by G. K. Brady
He let out a high-pitched chuckle—the man equivalent of a giggle—and tossed the pillows aside. “Because you want what’s between our legs. That’s what Ferguson says anyway.” The smile dropped from his face the moment his friend’s name tumbled off his tongue, and a spectacular set of storm clouds took over his expression.
Huh. What’s that about? He appeared to be in the advanced stages of inebriation, so chances were his signals were misfiring.
“Ferguson, Schmerguson,” she scoffed. “Don’t kid yourself, stud. First of all, I’d beg to differ that it’s what’s between our legs that men can’t live without. And that thing”—she twirled her finger in a circle and pointed at his crotch—“controls what you do way too much. When it does your thinking for you, it gets you men in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
His lips curved up in a lazy, cocksure smile. “Did you just call me a stud?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s what you got out of that?”
In a surprise move, he lunged for her, and one big hand caught her thigh, making her squeak. “C’mere, M. Wanna show you how much I missed you,” he mumbled.
She broke his grasp and gave his shoulder a little shove. He sank slowly against the back of the couch and listed to the side. “I doubt you could even get it up right now,” she muttered to herself.
“Stay right there,” she instructed. “I’m going to get you some water.” Gallons and gallons. I’d better brew up some coffee too. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.
Wide awake, she moved about the kitchen, filling a huge cup with water and firing up the coffee machine.
“Oh, I can get it up all right. Wanna know why?” His deep rumble caught her by surprise, and she whirled to face him leaning against a cabinet. Apparently, he had heard her muttering.
“Don’t think so, no.”
He barreled on anyway. “Because you’re in the room, that’s why. My dick knows. He has M radar, and he stands up whenever you’re within sight … or smell range. Come a little closer, and I’ll show you.”
Without her permission, her eyes strayed to his groin. Oh my. The long, thick bulge was proof he wasn’t kidding. Her eyes zoomed to his. His brows waggled over evergreen eyes and a cocky smirk. Damn, he’d caught her looking, and the flush heating her cheeks broadcast her guilt.
Barely propped up, he cupped himself and executed a Michael Jackson thrust. “Don’t be shy. You know you want it, babygirl.”
She cinched her arms over her chest. “I am not your babygirl. And you need to sober up before you even think about pulling that thing out.” How could someone so damn annoying be so cute at the same time? More importantly, why had he gotten so wasted?
“Okay, your hotness. I apologize for my poor word choice, but being around you does that to me. You scramble my brain.” He exhaled a noisy breath. “Just … lead me to your bedroom, take off your clothes, and sit on my dick. Or my face. Lady’s choice. Either way, I promise I’ll make you feel good.”
“Gee, how’s a girl to pass on a great come-on like that?” she said dryly. “Oh, I know. Pass.”
The smugness slid from his face. “M, I know I’m not smooth, but I’ve been dreaming about you all week. Just put me out of my misery. Please.” His head lolled, and for an instant she thought he might fall over.
“Water first.” Not that she was going to lead him anywhere but back to the couch and let him sleep it off.
After he’d chugged half his body weight in water, she did just that, tucking a pillow under his head as he flopped onto his stomach. Perched on the edge of the couch, she smoothed his hair, and he let out a long, happy sigh. She rubbed his scalp, his neck, his shoulders, and his back and chuckled at the little moans and mumbles of “so good” he emitted. Soon the only noise was his soft snoring, and she got up, poured herself a mug of coffee, and watched him from across the room, contemplating what had made him reach for the bottle. Her worry had her parking her own troubles on the back burner of her mind.
He was an enigma, and she wanted to tease out all his puzzle pieces because the mere sight of this hot mess of a man on her couch made her heart swell like it never had before. God help her, she’d only known him a month and she was in love with him.
Michaela had no idea how much time had passed when she startled awake. She was curled up in the armchair, and it was still dark out. A lone table lamp glowed, and two gleaming eyes peered at her from the couch.
Blake sat forward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I didn’t even know you were there until I stumbled back to the couch.”
She unfurled her body and rolled her sore neck from side to side. “Stumbled back to the couch? Where did you come from?”
“The bathroom. Someone made me drink a few gallons of water, and my bladder was ready to burst.”
“Hopefully, it flushed some of that alcohol out of your system.”
He nodded. “It did, but there’s still a lot more in there.”
“Why were you drinking?”
“I missed you. Now why don’t you get your ass over here so I can stop missing you?”
Stifling a laugh, she sauntered to where he sat, bumping her knee against his thigh. He reached up, the muscles along his forearm flexing as he tugged at her. God, she loved watching all that beautiful power stretch and bunch. “I need you, M,” he whispered.
She threw a leg over his lap and settled against his hard length, grinding lightly, teasingly, pushing her fingers through his mussed-up hair. She hovered her mouth over his. “Is this what you want?”
He stared into her eyes through his hooded ones. “Yeah, just like that. Except your clothes are still on.” He might have looked dazed, but his hands were on full alert and they went to work, lifting the hem of her top and pulling her bra cups up in one fluid move. Fingertips dancing over her skin, he held her gaze as he hissed a breath. “So beautiful.”
Was he talking about her or her breasts? Not that it mattered when a second later his tongue swiped the underside of each breast, followed by the scrape of his teeth. Meanwhile, his fingers lightly pinched and twisted and pulled at her nipples. A gasp flew from her mouth, and he raised his head to smile at her drunkenly while his fingers continued their pleasantly rough assault.
“Do you like that? I learned that in Vegas.” His eyebrows bounced.
She stiffened and pushed against his shoulders to get away, but he was too quick, too strong, and he clamped down on her hips, pinning her to his hard, bulky legs before pulling her to his chest. While images of him screwing other women in a Las Vegas hotel room invaded her brain, he stroked her curls and dropped soothing kisses on her head. “Shh. That didn’t come out right. It’s not what you think.”
Wiggling, she managed to sit somewhat upright, but there were his strong fingers on her breasts again, kneading, fondling. She pushed his hands down, off of her and onto his stomach, where they stayed. “If it’s not what I think, then what exactly is it?” she snapped. “Were you getting lessons? Watching some sex show at a strip club? Or at one of the whorehouses?” And here she’d just admitted she loved this jackass.
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his muscular neck. “Don’t be like that. I only went to a strip club once with the boys, and they don’t do shit like that there.”
His eyes widened as he seemed to realize what he’d confessed, not that she could hold a strip club against him. He was a good-looking single guy with gobs of money, and she had no strings on him. Oh God, strippers have strings. Did he stuff bills into their G-strings? Did his fingers graze unblemished skin? Did he buy a lap dance? With his intense, brooding ways, he didn’t strike her as the type, but she’d been proven wrong too many times before to rely on instinct.
He seemed to read her racing mind. “M, I only went because one of the guys I know from a different team is getting married. It was sort of an early bachelor party, and I couldn’t not go. But nothing happened. Yeah, it was a late night, but I stuck to club soda, and I didn’t touch anyone.
Had absolutely no desire to. As for whorehouses, I’ve never been to one, never been tempted to go, and I sure as hell wasn’t tempted on this trip. Some of the guys at the bachelor party, after a few drinks … they were talking about what women like, so I paid attention.” His expression was pure earnestness with a dash of dejection coloring it. He swallowed. “I wanted to surprise you, to show you I had a few moves that maybe you … I wanted to please you in ways you might not have been pleased before.”
The look on his face about broke her heart. She’d been bossy in the bedroom, hadn’t she? She’d basked in the power she held over this gorgeous, powerful man and had wielded it like a conductor wielded a baton to direct the orchestra the way he—or she—saw fit. Maybe he wanted to claim some of that control; maybe she should let him. Maybe he had a thing or two to teach her. Her tummy fluttered at the thought of him taking complete charge. “So you weren’t with anyone else?”
A little storm erupted on his face, like a two-year-old winding up for a tantrum. “Fuck no!”
God, she felt stupid. They hadn’t talked about exclusivity, but his words flooded sweet relief through her, and her body softened against him. One thing she understood about this man was he gave his loyalty unflinchingly.
His hands remained where they were, resting idly on his stomach. “I don’t ever want you having doubts, M. Do you believe me?” His voice was quiet, tentative. One finger traced a path from her shoulder to her wrist.
Desire kindled and caught hold, overtaking her doubts. She slid her hands into his warm calloused ones and drew them under her sweater, placing them back on her breasts. “I believe you. Now what was it you wanted to show me?”
One corner of his mouth twitched. He dragged his eyes over her, a dark glimmer lighting them with wildness. His hands slid to her hem, where he tugged.
“This is pretty, but it’s gotta go,” he said hoarsely.
She whipped the top off. Her chest was heaving, her pulse galloping. The bra was still askew, and she felt a flush of embarrassment racing up her neck as he took stock of her exposed flesh, licking his lips. His eyes flicked up to hers. “The bra too. I want to see all of you, M. Now. I’ve missed seeing you.” His voice was low and gruff, not quite a demand but a growl nonetheless.
Without a stitch of hesitation, she flung the bra over her shoulder in an act of false sexual bravado. Beneath her, his cock jumped, but he didn’t touch her; he just looked, making her blood sizzle with lust. “Yeah, like that,” he murmured.
In a surprise move that stole her breath, he flipped her on her back, his heavy body sinking atop hers as he pinned her to the couch. “Let’s christen this couch.” He hauled her hands above her head, trapping them in one of his big fists. “I want to mark you, M. Mark you with my mouth.” Eyes clouded with thunderstorms searched hers, seeking permission. Though unsure exactly what he sought permission for, she trusted him wholly. And while he wasn’t fully sober, she didn’t care. She gave him a nod, captivated by this alpha side he’d been hiding and that she desperately wanted more of.
His meaning became clear when he dropped his mouth to her breast. He began gently by licking the underside once more, and the sensation along her sensitive skin made her squirm. He nibbled lightly, then sucked hard, soothing the spot with the tip of his tongue before sucking her skin again. Her nipple furled into a tight bead, and he showed it some attention with a flick of his tongue.
“I can tell you like this,” he growled. He bit down, sawing the nipple between his teeth, before returning to the hard-suck-nibble-lick action around her breast. While he tortured one breast with lips, tongue, and teeth, his free hand tormented the other one with calloused fingers, a sort of gentle-rough push-pull.
As his mouth traced a circle around her breast, he drove her to the outer reaches of pleasure where she hadn’t been before. Unable to hold back her moans, she let them warble in her chest unchecked, her hips bucking as much as they could with his weight pressed against them—her silent plea for him to enter her.
He popped his head up and inspected his work. “Mmm, missed a spot, but I’ll come back to it.” Her thighs clenched in anticipation. His eyes grazed her chest, lifting lazily to hers. “I want you naked under me. I’m going to let your hands go so you can take off your pants, your panties, everything. But be quick about it. Then you’re going to give your hands back to me. Got it?”
She nodded. He released her hands and lifted himself in a plank so she could squirm out of her bottoms under him, but her trembling hands fumbled. He didn’t seem to notice—or care—because his attention was back on taking care of that spot he’d missed.
“Is this something you learned from the guys?” she rasped.
“No, this is all me. Told you, you inspire me. Now settle down. This is going to take a while.”
He moved to the other breast and gave it the same tortuous treatment. Weren’t his lips worn out? When he was done and she thought he might finally take off his pants and send her crashing over the edge where he’d kept her dangling, he released her hands. He used both of his to push her thighs apart and wedge his broad shoulders between them.
“Gonna mark you here too,” he murmured. Then his mouth was on the tender flesh of her inner thigh, clamping down, his tongue swirling, sucking the blood to the surface, and her hips rose off the couch. Oh God!
She’d lost count of how many hickeys he’d put on her, though he didn’t leave as many marks between her legs. No, he became distracted and moved to her center, rumbling against her. “Fuck, you are so damn wet!” One long lick along her entire length released even more wetness. Soon he was using that suck-nibble-lick technique along her seam, and her entire body seized, muscles clenched, fists bunched, and his name tore from her lungs as she flew over the edge.
The laving gentled but didn’t stop, and her path back to earth stuttered along rough-hewn stairsteps. “Blake!” she gasped when she was finally back.
He raised his head. “Mmm? Ready to see?”
She wasn’t sure she could stand, but she nodded anyway. He helped her up, and she leaned on him with wobbly legs as he guided her to the guest bathroom. Flipping on the vanity light, he stood behind her and turned her to face the mirror. She blinked. And blinked again. His big hands had been holding her hips, but he swept them up her sides and cupped her breasts gently. He seemed to wince. “Uh, does that hurt?”
She shook her head, staring at marks that circled each breast like a string of large purple beads. The decorations disappeared beneath her breasts, but when he lifted them, she could see that the circle continued, unbroken, on the undersides.
He dropped a kiss on her shoulder and caught her gaze in the mirror. “Think I might have overdone it.”
“Doesn’t your mouth hurt?”
“No. Can’t feel it, though.”
No surprise there. “What did you leave between my legs?”
“Besides an orgasm, you mean?” His lips quirked, and he slid one large hand behind her knee, lifting her leg, spreading it wide while the other hand steadied her other side. She looked like a ballet dancer in this pose, except that she was completely nude and could count three purple ovals high on her inner thigh.
Her legs trembled, and he placed her toes on the covered toilet while he kept her splayed open. His chin rested on her shoulder. “What do you think?”
A giggle escaped her. “I’m not sure. I’m just glad I don’t have an appointment with my OB-GYN anytime soon. I’d be too embarrassed to explain how I got these marks.”
He pulled her tighter against him. One hand cupped her mound while the other moved to a breast. He kissed her shoulder, along her neck, moving upward. He ran the tip of his tongue along the shell of her ear and whispered, “You’re beautiful. You’re probably sick of hearing me say that.”
Before she could respond that no, she wasn’t tired of hearing it, his gaze returned to hers, holding it captive while one thick finger pushed inside her. She gasped.
“Does that feel good
, M?” His voice was edgy and deep, with smoke threaded through it. The one hand took turns massaging her breasts, his thumb and finger brushing her sensitive nipples over and over, alternating with pinching and rolling. Without waiting for her answer, he slipped in a second finger, his dark eyes watching her reflection. “Talk to me, M. I want to make this good for you.” Behind her, his shaft dug into her ass. At least she wasn’t the only one about to combust here.
He bit her neck softly. “You like my fingers fucking you?”
God, yes! “Mm-hmm...”
“And when I fuck you with my tongue? You like that too?”
“Yessss,” she breathed, reaching her arms behind herself to cradle his head. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let the sensations wash over her. She didn’t care that he was watching her hump his hand, didn’t care that she was fully exposed, didn’t care that he could see how his every word and every movement affected her. Didn’t care that, in this moment, he owned her.
He added a third finger, curling it, hitting that just-right spot, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. He shifted behind her, his hips rocking his erection against her ass. “This is what I’m going to see next time I stroke myself. I’m going to imagine your gorgeous tits swaying and your perfect naked body squirming because my fingers are inside you. I’ll picture the way your face looks when you’re chasing the orgasm I’m giving you, and I’m gonna come so fucking hard.”
Her heart beat double-time, pumping hot lava through her veins, but with his shockingly filthy words dancing in her sex-dazed brain, that flow became a torrent, an out-of-control, rushing river of fire.
He sank his teeth into her shoulder, and she bucked against his hand, matching each urgent thrust of his fingers. Her head rolled against his shoulder side to side, and she couldn’t contain the mewls rising in her chest, clawing in her throat, or the orgasm blooming in her body, ready to release liquid heat.
“Never seen anything as incredibly beautiful as you,” he purred against her neck. “That’s it. I want you coming all over my hand, then I want you riding my swollen cock. It’s so damn ready for you.”