After This Night

by Lauren Blakely

  She pressed her teeth into her bottom lip, and murmured, “Yes. I can feel your eyes on me.”

  “Good. Spread your legs,” he said, and heat flared across his skin as she parted her legs, opening them wide for him.

  He bit back a moan as he caught sight of the small scrap of fabric and the wetness on the cotton panel. This woman was so responsive, so aroused by him that it was almost a crime not to bury his face between her legs right now, send her hips shooting up into his mouth, and fuck her with his tongue.

  “This is also how you’ll feel me,” he said, circling her ankles with each hand, then gripping them, and holding them down, her feet bound by him.

  “Oh,” she said, arching her hips and rocking into the cushion before she’d even touched herself.

  “Now tell me how much you want to be touching yourself right now.”

  “I’m so turned on,” she said, and her voice was hot and whispery.

  “Are you aching to be touched right now, Julia?”

  “Yes,” she moaned, her mouth falling open as she licked her lips. “Can I?”

  “Do it,” he said. “Leave your panties on and slide those fingers between your legs.”

  She dropped her hand into the waistband, then lower, then lower still, and she drew a sharp breath when she made contact. God, it was a beautiful sight, her lips falling open as her fingers reached her pussy. He wanted those fingers to be his, he wanted his mouth on her, his cock inside her, but he wanted this torture more. He craved watching her, knowing how she looked when she was all alone. He wanted to witness how her body reacted to her own touch.

  “Tell me how it feels,” he said, as he gripped her ankles, her legs unbearably sexy in those heels.

  “So good,” she moaned. “So wet. My fingers are sliding all over, and I’m imagining it’s your tongue.”

  Sharp agony rang in his body, and every instinct told him to tear off her panties and fuck her hard. But that wasn’t the point. He needed the torment of seeing her naked body writhing in pleasure. He was hungry for the waiting, for the tension that gripped him as he forced himself to hold out until she’d already come from her own hand.

  “And how does my tongue feel right now, Julia?” he asked as he stared greedily at her hand, moving quickly beneath the lace. “How does my tongue feel on your sweet little clit as I suck it between my lips and make you writhe into my mouth?”

  She arched her hips into her hand, and moaned loudly, digging her heels firmly into the cushion. “Your tongue is so fucking good on me. I’m picturing riding your face right now,” she said in a smoky voice that betrayed all her lust, all her want, and made him ache deep in his bones to touch her.

  “Take off your panties. I need to see all of your pussy if you’re getting this worked up so quickly,” he told her.

  She grabbed at the waistband, and pulled them down quickly to her knees. He tugged them off the rest of the way, taking them in one hand. “I need to smell you while you do this,” he said, and brought her panties to his nose, inhaling her. The scent of her was a direct line to his cock, painfully hard beneath the denim of his jeans, begging to be freed.

  “How do I smell?” she asked as she dipped her hand back down between her legs.

  “So. Fucking. Aroused.”

  “I am,” she said in broken breaths as she stroked faster.

  “Let your legs fall wide open, Julia,” he told her. “I want to see everything you do to yourself.”

  She spread her legs further, so beautiful, so vulnerable, so open on his balcony. A black scrap of silk over her eyes, heels on her feet, and her body that he desired every single damn hour of the day, here for him. He could take her now; he could yank down his jeans and thrust inside of her, sliding into the warm, wet home of her pussy. But he wasn’t going to. Not yet.

  “Are you touching yourself, Clay?” she asked as her fingers flew across herself.

  “Do you want me to be? You can’t see me.”

  “I know. But I can picture it. I want to know that your cock is fucking your fist right now,” she said as she rocked her hips into her hand.

  “You dirty girl with a dirty mouth,” he said, with utter appreciation for the way she talked.

  “I am, and you love it,” she said, and the moment shifted from her submissiveness to her taking over somehow. He hadn’t expected this, but then, she had a way of surprising him. “You love every filthy word from my mouth. You love watching me fuck myself, don’t you?”

  “God, I fucking love it so much,” he said, hitching in a breath, and pleasure ripped through his bloodstream at the sights and sounds. “I can’t think of anything that can get me off more than the woman I want fucking herself in front of me,” he said, as he unbuttoned his jeans, slid down the zipper and let them fall to the ground. “I’ve been dying to know what you look like when you’re getting yourself off to me. Now I’m going to find out,” he said, rubbing his cock through his briefs. He wanted to close his eyes and give in to the pleasure, but there was no way he was missing this moment as her fingers raced across her swollen lips. “Show me. Show me now,” he said, as he pushed down his boxer briefs and took his cock into his hand.

  And there it was. A loud cry of pleasure. An exquisite moan as her back bowed and her hips shot up into her hand, her fingers flying fast and furiously. “This,” she said, breathing hard, and erratic. “This is me picturing you licking me, eating me, fucking me, taking me. Any way you want. That’s what I’m imagining now, Clay. Oh God, I want you so badly to fuck me now.” She gasped, and her words were drowned out by her cries of pleasure as she rocked into her own hand, coming hard and beautifully for him.

  In seconds, he was over her, untying the blindfold, watching her eyelids flutter open. Her pretty green eyes were hazy with lust. Never had he seen more heat in her gaze than in that moment. She’d loved every second as much as he had. He locked eyes with her as he reached for her hand, bringing it to his mouth and sucking on her index finger first, then her middle finger, licking her from her fingertips down to her knuckles so he could taste every drop of her.

  “Perfect. You’re so fucking perfect,” he said, as he savored the taste of her desire in his mouth.

  “Do you like?” she asked, all breathy, awash in the afterglow of her orgasm.

  He shook his head, moving closer to her. “I love,” he whispered, pressing the word softly against her lips. He kissed her eyelids, his way of telling her thank you for trusting him. Then he kissed her cheek, her neck, and her ear. “You’re beautiful all the time, and so beautiful when you come with me.”

  “So was it everything you hoped it would be? Your fantasy?”

  “Gorgeous, you are my fantasy come true,” he said as he grasped her hand and wrapped it around his erection. Immediately, she stroked him, her soft fingers providing some kind of relief. He drew a deep breath, fueled by the electricity that shot through him from her touch. “I want to see those lips wrapped around me.”

  She let go, grabbed his hips, and pulled him down to her, lifting her mouth to him. The moment she made contact, he grabbed the top of the lounge chair. He had to hold back because all he wanted now was to fuck her mouth hard, and come in her throat. His bones were humming, his blood was rushing thick and hot, and he wanted the same release she’d had.

  “No,” he said, stopping her a few seconds later.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want it like this,” he said and pulled her up to her knees, then pushed her down on all fours. “Because I need to touch you at the same time.”

  He guided his cock back to her lips, and she opened wide, taking him all the way in, her warmth surrounding him. He gripped the back of her head with his hand, her hair spilling over his fingers as he moved in her mouth. He slid his other hand along her back, enjoying the soft, smooth skin, then down to her ass, spreading his hand over one perfect check, and squeezing.

  She caught her breath from that motion, even with her mouth full. He dropped his hand lower, sl
ipping it between her legs. “Think you can handle being touched again right after you came?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Because I was so jealous of your fingers the whole time I was watching you, and now I want my hand on your sweet pussy,” he said, sliding his fingers over her lips, from her clit down through her wet folds, rubbing her in circles. She began to respond by rocking against his hand, moving her ass against him all while sucking him hard and as deep as he liked. Soon, he started to feel the build in the base of his spine, the threat of orgasm within his reach. All he had to do was thrust into her inviting mouth, let her take him as she wanted to. Every instinct in him said to keep fucking her mouth, especially given how she pushed back against his fingers, rocking into his touch. But that pussy, that delicious, beautiful pussy, was where he wanted to be right now. He gently reached for her, cupping her cheeks and pulled her off of him.

  “You have no idea how much I want to come in your mouth,” he whispered, holding her tight in his hands.

  “So do it. I want to taste you. You know how much I love tasting you.”

  He shook his head, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling. “I want to look at you when I come. I want to watch your face when I make you come again. I want to be inside you.”

  She drew in a breath, and sighed sexily. “That sounds pretty damn nice too.”

  He sank down on the end of the chaise lounge, and shifted her on top of him. He reached for the blindfold behind him, and dangled it between her breasts. “I like my gift so much, and there’s one more way I want to use it.”

  She somehow sensed his need before he told her, because she moved her arms behind her back, aligning her wrists along her spine. “Is this how you want me?”

  “Yes,” he growled. “This is one of the fifty million ways I want you.”

  “Are you going to tell me all the other 49,999,999 ways?” she asked playfully as he looped his arms around her.

  He smiled as he tied her wrists together, and bound her forearms, until they were neatly restrained along her back. “How is it possible that you can do this to me?”

  “I think you’re doing things to me,” she said, her lips curving in a grin.

  He ran a finger along her lips, tapping her lightly. “No, funny woman. How is it that you can make me laugh as I tie you up?”

  “One of my many talents with my mouth,” she said, pouting sexily.

  “Your sexy mouth is one of my favorite playgrounds,” he said, grasping her hips, raising her up, and then lowering her gorgeous body onto his cock. She inhaled sharply as he filled her.

  “The blindfold is the gift that keeps on giving,” he said, and she smiled in return, then laughed deeply as he thrust into her, and he was sure it was her laughter that did him in. That melted his heart, absolutely and completely for this woman. He was there already, feeling everything for her, but for her to laugh like that during lovemaking, a joyous sound, sealed everything for him. He was a done deal when it came to her. She was the only woman he’d ever felt so much for, and he wanted her. Always.

  * * *

  She rode him up and down, but not a fast and furious kind of rhythm. More lingering and sensuous, taking her time, because they had time. There were no clocks, there were no deadlines; there was nothing but the two of them, entwined with each other.

  He gripped her hips, guiding her moves at times, at others letting her set the pace. He kissed her breasts, burying his face against her chest, sucking one nipple, then the other. She desperately wanted to grab the back of his head and hold him tight against her, but her arms were shackled by the silk, and truth be told, she didn’t mind one bit. She didn’t mind being tied up by him, or tied down. Everything he did to her was designed to make her feel amazing—he fucked her like she was unbreakable, and he kissed her tenderly like her heart was the most fragile thing he’d ever touched, the thing he’d never want to break.

  “I missed you this week,” he said as he blazed a trail of kisses up her chest to her throat. “I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too,” she said, breathing hard as he filled her.

  “I need to see you more, Julia,” he said, and his voice was bare and emotional, stripped down to the simplest of needs.

  “I need that too.”

  He looped his arms around her waist, then up her back, tilting his face to look at her as they made love. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”

  “Tell me,” she said, locking eyes with him. “Tell me how much.”

  “I want you in every way possible.”

  “I thought it was fifty million ways,” she said, teasing him, and he thrust hard in response. “Tell me some of them.”

  He gripped her wrists in one hand. “You know what I want? I want to fuck you in every way I can.”

  Her eyes widened with those words, with the possessiveness of his tone. “How?”

  He dropped a palm to her ass, gripping her tight. “I want to fuck your pussy as I’m doing now.” He drove deeper into her and she arched her back, letting him know she liked it. “I want to fuck your mouth, again and again,” he said, running his finger across her lips, then sliding it into her mouth. She sucked long and hard. He dropped his hand to her chest, tracing a line between her breasts. “I want to fuck you between your breasts,” he said. Then, in a flash, his hand had returned to her backside and he slipped a finger between the tops of her buttocks, causing her to draw a sharp breath. Inching his finger lower, she both tensed and thrilled as she sensed where he was going. He slid his hand between her legs, coating his fingers in her wetness, then began slowly traveling back up. “I want to fuck your hand, and I want to fuck your pretty little ass,” he said, stopping to rub a finger against her rear.

  “Oh God,” she said, her eyes falling closed.

  “Do you think you’d ever let me?” he asked, his voice all hot and husky against her throat as he pressed the tip of his finger further. He was barely inside her ass, but the twin sensations were so intense, tearing through her with a pulsing kind of tightness.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted truthfully, in between breaths.

  “Can I do this though?” he said, pushing deeper, and a bolt of pure, white heat lit up her body.

  She could barely speak; words had become impossible to form. How could anyone put syllables together when he was inside her like this? When her entire body was trembling from pleasure, and from the unexpected intensity of both his cock and his finger penetrating her?

  “Is that a yes?” he whispered, his voice low but firm. He needed an answer. He needed to know how far he could go, and there was a part of her that felt utterly helpless. She was tied up in his lap, with bound hands and spread legs. And yet, there was nothing he’d ever done to her that wasn’t short of spectacular. He was a drug, and he delivered hits of pure pleasure through her heart, mind and body.

  “Yes, you can do that,” she said, swallowing thickly as he thrust his finger deeper. She’d never experienced this before, this double dose of intensity, but there it was, her entire body spiraling into a new land of ecstasy as he did what he’d said he wanted to do. He fucked her everywhere. He fucked her all over. He owned her and consumed her, and turned her world into blinding hot rapture as she rode him. He rolled his hips up into her, his cock driving deeper, his finger sending waves of pleasure through her. She was nearing the brink, racing to the precipice, and she needed to be closer to him.

  “Untie me,” she said desperately, through heavy pants.

  Immediately, he undid the knot around her wrists, letting her hands fall free. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tugging him near, needing contact, needing to hold him as her orgasm vibrated wildly through her body. She gripped him tight, ecstasy carving its way through her in the most beautiful plundering, as he stole her body, her heart, and her very soul. She clutched him as his shoulders wracked with shudders too, joining her, his own grunts and moans piercing the night.

  “I need you all th
e time too, Clay. All the time,” she said into his neck, slick with sweat.

  “I feel the same,” he murmured stroking her back with his strong hands, and soon after she’d come down he carried her upstairs, turned on the hot shower, and bathed her, soaping her up and rinsing her off, then drying her, and taking her to bed, nestled and warm in his arms.

  “We have to find a way to see each other more,” he said, running his fingers through her hair as he faced her in bed, the dark of the night cloaking them, only a sliver of moonlight revealing his face. “It’s not negotiable.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Oh really, counselor? Is that how you play ball?”

  “Certain terms are not up for negotiation. This is one of them.”

  “How do you propose you win this point in your client’s favor? The client, I presume, is you?”

  “You know what they say about representing yourself.”

  “That you have a fool for a client?”

  He nodded, and smiled at her, his lips curving in that sexy grin. Then his expression changed. Shifted. Turned more serious. “Julia, when I first came to San Francisco, I had no idea this would happen.”

  “What’s this?” she asked, nerves fluttering through her. She was terrified to attach definitions to what she was feeling. Better that he go first. He was always the braver one.

  “You and me,” he said, and the words made her heady. They’d both come so close to voicing the most dangerous one of all. “I didn’t come to San Francisco that first night looking for this. I wasn’t looking for anything.”

  “What did you come for? What did you want?”

  “I didn’t want anything,” he said, staring deeply into her eyes. She felt as if he were looking far inside her, beyond her skin, beyond her cells, to know the heart of her. And that it belonged to him.

  “And now?” She asked, her throat dry with hope.

  His deep brown eyes searched hers, holding her gaze, holding her tight. “Now I want everything.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Her instincts had been one hundred percent right. Klausman, the show producer with the completely shaven dome and ever-present frown, had been tough as steel. He was hard to read and calculating, but she’d managed to separate him from about $1,000 by sticking to her guns, studying her cards, and quickly analyzing what had been played and what hadn’t. Klausman was a fierce opponent; the guy showed no emotion, and he reminded her of how she played in Charlie’s fake games.