“Donovan, that feels—” I say in a breathy voice as I try to control myself. “Oh, God.”
“Maisy, you are the most beautiful person I have ever known,” he whispers against my neck.
His mouth finds mine again and our tongues dance like we were always meant to be together. When he finally breaks our kiss and begins peppering me with kisses along my jaw and down to my neck, the sensation of his hot mouth tickles and sends flutters shooting through my core. My pussy is so wet and aching for him. I press my thigh into his swollen dick and he groans into my neck. Fuck this is erotic.
He gets to my swallow tattoo and kisses and licks each bird on my collarbone.
“You taste like heaven, Maisy. I don’t think I can ever stop tasting you now that I have had you,” he breathes into my chest. His words are almost enough to undo me. No one has talked to me like this, and it feels carnal. He kisses and licks his way down to my breasts again. He teases each one with his tongue, licking and flicking the nipple. Finally, he sucks one into his talented mouth and I gasp for air.
“Donovan,” I moan.
“Call me Van, sweetheart,” he says with my nipple between his teeth.
“Van… don’t stop,” I plead, and a smile spreads across his face.
He moves skillfully down to my belly, where he kisses each of my abs. I can feel my body’s involuntary reflex under each kiss.
Again, without asking or warning, Van slips my panties off agilely. Like he has done hundreds of times I’m sure. Hundreds of times, my stupid brain emphasizes. Remember Bella talking about his enormous dick? Turn off, brain. I want to enjoy this.
Van spreads my legs with his hands and looks up at me. I’ve envisioned those emerald eyes staring at me like this many times, but now that we’re in the moment, it’s so much hotter than my dreams. His eyes are swirling full of lust and desire. He looks fierce, determined even, but his eyes are softer than his expression.
“Ready, Owl?” he asks. He finally asks for permission instead of just taking what he wants.
I nod.
“Owl,” he growls, “tell me. Tell me what you want.”
I’m slightly embarrassed, but I know what I want and I want him to get me there.
“I want you to make me come,” I reply and cover my face with my hands. I’ve never utter words like that out loud.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He smiles and flicks his tongue over my clit. A jolt rockets through me and my body flinches. Whoa.
“I want this too. I’m going to make you see stars, baby. Move your hands and look at me.” I do as he flicks his tongue again. Same response. I stare at this gorgeous man with his face millimeters from my slit and suddenly I’m not embarrassed. I’m comfortable with him and my sexuality. I need this.
Van begins licking, flicking and sucking my clit and my body tenses and relaxes and tenses again and again under his skilled tongue. I’ve never felt pleasure like this scorch through my body. Just as I think I can’t go further, he slips a finger into me and sucks my clit into his mouth. I jolt nearly upright and stare down at him between my legs.
“Holy fuck, Van!” I can feel his smile between my legs, but he keeps going. He uses his other hand to push my body back to the ground.
After a few minutes, I can feel every muscle in my body tighten and I can feel myself clench around Van’s long, skillful finger as he curls it to hit that spot inside.
“Come for me, Owl. Let me be your first,” he says into my slit and I can feel the bass in his voice vibrate into my core.
And I do. I come, hard. The heat, the pressure, and intensity surge and I’m seeing stars. When I finally catch my breath and open my eyes, I look down at the beautiful man between my legs. This is a surreal moment. Van’s green eyes are dark and he’s staring at me with intent. He removes his finger from me and sticks it into his mouth. He sucks my juice off of it, and it’s so erotic, I can’t tear my eyes off of him.
“You taste just like I imagined,” he whispers into my ear as he lays down next to me.
“You imagined this?” I ask.
“Only every single day since I’ve met you.” He smiles. The knowledge that he has envisioned me like this, with him, since we’ve met, makes my stomach flutter. It gets my blood rushing and I can feel myself losing control of my emotions.
“Can I repay the favor?” I feign confidence, but I’ve never sucked a dick before. I want to. Just his. I want to suck his cock so badly in this moment I feel like a different person. I feel like this isn’t me at all, but I like this sexually confident vixen that Van is bringing out in me.
“He’s all yours, Owl,” he replies with a calm confidence. There’s a high standard here. I’m sure he’s had more blow jobs than he can count.
I push on his cement chest and he rolls onto his back. I slip my thumbs into his boxer briefs and he lifts his hips to help me take them off. I slide them down his muscular legs. Every muscle from his quads to his calves flex as I drag them down. I look back up and his impressive cock is resting on his abs. How is that supposed to fit in any hole?
I think he can sense my apprehension. “Have you done this before?” he asks.
I shake my head in the negative.
He smiles and his cock twitches on his stomach. He grabs his shaft and starts to stroke it up and down. “Whatever you do, Owl, it will be perfect because you’re doing it.”
His ease and comfort level with his sexuality is actually quite liberating. No need to be embarrassed. I can do this. I want to do this.
I reach for him and he let’s go of his dick so I can hold it. I lower my head and I lick the tip, it twitches again. That was pretty cool. I like having control over him for once. I do it again, same response. I put the head into my mouth and start swirling my tongue around.
“That’s it, Maisy,” he moans. Those words coming out of his mouth light me up again and turn me on something fierce. My insides flare with the power and feeling of control over his release. I suck hard, then slow down, then speed up again. I take more of him into my mouth. He tastes like soap and salt. It’s not unpleasant in any way.
Monét and Ruby have some blow job horror stories. After Monét’s cock ring encounter, I thought I would be scarred for life, but here I am, with Donovan Blake’s dick in my mouth.
As I continue to lick and suck and swirl, I lower my hand and cup his balls, gently massaging them as I suck. Van’s eyes roll back into his head and he screws his eyelids shut. “Th-that, right there, Jesus,” he moans.
“Look at me,” I command, as he did to me. I think he’s stunned, because his eyes shoot open. His usually bright emeralds are dark, but the corner of his mouth turns up with my aggressive behavior. This would be my new alter-ego talking. The vixen is loose.
I reach my other hand up to the eagle on his chest and lightly drag my fingernails down to his core. His stare is penetrating as he watches my hands and my mouth working him.
Finally, I start stroking his cock in rhythm with my head and Van lifts his hips to press more of himself into my mouth. I move faster and faster. As I do, he matches my rhythm and I can feel him tense. His gaze hasn’t left me since I commanded him to open his eyes. He is intense.
“Maisy,” he gasps as he entwines his fingers into my hair, “I’m going to come.” I appreciate the warning, but I’m not stopping. I want to taste him.
“Maze,” he starts, but before he can finish his abs clench and his hips bucked up off the ground slamming his cock into the back of my throat, throws his head back and shuts his eyes. A warm, salty, thick liquid shoots down my throat. I instinctively swallow. Holy shit. I don’t know who this girl is, but I like her.
“Holy shit.” He reads my thoughts exactly. He opens his eyes as I rise to my knees and exhales roughly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
I lay back down next to him and he wraps his arms around my small body. I’m shivering at this point. The sun has gone down and it’s chilly Massachusetts fall weather, but he’s warm, and I fee
l a comfort wash over me in his embrace. I feel safe with him. He grabs a hoodie he brought and covers me up with it, but we don’t move for quite a while. We just lie there, naked, embracing each other after the most electrifying sexual experience of my life.
The moon is starting to reflect on the water when I realize we better get back.
“Van, it’s getting late. We better get going,” I say reluctantly. I really don’t want to go, but homework awaits me back at my dorm.
“No one has called me Van since my Grammy Charlotte passed away.” He sighs and runs his hand down my back while the other is gently caressing my cheek. He sighs again more deeply, then he stands to dress. “But I like when you say it.”
“Then I’ll keep saying it,” I confirm. I can sense a sadness within him, but I don’t push it. Not tonight. He’s been opening up to me slowly, and in his own time he’ll reveal it all. So will I.
“I’m sorry I destroyed your beautiful picnic. No one has ever done something so amazing for me,” I say. I’m starving now, and actually considering snagging one of those PB&J sandwiches off the grass.
“Maisy, this picnic was nothing compared to what you’ve done for me,” he says as he cups my face and kisses me softly. In this moment I think he is talking about more than just a blowie. “Let’s stop and grab something on the way home. My treat. You have to be starving, and I was going to feed you.” He smiles as he surveys the smashed sandwiches, tipped over container of strawberries, and spilled bottle of champagne. “I guess I got carried away.”
“And it was more than worth it, thank you.” I kiss his cheeks and interlock my fingers with his. This feels real, almost.
Chapter 22: Maisy
Van and I have been studying every night for the past week after he’s done with football and I’m done with my shifts at Holy Sip!. Midterms are here.
Really, we actually study a lot before we get to the good stuff. We haven’t had sex, but our oral game is on point.
For someone with the reputation Van has, I can’t figure out why every time we’ve come close to having sex, he stops himself. I can feel his want, but he’s restrained, and never acts on it. It annoys me slightly because I want it.
Tonight is our last study session before the midterm tomorrow. Van has surprised me with how quickly he absorbs the material. He’s quite smart when he applies himself. After two hours I close the book and my notes.
“I think you’re ready,” I smile at him.
“Yeah?” he asks. He looks down. I lift his chin with my hand.
“Yeah. You’re gonna ace it. I’m a heckuva tutor.”
“The best,” he says with a weak smile. “I’ve never been nervous in my life, Owl. Not once. Not in school, not in football, not in my life. Ever.” He seems almost terrified, and I can’t help but think there may be more to it than just this test.
“Van,” I say after a beat, “you got this.”
“Owl?” he says as scoots over and pulls me to him. “Why did you trust me to tell all the things you did?”
A wave of guilt hits me. I told him a lot, but the only private aspect of my life that he knows is about my mother – I use the title loosely – who bailed on me. He doesn’t know my biggest secret. If I tell him, I’m worried he’ll freak out, maybe even judge me for my dad’s sins.
“I haven’t told you everything, Van. I have a big secret that I don’t share with people,” I begin, “but, before I tell you, I need you to know I’ve had a good time, and not just because you were paying me to be here.”
I owe him that. He’s been nothing but amazing. He’s been open, honest, and shared personal tidbits of his life with me that he hasn’t shared with many people. It feels good to be in his circle of trust. It makes me feel things I didn’t think I could with another person. Sure, I trust my friends, but this is a whole new level intimacy that I didn’t think I was capable of. He has unintentionally burrowed himself into my soul.
His emerald eyes pierce mine. His face is trying to hide his emotion as he attempts to put on his Donovan Blake mask again. The smooth, controlled, hot-as-hell, bad boy of Cambria University. But, I know better. I’ve seen behind the mask and he’s a wonderful, caring, lonely man who I’m falling for – hard.
“You want to tell me your biggest secret?” he asks, almost in disbelief.
“I do. Although after you hear it, this may be the end of what we have, but I need to be honest. One thing my dad taught me was to always be honest, even if it hurts. Whatever this is,” I motion my hand between us, “it can’t move on until you know it all.”
Van winces at my words and his eyes shift away from mine for a second before he brings them back to me. He looks uneasy, but quickly regroups.
“Nothing you can say could change anything between us,” he says with complete confidence. Well, we shall see.
“Remember when I told you that you weren’t my type?” I ask and he nods.
“Yeah, our extremely professional relationship that was shot to hell the night I ruined our picnic,” he says with a smile. He looks like he’s remembering our night at the lake.
“Ruined? No, that was the best night of my life.”
“Really?” His face softens with his question. “So I am your type then?”
“I don’t really have a type, but if I did, it would be you.”
“Hell yes,” he smirks. “I knew it,” he says with an adorable chuckle that he doesn’t use in public.
“The reason behind my fear and hesitation is my dad, Drew,” I begin and Van’s eyes are locked on mine. He nods. “He’s currently incarcerated at San Quentin.” I pause to let that sink in for a second.
“Whoa. I didn’t see that coming,” is all he replies for a second, but then asks the normal question, “What did he do?”
“He sold drugs, but then was ‘promoted’ and began smuggling them from Colombia for the leader of a cartel down there. I left California to move away from that life. I needed a fresh start, and to be away from the stigma of being my father’s daughter.”
“I can understand that pressure.” He nods. I bet being the son of George Blake isn’t all that easy either. That’s a big name to live up to. At least George isn’t in prison. “Is that it, Maisy? You were scared to tell me that your dad is in prison? I went to school with kids whose dads are serving sixty years for embezzlement and fraud. All criminals, different color collar.”
“There’s more.” I pause.
“Okay.” He nods for me to continue.
“I was practically homeless three years ago. My dad had just been convicted after a lengthy trial and the DEA had seized everything we own,” I sigh. “I’m broke. I’ve been sleeping on my great aunt Mabel’s couch just to have a roof over my head. That’s why I worked so much back home and now here too. I have to. I wouldn’t be here without my scholarship. I’m tired of living out of a suitcase and not having a place to call home. I want a house. A family. A huge family with lots of kids. I want to be better than my parents.”
“Why didn’t you ever accept my money then? If you’re broke, I mean,” he asks.
“Just because I’m broke doesn’t mean I need charity. I can work for what I have. I saved for two years to buy my sewing machine. Anything is possible with hard, legitimate work.”
He stares at me like I grew a second head. He has had a very different experience with money than I have. After a beat, he finally asks, “How did they get your dad?”
“No one in his position would last long. His minions sold drugs to a bunch of undercover cops and one of them ratted him out. They busted him when he returned home with a load. He’s not innocent. But he was a really great dad when he was around.”
“I wish I would have had that,” he says as he looks across the room again, deep in thought maybe. “I don’t think my parents ever loved me. I sound like a whiny little bitch, but it’s true. They had me and Mia just to continue the bloodlines so a Blake could run my dad’s company. I really believe that’s the only reason.”
“Your parents loved you, I’m sure.” I rub his muscular forearm and stare at the map tattoo.
“Ah, who gives a fuck if they did? I don’t need them, or love. Love is just a myth. A brief feeling of euphoria that someone had to put a label on and then we’re all expected to endure pain because what we’re feeling is ‘love’ and love is supposed to be hard. Fuck that and fuck love. Anything that’s supposed to make us whole should not be that hard,” he says, but I can tell he doesn’t mean it. It’s rehearsed. It sounds like a lie he’s told himself over and over again until he finally believed it.
“I don’t want to lose my ability to love and trust even though mine has been broken in the past – by pretty much everyone who was supposed to keep it. I feel like I’m getting it back, with you. Your image, the bad boy who doesn’t give a rip, I don’t buy it. There’s so much more to you than that. My feelings for you, Van, I lo—” He holds up his hand.
“Do you sing, Owl?” He sighs with the question. This is getting too deep for him. I can’t believe I almost said those three words that would have changed everything.
“Owls don’t sing,” I joke to lighten the dark turn this night took. I hope this isn’t our last night together, but I see the seriousness in his eyes so I answer, “Yes, I can sing a little. Why?”
“Sing for me,” he commands.
“What? No.” I laugh, trying to play it off. “You’re telling me what to do again.”
“I tell everyone what to do, Owl. Sing for me,” he commands again. I want to protest, but I can see he needs this. I wonder if his mother sang to him. Doubtful. Maybe Franny the nanny sang when he was little. I don’t know, but I want to be the one to comfort him right now.
I begin singing “Shallow” by Lady Gaga from A Star is Born. I do my own rendition that I made up when I first heard the song. It’s such a beautiful piece, and Lady Gaga’s voice gives me chills. When I’m finished, Van’s face is combing mine. Amusement, wonder, awe. I’m not sure what to make of his expression.
Redemption (Cambria University #2) Page 16