now, while we’re intertwined like this, is heartbreaking. I get it, though. It nearly broke him not knowing if I would wake up after the attack. I was dying, and he had to place his hands on my chest, lock his fingers together, and compress over and over again, screaming, desperately working to keep me alive until help arrived. Having taken a bullet to his own chest, he almost lost his life that day, too. Without him, I most definitely
would
have.
 

“I’m going to come. Don’t stop,” I whisper, moving faster, trying to draw him back into the moment. I want nothing more than to disappear into the oncoming orgasm, to vanish inside it, to become mindless and simply
nothing
as the world explodes around me, but I need him with me. Le petit mort, the French call it. The little death. Luke groans loudly as he thrusts fast and deep inside me. The look on his handsome face flips something inside me. I throw my head back and scream, every nerve in my body consumed in the fire of his attack.
 

“That’s it, beautiful. Come all over me, Ave. Mark me. I wanna smell you on me when you’re gone.” He leans in, pulling me closer as his teeth graze my collarbone. I scream again, riding out the pleasure until my mind can’t take it anymore.
 

He holds me close, moving to sit me back on the counter. Clinging to me, he leaves a trail of kisses on my face and neck. “God, I love you. I love you so much. This isn’t enough. I need more.” He moves his hands to hold my face as he slides out of me.
 

I wrap my arms around him, shifting my hands up his strong back, enjoying the tension in his muscles from working so hard for our sex. “I love you with all of me, Luke. You’re all that matters. You have my heart. My soul. Everything.” He has as much as I can give. The events of last winter left us clinging together, scared and unsure of life in general. After my father was acquitted of both the Wyoming ripper case and the four-person murder he was accused of back when I was a kid, I thought everything would fall into place. It did to some degree, but I am still me and honestly, he is still him.
 

We have a lot of healing to do. I just pray we can do it together.
 

TWO

AVERY

Heaviness sits on me like a well-worn cloak after leaving LA. I know it was unavoidable—Columbia is on break for the summer, but I still have projects that need to be completed and handed in. I have to go back to New York. There’s no getting out of it. Something isn’t right, though. I just can’t shake the look on Luke’s face when I left. He stoically refused to admit there was something wrong when I asked him what was troubling him. He’s far too selfless to clue me in when something’s on his mind most of the time, but it’s not just that. He’s growing a little stubborn.

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