by Melissa Blue
“Don't let go,” he whispered in a gruff tone. “No matter what, Alyssa. Hold on.”
He kissed her quick then tried his best to fuck them both into oblivion. Again and again he pushed and pulled her away from his cock. Her pussy was so wet and tight the slick friction along the head and shaft of his dick curled his toes. The sting in his scalp barely registered as she balled a hand in his hair, but she held on as he pounded into her.
His shoulder muscles started to burn—and thank God—he felt her squeeze and tug his shaft with every thrust. He had to hold out long enough.
Another balls deep stroke and he couldn't move, not when her pussy held him like an angry fist, pulsing around him from tip to base. Alyssa panted his name as her orgasm worked its way through both of them.
A groan crawled deep from his gut and he jerked inside her in a broken rhythm until his climax took over all thought and feeling in his body. He had to follow the delicious pull. Coming was simply inevitable as the last of her quakes softened around him. A sharp intake of breath and he tensed as every muscle strummed with his orgasm.
Spent, his head, his body continued to buzz, but blindly he found her mouth again, kissing away the soft moans. He had to taste her. He had to make sure every part of them continued to touch and be fused.
He'd never needed that before—the need for that connection made him dizzy. Fear couldn't settle in, and he wouldn't let it. She felt right.
They stayed that way for a long while—him holding her up against the wall and her wrapped around him, trembling. Eventually they would have to untangle their limbs, but he kept kissing her until they absolutely had to break away for air.
CHAPTER SIX
Alyssa was drowning in a pool of lust still flowing in her body and the best post-coital daze of her life. Her hands were curled into his strands but her legs had gone limp. He kept her upright against the wall though she could feel the strain in his muscles, or maybe his own climax had left him a trembling mess.
She hoped for the latter, because if she was the only one bowled over by the experience...
No.
Nope.
Enjoy the haze.
Her head wasn't going to ruin this. It felt right to have sweat dripping between her shoulder blades as she tried to breathe instead of moan. Even better as he murmured against her mouth while his fingers seemed to dig deeper into her hips. The best part of their coupling happened when he shuddered and groaned again.
She swallowed. Her throat seemed to crack from dryness. Soon her stomach would roar from hunger. Both were sure signs of fantastic sex. All of it was proof that she shouldn't listen to her head when it came to men.
“Blaine?” she croaked then remembered his joke from earlier. “You okay?”
“Ask me again in five minutes,” he croaked back.
“What happens then?”
“I'll feel my legs.”
She laughed and let one hand roam down his spine. Sweat and the bunch of muscle greeted her fingertips. He straightened, and she felt the flex of every sinew. It was the most arousing but innocuous thing she'd ever experienced.
That was until he met her gaze. A flush had rode up his neck, complimenting his ruffled hair, his dark eyes. No dimples in sight. His stoic expression was too intent. This was the man the smiles had hidden.
“Good news, bad news?” she asked. He only lifted his brows in answer. “My shower has one of those seat thingies.”
The smallest cracks of humor spider-webbed through his hard expression and his cheek indented. “We have to move is the bad news.” He inhaled deeply. “Hold on again.”
She did. Her breasts crushed to his chest and she wrapped her legs around him right above his ass. It was wonderful to have all her soft bits flushed against every firm bit of him.
He didn't settle them down until he had the water going, the perfect temp and spray. Finally, he leaned against the wall behind the small seat. Steam rose around them as they sat quietly.
Much to her surprise she didn't feel the need to cover anything. Though... “I should take my panties all the way off.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I owe you another pair. I ripped them a little,” he said then gripped the thin straps to finish the job. “You're welcome,” he muttered.
She only stared at him for a moment then laughed. “Thank you.” She glanced back and the water was mostly hitting the drain, but moving the direction of the spray required getting up.
Maybe he read that in her actions. “Five minutes. Relax.”
How could she? Sweat and the damp air made the fine hairs along his chest glisten. She pressed her hands over his pecs. His stomach muscles jerked. She counted and there were eight, not six defined ab muscles. Her legs were in the way since she straddled his lap but she was sure he'd have those sexy indents along his hips.
She was naked and sitting on a football player’s lap post sex. Relax? She wanted...hell. Alyssa closed her eyes and groaned.
“What?” he asked.
“I don't have uh...protection.”
She took a chance and opened one eye to glance at his face. His brows were furrowed again. She held her breath and hoped he didn't ask when was the last time she'd needed to have a box of condoms on standby.
Finally he said, “All right.”
He lifted her from his lap and put her on the small shower seat—more like a shelf he'd somehow had balanced them both on. Intent, she watched him push open the door then discard the condom in the trash next to the toilet. His movements were economic but graceful.
How often did he find himself naked in someone's home? Someone he barely knew? The thought was intrusive and uncomfortable. The fantasy of the moment darkened around the edges.
She stood, breaking her gaze. A sigh filled with satisfaction spilled out when she adjusted the showerhead. Her day had been long and the water was manna.
She stole another look over her shoulder. Blaine closed the shower door behind him, his lids low. Her night might be the same. She twisted to the side, not able to tear her gaze away this time as he plucked her loofah and liquid soap. There was no mistaking what he planned to do, especially when he reached around her to moisten the sponge.
He started with her neck. She tilted her head down to give him better access. Water and soap slicked down her spine and his mouth brushed along one shoulder.
“Now I know the scent I couldn't place earlier.” The murmur of his words worked along her shoulder blade. “Almonds.”
“What?”
“You smelled sweet and I couldn't place the scent—almonds. I like it.”
His teeth followed the words that time and she had to put a hand against the glass to hold herself up. “Oh.”
His fingers, instead of the loofah, slipped between her ass cheeks. She gasped since he didn't stop until he'd pressed a finger into her pussy. A quick sweep, really a tease before he cupped her from behind.
“How clean do you want to be?” He sounded so reasonable while he drew the sponge across her abdomen.
She swallowed. “Very.”
Blaine lifted one hand up and pushed the spray away, and the other worked its way up to her breasts.
“We don't...” She broke off with another moan.
“I know. We don't need a condom for a shower.”
Her mind filled with a slew of naughty things they could do while soapy and naked. He cupped her breasts and used the soap to do exactly what she'd imagined. He pulled and lightly pinched the flesh, leaving both her nipples and her slippery and wet. Though they may have initially skipped proper foreplay, Blaine was more than making up for it.
Every inch of her skin tingled and felt like tiny pinpricks of sensation. Once again he reached up, but this time he detached the showerhead. She gasped at the soft pelts of water over her flesh.
“Just wait,” he said. His mouth found her earlobe. “It feels even better after you've come.”
He washed away the soap but continued to lower the attachment. “O
pen for me. I don't want to miss a single spot.”
“You are a very dangerous man.”
“Let's try something.” He extended the chord and then chuckled. “And, yeah, I'm about to be.”
He tugged her backward until they were on the small seat.
“Should I be scared?”
“Yes.” He spread her legs by opening his. “Lean back. I won't let you fall.”
After she did, she twisted her neck to get a good look at him. The smile had returned. “Being naughty makes you happy?”
He held her gaze, and she'd swear there was a twinkle in his eyes. “How could you tell?”
“I don't know. You look and sound so pleased.”
He planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “I am.”
She turned away to hide the sudden blush heating her face.
“Now let's see.” He adjusted the setting on the showerhead so the water pulsed instead of a streaming steadily.
She expected him to hit her right on the money and decimate her world but he started at her breasts. She shifted and his cock twitched between them. She glanced down and saw the head peeking out between her thighs. It pointed a bit to the left. She scooted up on his pelvis then reached down.
His hiss sounded loud in her ear, but she closed her hand tight over the tip. “I made you promises I intend to keep,” he said. “Hands off my cock.” He paused. “I can't believe I said that to a naked woman sitting on my lap.”
She chuckled. “So I should disregard what you said then?”
Instead of answering he moved her hand to rest on her thighs and she couldn't argue because finally he positioned the spray between her legs. Without thinking she arched her hips for him to hit the right spot.
He tutted and moved the water to kiss the inside of her left thigh. “I was getting there. Haven't you heard of a build up?”
She squeezed her legs because the sensation was new, different. Her skin still felt sensitive and a buzz had started in the back of her head. “I see what you mean.”
Slowly he moved to the other side, up and around—everywhere but her clit. The hood was so swollen and aching. She squirmed and his cock seemed to follow her every wiggle. But she could only focus on what he wasn't doing. How good it felt. So when he finally brought the pulsating water to her clit, she had to grip both of her thighs to keep from sliding to the shower's floor.
His mouth feathered along her earlobe. “Once you're clean, really clean, I'm going to do this with my mouth.”
He opened his legs an inch more and she couldn't remember her name as the water pulsed again and again. Her back arched on its own accord. The build of the orgasm was different. There was contact but the pressure wasn't firm just persistent. A ghost of sensation over and over. Blaine flexed his wrist back and forth, extending the phantom touch along the hood to the most sensitive spot.
“You're beautiful, Alyssa. The flush of your skin, your moans—everything about you. And you're letting me have all of you, tonight.” He nipped her earlobe and kept whispering, detailing all the ways he wanted to fuck her.
Normally she wasn't a fan of dirty talk, but his voice was made for words like lick, taste and come, especially when he'd demonstrate with his mouth along her neck and the shell of her ear.
One second she was shuddering from the intensity of the water, him, and the next a scream tore from her throat as she came. He directed the stream to her inner thigh and she trembled as gooseflesh prickled her skin.
He'd been right. The water was downright arousing. Even her feet tingled with sensual awareness as water sluiced down. It was only fair to reach between her legs and squeeze the tip of his cock again.
His groan was deep enough to clench her stomach at the rough sound. She stroked his taut, wet flesh and another quake rocked through her. It wasn't fair he could so easily tip her world, but she was going to make them even.
And Blaine wasn't stopping her. Not this time. Soon his hips were rocking up into her palm. She stroked him from base to tip, slowly, putting her world back to right. He groaned his appreciation as she teased the pre-cum out. Groaned longer, deeper when his cock turned to hot steel. The shaft darkened at least two shades, blushing, before cum spilled over her hand and some on her thighs.
He wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her into him. “You couldn't wait,” he accused.
His teeth sank into her shoulder. Didn't hurt but she shuddered again. “Didn't hear you complaining.”
“Couldn't speak.”
And she noticed he could only talk now in two word sentences. She smiled. “And you made a mess. I think you'll have to clean me again.”
He laughed. How she loved the sound of it. “You don't say? Let me see to that.”
“Is that your way of trying to stay the night?”
He tensed. “Do you want me to go?”
That's not what she meant. “No. Do you want to leave?” Is that what you usually do?
He placed a hand on her stomach and held her tighter into him. “I'm here until you kick me out.” His teeth scraped along her neck. “I'm here with you, Alyssa. That's all I want.”
She gasped at the honesty. “You'll start with the mess and then?”
“Whatever you want.”
Her heart kicked. She wanted him. “You. Then food.”
He laughed. “Yeah. I like you.” His hand went lower. “But first let's see about cleaning you up.”
And he did. Twice.
CHAPTER SIX
“Must have been a good party,” a feminine voice reached through the darkness of Blaine's living room.
There was no jolt of surprise that his mother was up or had been awakened by his arrival. She was a light sleeper.
“The party was nice,” he said simply. One didn't go about telling his mother he'd spent his night and early morning in a woman's bed. Well, couch, shower then bed, if one wanted to be technical.
The flat screen flashed with images but the sound was muted. Her hand looked pale against the dark blue couch as she pushed herself upright. The curtains were closed on the Oakland hills. The living room held the tiniest scent of rubbing alcohol and bleach.
He tossed his keys on the coffee table and settled into the shorter couch across from her. His jeans felt stiff from the spilled liquor and soda. He was pretty sure he smelled of sex and Alyssa's almond scented soap. He was tired, but not hungry since she'd fed him, but still he brought all his focus on his mother.
“How'd your day go?” he asked.
His mother narrowed her blue eyes on him then tsked. “You look exhausted so I know you're only being polite. A sign I raised you right, and I will preen about that for a week. Go to bed. You don't have to look after me.”
He dug up a smile for her. “That's really my way of asking if you gave Harriet shit today. She's threatened to quit.”
“She should.” Her tone was clipped. “You're the only one who thinks I need help.”
He glanced down to hide the wince, and maybe to keep his gaze from skipping to the bandages on his mother's right hand. “You're in recovery. Recover. Let Harriet clean and do her job.” He added the only thing that could make her slow down, “If she doesn't have work to do...”
Harriet was a divorcee in her early thirties who had two children to feed. The part-time work provided her everything she needed since alimony and child support was sporadic at best.
His mother tilted her head. “You weren't at a party.”
Blaine placed both hands over his face. There was a legitimate blush heating his face and neck. “Mom, I'm going to leave you to sleep.”
“I think the last time I saw you blush you were in grade school.”
Dropping his hands, he scooted to the edge of the seat and tried to hold her gaze. “Really tired. I should go to bed.”
She wagged a finger at him. “You should have made your escape three minutes ago.”
“Mom.” Her name sounded like a plea.
She put her left hand over her right a
nd rubbed her fingers over her bandages. “I really want grandchildren and for the first time, you're acting like I might get some. You're blushing and evading questions.” She paused. “I'm fragile and will take any sign of hope right now.”
His mother had reached the point where she could joke. Blaine didn't think he ever could. “Not funny.”
“I have diabetes. It's not a death sentence. I got a wakeup call and lost some fingers in the process. If it helps me to poke fun at the situation, then I should. But that's not important.”
“What is then? You're living with me because you can't work. Not anymore. Not until you get back on your feet.”
“Which I'm grateful to still have.”
He winced and there was no hiding it. Blaine used charm as a shield and sometimes a weapon. He got that from his mother, but a few months back, she'd received a diagnosis and a recommendation to amputate two fingers. There were warnings of slow healing, the threat of gangrene and a need for a life change.
For all of his mother's life, she'd eaten decadent desserts and it had caught up to her because genetics were a bitch. They were predisposed, blah, blah. And now no matter how far he traveled, he'd come home to his mother who healed slow, who could lose the rest of her hand or her arm, and at the moment could only live vicariously through him.
And knowing that, he said, “The party was nice. I did meet someone...” Saying nice again didn't quite cut it.
Being with Alyssa made him remember the man he was. The Blaine he knew wasn't filled with worry or nameless aches or bored or restless. If he didn't need to hit the gym in about two hours, he would have stayed.
He never stayed the night.
He would remember her name.
Fuck, he'd made sure to get her number before he'd left.
Blaine glanced at his mother. Her brows were up and a smile teased the corners of her mouth. She did look hopeful.
He asked, “Why did you think I wasn't at a party?”
“You looked grim when you left, and I know my son. Having to hear about a wedding for half a night would have made you look just as grim walking back through that door.” She drew her hand into her lap. The Snoopy pjs she had on were well-worn. “And you were smiling. Big.”