Such A Good Guy

3. Luke

CHAPTER 3

Luke

I s she pregnant?

As our limo speeds through the early autumn evening, I force my breath to slow down.

On the leather seat across from me, Luna is glowing with life and energy, but then she always is. Her dark, velvet-black hair is wound into a bun, with the little strands falling down her elegant neck, and my eyes gobble up her dark big eyes, those lashes sweeping across her cheeks.

I want to take those lashes in my mouth and suck on them, lick them so devotedly that one comes off in my mouth and I swallow it down reverently.

But she’s awake, so I can’t.

Her mouth is a perfect plump pink, and I try not to stare at her belly, her tits, wondering if they’re filling with milk already, wondering if that’s my baby in there growing strong.

My skin is buzzing so hard with the idea that she might be pregnant with my baby that it makes it even harder to drive down that feral monster inside me and act like the kind of guy she’s always said she wants.

Kind, thoughtful, emotionally self-aware and engaged, respectful and gentlemanly

I can be those things.

But my monstrous desires are crawling through my skin, wanting to burst from my flesh, and my fists are tightened so hard nails are cutting into my palms.

But the pain doesn’t calm me down, doesn’t stop me from wanting to grip her by the hair and shove my cock past those pink lips.

There’s only one thing that can calm me down when I’m afraid that jagged beast inside will come out.

But I’m nervous.

Don’t touch it

Don’t touch it

It’s going to look suspicious if I reach under my clothes and start fiddling with it. But I can’t help it. It would calm me down, I know it.

Words like, “You look fucking amazing. Now take your panties down and spread your pussy or I’ll spank your round little ass” or “I need you so badly precum is soaking my goddamn thighs” hover on my lips.

But she said it’s better to appreciate women for their accomplishments, so I don’t.

“How’s your shop doing?” I ask instead. “Were you able to compensate for the increase in shipping costs with the whole-goods bulk rate?”

Her lips twist up as she looks at me.

“You don’t want to hear any of that stuff.”

“Yes, I do, Luna,” I say, surprising myself with how calm and cool my voice is.

And it’s true. Luna runs a small crystal shop in Vermont and I could listen to her talk about different rocks and crystals all day long, her eyes bright with excitement and her pretty little hands moving.

“Pretty good,” she says, that adorable little wrinkle between her eyes. “Sales have been down a bit this fall, though.”

What the fuck? This shouldn’t be happening. I have measures in places to prevent this from ever happening.

I have people who are supposed to prevent this from happening. Someone has failed at their job. And failing at their job means my angel has been inconvenienced.

I don’t forgive that.

“I am surprised,” I said. “I sleep with the crystals you picked out for me every night. Amethyst, selenite, and rose quartz. But I do need to buy more, though.”

I would cover myself in literal rubble at night if she fucked me.

Luna turns with a gorgeous grin, shifting her body so her generous hips are hiked in the air, the swells of her ass in those tight jeans riding high and luscious.

“Oh, Luke, you are already The Mystical Crystal’s biggest customer! You bought 40% of my inventory last year. You don’t have to buy any more.”

40%? OK, that’s a normal percentage, right? That percentage shouldn’t frighten her.

Just as long as she doesn’t find out about the rest of it. Luna is wonderfully knowledgeable and it’s not her fault the beach-goers of Vermont haven’t been financially intelligent enough to support her.

My cock is pounding in my pants and I have to sit forward, my elbows on my knees, so she can’t see the thick bulge in my jeans.

My fingers itch to get my stress relief.

Get some of what I need.

Just a little bit.

Just enough to satisfy the craving.

I’m not an addict .

I don’t have to carry the stuff around with me.

I could leave it at home.

If I wanted.

But I don’t want.

I just need one sniff. Mayb e two. Just a few seconds. The question is how to do it without Luna noticing.

It’s adorable how excited she is, how those big dark eyes are lit up as she scans the Toronto skyline. She’s always wanted to visit Canada.

The limo is taking us to my concert in the Rogers Centre. There will be forty thousand people crammed in to see me, and probably more outside.

I want her to love it

I’m getting jittery as fuck now, rubbing my hands up and down on my jeans.

There’s sweat breaking out on my neck, rolling down my back.

Then I look down at my lap and see my thumb start shaking.

I know from experience that if I let it go any longer my whole hand will start shaking.

Then my arms, all the long lines of muscle will twitch and shake uncontrollably.

And I’ve only let it get this bad one time, but if I was stupid enough not to get my fix, my whole body would shudder, full-scale tremors, nausea, and chest pain so intense I’ll think I’m having a heart attack.

And then she really would notice, start asking questions that I don’t want to tell her the answers to yet.

Everyone thinks I’m such a good guy.

“One of the good ones!” the articles say.

“One of the few guys we’ll let live when the women take over,” people write on my TikToks where I water my garden of tiny succulent plants or take a cup of tea at a cat café.

But they don’t know the truth.

Shit, maybe I am addict. In fact, I know I am.

But Luna can’t know. Not yet anyway.

“Why is your leg shaking?” Luna asks me. “Are you nervous about the show? I didn’t realize you were this famous, Luke, god! This is crazy!”

Am I nervous about the show? No.

I don’t give a shit about my stratospheric climb to international pop star.

People always marvel at how down-to-earth I am despite my sudden fame.

But the truth is that I don’t give a shit about the fame. Only what the money can do for Luna.

Before I met her, as a former group home kid, music was the only thing that calmed me. A keyboard, piano, guitar, even two fucking spoons.

Now there’s something else. And something that alternately calms and inflames me with a wild, raging heat.

What I want is Luna.

Not just her body, but her love.

I crave it, I need it, I am going to get it.

I can almost taste the relief on my tongue as my vision blurs.

I can’t go another fucking second without my fix

“Look!” I call, pointing out the window. “If you look outside now you can see the CN Tower.”

She immediately cranes her head around to look out the limo window.

“Where?”

And a few seconds is all I need to satisfy my fix.

I pull on the cord around my neck and bring my necklace out, running it under my nose.

And then I inhale deeply, feeling that instant hit of relaxation, the subtle but distinct scents of apricot, Russian sage, and a tiny hint of incense, my fingers running over the silk of the braid.

When you’ve been secretly cutting off locks of your best friend’s little sister’s hair ever since the first night you met her, it’s a thick braid, and a talisman so strong it’s practically magic, a relic I can use to calm myself down when the urge to touch her is almost uncontrollable.