by Kira Blakely
I wasn’t even sure I could take it.
Closing my eyes, I pulsed forward, bringing my tongue along the tip of his staff, tracing it over the tip and tasting the first of his cum. He moaned evenly, keeping his hands on my head, playing with my hair. I kept going, tracing my tongue around and around the tip, before bringing more and more of my mouth around it. I could feel the pulse of him through the veins. Still, as I pushed forward, I had to open my mouth wider to accommodate his incredible girth.
Deep-throating him, I pressed his cock against the far darkness of my mouth, inhaling him. I could feel him quiver and shake with the pleasure of it.
“Fuck, Sarah,” he breathed, moaning. “Jesus Christ. What are you doing to me?”
But I didn’t want to stop. Slowly, evenly, I brought my mouth back, gliding the tongue around and around him, nearly all the way to the tip. And then, I did it again, deep-throating him, listening to him roar with pleasure from above.
While I was toying with the tip of his cock, he lifted my light frame onto the countertop and spread my legs wide. I huffed with surprise, still tasting his cum on my lips. With all the strength of a firefighter, his biceps flashing in the light, he tore at my dress and tossed it to the floor, revealing my breasts below.
“This is what I’ve been dreaming about since I first saw you,” he whispered, bringing his face toward my tits. He wrapped his tongue around their darkness, nipping at them. And then he switched sides, sucking at me, needing me. I placed my hands around his dark blond hair, easing my fingers through the strands. It seemed our bodies had been crying out for one another for years. And we had only now found the truth.
In these moments, Josh was a figment of another person’s imagination. He couldn’t have ever been my boyfriend.
He couldn’t have made me feel this way.
Never. Not in a million years.
Theo placed his hands on the insides of my thighs and began to ease his fingers toward my clit, spreading my legs still wider. The soft, pink darkness between my legs grew wet, insistent. He placed his fingers at the tightness of my clit, then pulsed inside, spreading me wide. My eyes grew to be saucers, staring into his. In return, his eyes were demanding, yet comforting—needing what my body could give him.
Needing my noise.
“God, baby,” I cried out. “Yes.” I reached for his cock, wrapping it firmly with my left hand—barely able to hold its thickness. “Take me. Now. You need to fuck me now.”
From that moment on, my mind went blank. I gave myself over to pleasure, to the beauty our bodies could create together. I gave myself over to his beating heart, to his pumping blood, to his thick, pulsing cock.
I knew nothing else.
Chapter 9
Theo
I couldn’t take it a moment longer. With her fingers around my cock, I grew rock hard. My brain grew animalistic, wild, knowing only that I yearned to fuck her into oblivion. With a fit of rage, of power, I pulsed my cock against the dark pink opening between her legs, gazing into her warm, yet frightened eyes.
They took me right back to that moment in the bathroom, when I’d found her poised, prepared to die.
And then, I pulsed into her, shoving into the dark wetness and finding refuge on the other side. I began to fuck her, thrusting again and again, and watching as her ass shifted against the countertop. Her head ducked beneath the cabinet, knocking slightly against the wall. Her eyes closed with the intense pleasure, the pain of it. My cock was too big for her; it stretched her thin. And yet, her fingernails reached around my shoulders and snuck into my skin and nearly drew blood.
“You’re a tiger,” I whispered to her. Reaching low, I wrapped my mouth around her tight nipples, knocking my tongue against the brown stub, and watching as her face grew lax with pleasure.
Her body was my instrument, doing whatever I wanted it to do, creating music as it linked with mine. Abruptly, I changed the tune, lifting her from the counter. Her legs wrapped tight around my waist. Her hands eased around to my chest, drawing scratch marks down my skin. I knew she was impressed with my muscles, the tightness of my pectorals, my biceps. Her eyes flickered across them, drinking me in.
Carrying her to the bedroom, I wrapped my lips around her bottom one, sucking at it. She cooed with pleasure. When we reached the bed, I dropped her onto the comforter, watching as her breasts shook with the impact. Her body was tight, her pussy lips bright pink from my fingers.
She spread her legs wide, a greeting, and said, “Do you feel thanked yet?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. I think we’re hours away from that.”
Pushing forward, I brought my mighty frame over her slight one, inhaling her light, flowery scent. I bit at her shoulder, then traced a line with my tongue up her neck, then down between her breasts. I kissed her from her belly button down to the soft center, gazing up at her, into her eyes.
After a moment’s pause, I brought my tongue along the folds of her perfect, peach lips, diving into the center darkness. She gasped, arching her back. I held onto her hips, keeping her tight against me. And then I toyed with her, nibbling at her clit and sucking at the hard knob, before tracing a circle inside her. She cried out, clinging to my hair.
“You like that?” I asked, breaking the seductive kiss. “You want more of it?”
“I want you inside me,” she cooed back, lifting me toward her. “Come on, baby. I need you to fill me. I want to show you what you mean to me. Please.”
I couldn’t wait. I pulsed within her, filling her once more, and fucking her from above, not holding back any longer. She reached up and clung to the headboard. Her lips parted, her tongue inched from between them, showing her sincere pleasure. I could feel her heart, pattering like a rabbit’s against my own ribcage.
Suddenly, she shoved at my chest, turning me over. I kept myself within her as she rose above me, straddling me. Her long, thin legs were milky and smooth, adjusting against the sides of me. She pressed her hands against my pectorals, clinging to me, and then she began to hump me: riding my huge, pulsing, rock-hard cock, her breasts flashing up and down. After a moment, I reached up and clung to her large, round ass, keeping her tight against me, watching as her pink pussy lips spread wide to swallow me whole.
The pleasure was electric.
I knew I was going to come. I could sense it, could feel my mind falling away. Reaching up, I placed two fingers against her clit, forcing my cock to stride up against her G-spot—igniting both pleasure spots. Her eyes shot open wide, gazing into mine. She knew what I wanted: for us to come together.
I thrust my cock as far as it would go into her soft nothingness. This did the trick. As I began to pulse, falling into orgasm, she fell with me, riding an impossible cloud of pleasure alongside me. She began to gasp, to moan. And then, she fell silent, bringing her body forward and pressing her tits against my chest. We were still connected, my cock taking its last moments inside of her.
And then, we were released.
I wrapped my arms around her for a long time, laying in silence. She was still quivering, allowing the orgasm to roll through her again and again. Finally, she looked up at me, kissing the base of my neck. She whispered, “Did I convince you of how grateful I am?”
I chuckled slightly, sweeping my hands through her hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more honored as a fireman.”
“I love this accent of yours,” she said, adjusting herself against me. “You’re from the South, right? I remember when someone moved into this house. Saw the license plate. Alabama, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, wondering how much of myself I could give to this girl. Could I tell her I’d left Alabama because my job had gotten out of hand there? Could I tell her that I still had bad dreams about my past—that the mere fact I’d been able to save her had made me think differently about my life, about the way I could interact with the world?
I didn’t know.
But something about her made me trust her.
�
��I came here to escape some things,” I began. “But it feels like I ran into something that feels pretty all right.”
“Indianapolis is a cozy city,” Sarah said, kissing me again. “I think, with my help, this can become your home. I think you’ll see that you made the right choice, coming here.”
“You’re saying this isn’t the last time I’ll see you?” I asked, grinning.
“Don’t be dumb,” Sarah responded, giggling. “Let’s get some sleep. And then, let’s wake up and do it all over again. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Epilogue
Theo
The next several days became an endless stream of sex and alcohol and laughing in bed, in between shifts. I’d begun to see my life in two dimensions. My Alabama life and my Indiana life. And I was beginning to see all the ways my Indiana life was good for me. How it was rejuvenating me, body and soul.
One afternoon, after thrusting her against the countertop and spreading Sarah’s legs wide, I kissed the nape of her neck and peered up at her. My pulsing, rock-hard cock was in her hands, poised, ready. And her eyes glittered with desire for me.
This must have been the fiftieth time we’d fucked in less than two weeks. And I, in no way, was ready to see her go.
“Do you want to move in with me?” I asked.
Her nostrils flared, and her glittering eyes searched mine, swallowing me whole. After a long pause, she nodded.
“How could I resist building a life with you?” she whispered. “How could I say no?”
Overjoyed, I thrust my cock into the soft, dark folds within her, fucking her tenderly, wrapping my thick biceps around her thin frame. This was a different form of sex: it was making love. She held onto me tightly, the man who had saved her life. The man who would ensure that she was taken care of. Forever, if it came to that.
And god, I hoped it did.
We moved her things in the next week—the few things she’d accumulated since the fire, that is. Across the street, the property had been demolished, with a construction crew coming and digging up the last of the foundation. “Something else will be built there, now,” Sarah told me once, over dinner. “Something better than what I had. Something whole. Something like us.”
We rarely spoke about her ex-boyfriend, a kid I later learned was named Josh. All she told me was that she was so grateful she hadn’t died, as that would have been something Josh would have put on himself. “He would have thought my love for him was just too much to bear,” she giggled, stirring a pot of pasta and a side skillet of sauce. She pointed, chuckling. “You know, this was what I was making myself that night…” She trailed off, her eyes growing far away.
During moments like this, moments when the memories and the fear ebbed at her perfect mind, I rose up, wrapped my firm arms around her, and held her close. I kissed the back of her neck until she giggled, protesting it was too ticklish. Shoving the pots and pans to the side, and turning off the stove, I rushed her into the bedroom, unable to resist her. She gazed up at me with huge, trusting eyes. I ripped the dress from her shoulders, revealing her gorgeous, thin frame below. Her breasts fit my hands perfectly, two large, white balloons, light and gorgeous.
We fucked into the evening, nibbling at one another’s skin. For nearly twenty minutes, she wrapped her perfect lips around my cock and deep-throated me, sucking at my juices and gazing up at me. I brought my hands around her head, stroking her hair.
This was the girl for me.
At work, I grew friendlier with the guys. Mason, Dillon, and I began to exercise together after work, all of us reaching new heights on the weight machines, and becoming close, like brothers, after the fires and accidents we had to head to, daily, as a part of our job. I saw my actual brother often, with Sarah and I heading to their place for BBQs and movie nights and long, whiskey-addled talks. He knew what I’d gone through in Alabama, but he didn’t force me into the conversations—could sense I was moving on.
I was so grateful for that.
On the last day of summer, Sarah and I cradled each other on the new porch swing out front, with her sipping wine and me, whiskey. The sunset streamed toward us, through the gaps between the houses across the way. Pressing her hands against my chest, she told me, “If I hadn’t had the worst day of my life, I wouldn’t have ever had the best days.”
“There are still so many best days to come,” I told her, stroking her hair.
“We can do whatever we want with them,” she whispered back.
“We can get married, if we want to. We can get pregnant,” I said, eyeing her curiously. How would she react?
She just cradled me closer, drawing herself tighter against my chest. A small, trickling tear eased itself down her face. She looked more gorgeous, in the soft light of late summer, than I’d ever seen her. I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t find her more beautiful than the day before, as she’d constantly be growing and changing alongside me.
We were in this together.
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What’s to Come
Hey, Kiralites! Ready to hear about some AWESOME upcoming projects?
First, you should be on the lookout for Dangerous Desires – A romance anthology PERFECT for a cozy night in this fall. It’s a bundle with featured authors such as yours truly, Tia Siren, Chance Carter, Holly Hart, and MUCH more! Go pre-order it today!
Another Kira project you should keep your eyes peeled for: BLAKELY AFTER DARK! My current work borders the line between erotica and romance. I’ve always wanted to give erotica a try and just write some dirty little quick reads that are meant to simply give you a quick escape. My new series will be 60-page-long books. It will be based on a billionaire island retreat where anything goes and everyone is required to wear masks. What partner will you end up with? The series release is one week from publication of this book. They will most likely be in the erotica section of Amazon.
Me and some friend have also started another series called The Bad Boys of 69th Street. This is set to launch sometime in November. All of the covers will look the same, but will have different models with different author names. It’s about building 69 in New York on the corner of 69th and 5th Ave. There’s 69 floors and on each floor lives a different billionaire. My billionaire lives on floor number... Well, you get the idea.
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About the Author
All I’ve ever wanted to do for years is write my own books. I spent an ungodly amount of time ghostwriting a few bestsellers for other authors before realizing it was time to start taking credit for my own work.
My personal struggles in life, love, and money have driven me to start doing what I love most: Writing full time.
I started writing when I was a teenager. I fell in love with a boy who didn’t quite love me back--admittedly, I was terribly insecure and slightly overweight--and the entire experience drove me to start practicing my craft. Writing helped me to escape, to reimagine a world where happy endings actually existed. If I couldn’t have the love of my life, I’d just create Mr. Right in my romance novels… with maybe a few embellishments.
I’ve found my calling. Having the experience of doing what I love most as a full time job has given me happiness and conf
idence galore. And, soon after I found those, I was able to find companionship. Shout out to my guy and my kitty!
I so hope you enjoy my books! I wish you the very best in this crazy thing called life.
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