Summer Indiscretions
Page 15
I take her lead and raise my eyebrows at the man, gesturing at him with my champagne flute. “Sometime soon would be nice. She’s hypoglycemic and needs to eat, like, five minutes ago.”
The guard’s jaw tightens, but he walks away.
“He thinks we’re some rich asshole’s entitled kids,” I murmur.
“Yup. Making a scene is the best way to fit into places like this. Bailey did an article about it once to see how outrageous she could behave before someone finally called her out on her behavior.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Yup.”
I take another sip of champagne. Mel’s bluff seems to have worked, but a tiny part of me has the urge to duck my head and flee before we get in shit. I’ve been around wealth the last few years and am doing fairly well for myself, but the poor kid in me who was dumped from one home to another with his meager possessions held in a garbage bag still gets a little bit of impostor syndrome—especially considering we technically gate-crashed looking like street urchins…and I never really thought about that turn of phrase until being on the beach with actual sea urchins.
No one knows the truth, but still. I focus on Mel, which makes me feel better. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes sparkle. She’s actually having fun with this charade, and I’m glad to see her tension’s completely burned off.
“Do you want to try some of this?” I wave my hand at the buffet.
She nods. “You’d have thought that eating those pork sliders would have filled me up, but I’m starving.” She grabs something floppy and green and leans closer. “Do you think these are food or garnish?”
“I have no idea.” I look at the people around us for a cue, but no one else is consuming anything other than alcohol. “But it doesn’t really look that good.”
She gives it a shake and sets it back down. “You’re right, it doesn’t.” Her eyes light up. “Have you tried sea urchins?”
Ha, I was just thinking about sea urchins. “Nope, but from the excited look on your face, I’m assuming I’m about to?”
“We’re about to,” she corrects, handing me one of the tiny plates with the top of the urchin cut off, revealing something custardy inside.
I take the crostini laid over the top and dunk an end inside the goop. “This really doesn’t look amazing.” Taking a subtle whiff of it reveals that the pinkish bits are crumbled pancetta, so that perks me up a bit. Even the weirdest things can be made better with a little bacon on top.
She knocks her bread against mine. “Cheers!”
We take bites at the same time and make the same grossed-out faces. The texture is off-putting. I know I shouldn’t have expected something buttery or custard-like, but I guess I did, and now that the real flavor is rolling over my tongue, I gnaw off another piece of bread to force the whole works down.
Mel looks around like she’s contemplating spitting the offending mouthful onto the ground. “I thought it was going to be more…buttery. This is awful.” She spits it into a napkin and tosses it into a nearby trash can. “I can cross that off the bucket list, but that was bad.”
A petite brunette strolls up just then and scrunches her face. “Isn’t the food here atrocious? You’re braver than I am to try it.”
Mel nods emphatically. “So disappointing.”
I lean in, unable to stop myself from playing along. “And the security guards? So unhelpful. We asked them, like, twenty minutes ago about the caviar.”
The stranger rolls her eyes. “So unhelpful. I haven’t seen you guys around here before.”
“I’m from New York,” I say, splaying a hand over my chest.
Mel smiles. “I live here, though. Shelby Kellerman.”
“And I’m Blake. Blake”—I try to think of a last name, but the only one that pops into my mind is from Star Wars—“Solo.”
It’s ridiculous, but the stranger nods and smiles at us. “I think my cousin mentioned a Blake Solo. I’m Monica Norberry, and I definitely know you, Shelby! It’s been ages, though.” She leans in and gives Mel an air kiss.
“Really?” I take a sip of champagne. “How do you know Monica, Shelby?”
Mel shoots me daggers from her eyes, sets down the rest of her urchin, and waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, who even remembers things like that anymore? The important part is that we’re finally catching up. How’s your brother?”
Monica pokes at a canapé. “Chip is still in Provence. I only came back because Tay asked me to.”
“Of course.” Mel nods sagely. She’s actually a pretty good actress. “This party is pretty—”
“Stiff, I know,” Monica finishes. “And your outfits are genius. Screw these people. I get so tired of wasting outfits at these parties filled with nobodies. I wish I were brave enough to do it too, but Daddy would kill me.”
“Right? We were at another one earlier. Way better, with actual people there.” Mel sips more champagne as she looks at me. “We never even found out if the caviar is non-GMO.”
Monica nods. “I’m on that kick too, and only organics. Fruit, nuts, and sea salt included.”
The whole situation is ridiculous, and as I watch Mel simper along with Monica’s first-world problems, I can’t help but smile at my date. She’s the least pretentious person I’ve ever met, and I want to spend as much time with her as possible. She makes everything feel like an adventure.
She makes me feel comfortable no matter what we’re doing. Even here, surrounded by people who sneer at the buffet table I’d have killed for as a kid—hell, anything’s better than nothing when you’re a growing boy—and instead of cringing into myself, I’m enjoying this experience on the other side of the fence.
All because of her.
I want her so damn bad.
Chapter 23
Melanie
His eyes.
I want to push him down onto one of the fancy chaise longues and show him just how much I need him. Surrounded by strangers in public, surrounded by high freaking society—I definitely spotted a senator over by the bar—the only one I want to pay attention to is him.
The only party I care about is a party of two. A very private party with very private parts, and oh my God, I’m wet again just picturing it.
I smile at Monica and interrupt whatever inane thing she’s prattling on about. “It was great seeing you again, Mon, but Blake and I have to take off. We have somewhere else to be.”
Monica smiles. “Room for one more?”
“Not where we’re going.” I wink at her and she smiles.
“I don’t blame you one bit.” She air-kisses me. “Keep in touch.”
I seize Blake’s hand and practically run from the party, passing the guard we were dicks to. “I’m sorry you take so much shit from people.” The words rush out on our way past, and I feel instantly better. Even faking it, I didn’t like being a jerk to someone who was only doing his job.
But I don’t stop to hear his response, if there even was one. I’m too busy rushing to get us home.
The cab ride takes forever, but we arrive at Shelby’s in silence, keyed up from the ride over, from the whole evening, from the fact that this is Blake’s last night—and we both know it and feel it hanging over us like a thick fog we can’t see through. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get back home. All I know is that I have to put it all out there tonight and give him everything of myself that I can.
I need him to see the real me, to know the person I want to be.
And that person is the Mel who lives inside his eyes and arms and life. The relaxed person I am when I’m with him.
I lock the door behind us.
The coolness of the wall seeps into my chest before I realize he’s spun me around. And the air is kissing my thighs as he slowly drags my skirt up, up, all the way. He groans at the sight of nothing but my bare flesh.
Blake’s warm hand cups me from behind. His palm brushes against me enough to coat his skin with my arousal, but it’s not enough pressure to please me.
I push against his touch, hungry for more. “Please.”
“Please what?” His breath hits the back of my neck.
“More.”
“Oh, the woman who couldn’t keep her sexy hands to herself in the cab, who drove me fucking crazy, wants more now?” He presses against my ass. Even through the jeans, his arousal is apparent.
I push back against it. “Yeah.”
He rams two fingers inside me and my knees go weak, but I spread wider for him. A loud moan tears from my throat, and he kisses the back of my neck. “You got me hard in the cab to the party, and I’ve barely thought about anything else since. Because of you, Mel, I got a tattoo—I had a needle going in and out of me for hours tonight. I can’t wait to return the favor in a slightly different way. In and out. For hours.” His hand works me with a steady rhythm that curls my toes, and I sag against the wall.
God, it feels so good right there that I can’t move—
He slips his fingers out and I whirl around, furious over the loss. I’m unable to speak, but his lips claim mine with such brutal sensuality that all I want is more of this kiss. More of his hands threading through my hair, more of his body pressing me against the wall and grinding against me.
His tongue turns teasing, barely touching mine. He makes me chase his mouth to get what I want, but when I do, he pulls back and kisses his way down my neck. When he reaches my collarbone, he does something with his tongue that short-circuits my brain.
God, I love what this man does to me.
I love what this man does.
I love this man.
“I love you, Blake.” The words slip out like a thief in the night, and I hold my breath.
He takes an unsteady breath of his own. “You do?”
“You’re pretty amazing.”
He rests his forehead against mine for a second. “I love you, Mel.”
I smile. “Melanie.”
“No. You’re my Mel. You’ve always been there, and you’re the first woman I’ve ever wanted to always be there. I never want this to end.”
I wrap my arms around him, and he lifts me like I’m weightless. He carries me to the bedroom steadily but not hurrying.
I want him to hurry.
At least, until we’re naked.
He sets me on my feet just inside the bedroom door and flicks on the light. “I want to see every second of this,” he explains.
“I want it too.” Careful of his freshly tattooed shoulder, I slide his T-shirt up to his chest, where he takes it the rest of the way off. I kiss his pecs and trail my tongue between the center ridges of his abs until I reach his belly button and kneel.
His gaze sears itself into my memory. I’ll never forget the way he’s looking at me right now, even if I live to be a thousand years old. It’s tangible, this awe-filled, hungry stare. He’s holding himself back from devouring me because he wants me to get everything I want.
And what I want is for him to devour me.
One by one, I pop the buttons of his jeans. I keep my gaze on his, staring so deeply into his eyes that I feel like they could suck me in.
His jeans brush against my nipples on the way to the floor, and then his boxers do the same. He hisses in a breath when I take him in my mouth. Using my other hand, I stroke the base of his cock while lavishing the head with my tongue until his breathing becomes uneven and I can taste him even more.
He pulls out of my mouth, urging me to stand and walk with him to the bed.
He lies down on his back. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Mel.”
“What?” Uncertainty swirls though the desire, but I like the idea. I just want to hear him tell me what he wants.
“I want you to sit on my face and ride my tongue.”
My stomach tightens at the thought, but from arousal, not fear. Blake unlocks things inside me. He undoes me in a way that leads to freedom, not regret. With him, things that are taboo become…interesting. I straddle his belly and shimmy up until I’m on my knees, spread over his mouth. His breaths wash across the most sensitive parts of my body. He blows on my clit, the coldness making me shiver, but when I lower myself more, his mouth feels hot against me. I shudder with pleasure.
A dirty thrill courses through me as my hips start rolling of their own accord. Doing this feels like using him for my own pleasure. Normally oral sex makes me feel vulnerable, at the mercy of him and his mouth, but now that talented tongue is at my mercy. Now I’m the one on top, grinding around, taking his mouth in the way I need it, want it. I move forward more, pressing my hands to the mattress above his head. He reaches around and penetrates me with his fingers with one hand, using the other to play with my breasts.
I spread wider, moving my hips in an infinity pattern—which is fitting because, fuck, I want this forever.
Spread this far, he’s got access to everything, and soon it’s all I can do to brace myself and try not to collapse on his face when an orgasm crests through my core with waves of warmth and darkness. It brings my awareness to a few inches of flesh between my legs, aching, still pulsing around his fingers as he strokes me with his tongue and suckles with his lips.
Shakily, I lift one leg and move to his side. He wastes no time rolling on a condom.
“Stand and brace your hands on the bed, baby. I’m going to fuck you like I promised.”
Chapter 24
Blake
Her release still shivers through my chest. Every moment with her makes me want two more.
She loves me.
I want to live inside her. I’d reduce the world to our bodies making each other feel as good as we can, as often as we can.
It would be a hell of a way to live.
I can still taste her on my lips, and I lick them, waiting for her to stand and present that gorgeous ass to me. Even knowing how sexy she is, I still bite my lip when she bends and spreads. Fuck me. Everything this woman is makes me want to be better for her so I can be worthy. Smart, strong, passionate, capable, fun, beautiful. She’s so damn perfect that I don’t deserve her. But I’m not going to question my luck too much. I just thank God while positioning myself behind her.
I’m lost. One hard, long thrust, and I’m buried deep in the only woman in my world.
I give a few steady strokes to let her get used to my size in this position. She’s already tight, but a woman tightens more when she’s come, and I don’t want to accidentally hurt her by not giving her a second to adjust.
Her lower back relaxes a little, and soon her hips move in a counterpart rhythm to my thrusts.
Now I don’t hold back. I go hard and slow, matching my rhythm to the cues she gives with her body. For a while, we live only inside the movements of our bodies, the beating of our hearts. Her “I love you” is inside my veins, pounding inside my chest with every thrust of my hips, and I might explode from the memory of her eyes when she said it, so I focus on her body. On the way she moves. On the way I move with her. Skin on skin.
My fingers dig into her hips, using them to pull her back into me when I penetrate her again.
She moves from her hands to her forearms, squeaking out little yes’s and oh God’s. I go faster, the increased friction heating us both. I want to come, but I also want to stay inside her, making her feel like this forever. I release her hips and trail my hands over the globes of her ass, running my thumbs up and down her crack. She tenses.
“Relax. I’ll never do anything you don’t want,” I reassure her, but keep running my thumbs up and down, slick with her wetness, intent only on giving
her more pleasure. I stimulate her in places she probably didn’t even know could feel good.
“I think I want it,” she moans.
“You think?”
She looks over her shoulder at me, eyes dark and wild with lust. “Just make me feel good, Blake. I know you know how to do it. Do whatever you want. I trust you completely. I’m yours.”
Christ.
I reach around and start rubbing her clit with one hand. I slow my hips to a sensual grind. She’s mine? How the hell did I get so lucky? I need to live up to the trust she’s showing me by making this amazing for her. My hand’s soaked from her, making it easy to stimulate her clit as fast and light as I want.
When her body relaxes again, I coat my thumb with her wetness. As I pull out, I push my thumb gently into the tight ring, just an inch or so. Then I push all the way back inside her until my hips hit her thighs and wait, letting her relax and get used to the unfamiliar feeling.
“You OK, baby?” I ease my thumb in another inch, keeping the hand on her clit moving, giving her something to focus on.
“I… That feels…” She pushes back against my hand, moaning when my thumb’s all the way inside too. “I feel so full.”
“Good?” I give a few slow thrusts of my cock while barely wiggling my thumb inside her.
She groans. “Yeah.”
Encouraged, I alternate slowly, pulling out my thumb while pushing into her pussy, taking my cock nearly all the way out while putting my thumb back inside. I don’t stopping rubbing her clit with my other hand until her hands fist the sheets and she collapses farther, chest on the mattress, unable to hold herself up.
“Don’t stop. More. So good.” Her voice is low, so damn low-pitched and earthy.
I push everything inside her at once and she moans loud and long.
I do it again.
And again.
Soon she’s back up on her hands, pushing into me with everything she’s got. Her arms shake from the exertion.
So I give her everything I’ve got too, rutting into her tense body with every ounce of finesse my hips can give her. I try to hit that sweet spot inside her, gently pressing down with my thumb, increasing the power of the friction. Her cries fill the air, and I press everything deep, once, hard.