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He digs his hand into my hair and presses lightly, bringing me closer. My lips brush against him. I look up at him as if to ask permission. It's there, in his eyes.
I grab onto his hips, using them for leverage as I take him into my mouth. It's just as much of a release, pressing my tongue against him, sucking on his tip.
A low, deep groan escapes from his lips. It pushes me so, so close to the edge. I wrap one hand around him and stroke him as I take him deep.
I flick my tongue against his tip, teasing him the way he teases me. His touch gets rougher, desperate. He presses against the back of my head, urging me to go deeper.
I look up at him as I take him in. His eyes are still commanding but they're also filled with desire. His whole face is wrecked with desire, like he can barely control himself.
He tastes good and he feels better. I suck on him untilhis thighs clench. Until he's shaking.
Blake tugs hard at my hair, pulling me off him. He shakes like he's at the edge, like he's desperate for release.
"Turn around, hands on the top of the couch, knees on the cushion," he says.
I do it as quickly as possible. He brings his hands to my hips, positioning his body behind mine. His cock strains against my sex. I let out a deep sigh. His follows.
"Come with me." He slides inside me.
I gasp, digging my hands into the soft leather fabric of the couch. Blake moves fast. His nails are sharp against my hips as he pumps into me. It's hard and deep. Within moments, I'm at the edge. The pressure inside me is so intense I can barely contain myself.
My thighs shake. I groan. "Blake. I'm almost there."
He scrapes his nails against my skin. The burst of pain shoots through me, mixing with the ecstasy and forming a much more powerful combination. My body is desperate for release, like it's been waiting a million years, but I need another moment of this.
His hand comes down hard on my ass. Yes. There. He does it again, and again. The rush of pain pushes me forward, until my thighs are shaking.
I lose control of my breath. All I can do is embrace the sensations he's creating in me. A burst of pain. A rush of pleasure. A tension growing tighter and tighter.
There. I'm at the edge. I groan as I come, my sex spasming around his cock, pulling him closer.
He spanks me again—I went before him. I disobeyed his orders—but it only spurs me on. The pressure releases and builds up. I'm about to come again already. I sink my teeth into my lip, desperate to come with him this time.
Blake drags his nails over my back, from my neck all the way to my ass. He thrusts into me harder, deeper, faster. He groans, almost there.
I close my eyes, soaking in the feeling of him inside me, the pulsing in his cock as he gets closer to the edge. The pressure inside me builds to a crescendo. One more thrust, and he's there, pulsing and groaning. It pushes me into another orgasm.
Pleasure fills my body as I come down. It's harder, deeper, all the way to my toes.
Blake slides out. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto the couch next to him.
He strokes my hair as if he's asking feel better?
I nod. Much better.
After we catch our breath, Blake takes me to the bathroom and runs a bath. He strips off my sweater and tank top. His eyes go wide like he's taking me in. He clearly appreciates the bra, even if the matching panties are in the other room.
He traces the outline of the bra, then runs his fingers over the lace. The fabric strains against my nipple, filling me with a desperate desire. How can it be possible to want him so quickly?
"You wore this for me too?" he asks.
"I don't have any other fiancé to wear it for."
His lips curl into a smile. He runs his fingers over the bra, starting at the outline and working his way down the cups. I gasp when his fingers skim my nipples. The fabric is creating all sorts of delightful friction.
"Can you stay still this time?" he asks. "You'll hurt yourself if you slip on the tile."
I shake my head. "Still" is unlikely with the way he's touching me.
He grabs a towel and lays it on the floor. "On your back."
"But—"
"Do you want to come again?"
I nod.
"Then now."
I do as I'm asked. The towel provides little cushion against the hard tile, but I'm so keyed up I don't mind.
Blake lies next to me. "Arms above your head."
I raise my arms. He holds me in place just above my elbows. Then he presses his lips into mine. The kiss is long and deep. My arms struggle against his. He maintains control, pressing me hard against the tile floor.
He works his way down my neck and collarbone. To my chest. To just outside the edge of the bra. He pulls one cup down so my breast spills out. It's enough to make me gasp. His tongue flicks against my nipple, sending a wave of pleasure down my stomach. I've already felt so much, but I still want more. Am I greedy or blessed with a sex god for a fiancé?
He sucks on my nipples one at a time. It's hard but not enough to hurt. His free hand trails over my stomach and between my legs. No teasing this time. He slides his fingers over my clit, then inside me.
I go to tug at his hair. He holds me in place. It's different than being tied up, but I'm just as powerless. If I didn't trust him so deeply, I'd be terrified of the feeling of being overpowered.
But I do trust him, and that makes this so much better. He hooks his leg over my knees, increasing the force of his hold. My eyes flutter closed. I sigh, relaxing completely into his control.
I'm his. Utterly his.
He teases my nipples as he finger-fucks me. Every motion of his hand and every brush of his lips pushes me closer to the edge. I surrender to the sensation, so the only thing I can feel is the pleasure building between my legs.
His breath strains. I open my eyes to look at him, so I can see all the desire on his face. He's in control of his expressions but hints of want break through.
He doesn't have to ask. I hold his gaze, staring into him, the man who makes me feel so good I could die, the man who means everything to me.
A few more thrusts and an orgasm wells up inside me. I groan his name. Almost. His eyes close as he sucks on my nipple. The pressure of his mouth sends me over the edge. I come, pleasure pulsing through my body.
Blake releases me. He gets up to turn off the running water. Somehow, the tub is perfectly filled. Magic powers or just Blake? Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.
We take a long, slow bath together. Blake washes and conditions my hair and rubs me down with a bottle of vanilla scented body wash. The only thing that can convince me to leave is my appetite.
It's well past a normal lunch time. We order Thai delivery then bake and decorate cookies while we wait. I make a mess of every bowl in the kitchen in my attempts to mix the perfect icing colors. It's worth it for the lovely shade of pink I make. I get to work on a star, painting it white then adorning it with cherry blossom petals. Not Christmas-themed, but I don't care. They make me think about Blake. They make me think about why this kind of thing matters.
Life is short and I want to spend it running to the beauty in the world instead of running away from the pain.
Blake is less creative in his decorations. He paints the snowmen white, the trees green, the stars blue. I add ornaments to his trees, scarves and hats to his snowmen, neat patterns to his stars. He watches me with affection.
Lunch tastes damn good. I eat my entire bowl of red curry shrimp and still have room for two sugar cookies. They're as good as the ones I made with my parents so many years ago. The memory still stings, but mostly it feels good.
I offer Blake his choice of Christmas movies, any movie in the entire world. He picks Die Hard, of course. What is with men and movies where things blow up?
It's entertaining enough. Better than watching The Matrix: Revolutions again. I have no doubt Lizzy will subject us to all seven hours of The Matrix Trilogy sometime in the next few days.
The movie isn't quite my scene. I rest my head in Blake's lap with every intention of staying awake. Just a few minutes with my eyes closed…
It's a few hours later when I wake. The sky is orange. Sunset. Blake isn't here, but there's a note on my phone.
Blake: Went to pick up Lizzy at the airport. We should be home by six. I'll order a pizza for dinner.
I smile. Blake and Lizzy don't see eye to eye on much, but they agree violently when it comes to two things: how amazing programming is and how much New York pizza blows California pizza out of the water.
I find my sketchbook in my purse and set myself up on the couch to draw. Something in the corner of the room catches my eyes. A flash of green.
It's the tree. It's up. And it's decorated with exactly three candy canes.
My heart melts.
Chapter 6
Lizzy bursts in through the door, a bundle of energy. "Sterling, if you are teasing me, I will throw you off this balcony." She drops her suitcase on the floor and throws her coat on top of it.
Blake slides both out of the way. He closes and locks the door. "I don't tease anyone but Kat."
Lizzy sticks her tongue out in disgust. "Jesus, please keep that to yourself. I don't need the mental images." She scans the penthouse, her eyes wide. "Is there any place here you two haven't— Ugh. Don't tell me."
"At the very least, he'd take you on as an intern. You're better than anyone out of a hack school."
She glares at Blake. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
He smiles.
"I'm better than most junior programmers. Not in Silicon Valley, but in New York, fuck yes. Have you seen what passes for code some places?" She folds her arms over her chest.
I cut in. "How many cans of Diet Coke did you drink on the plane?"
"It's free. It's a bad value if you don't drink until your bladder explodes." She turns to me. Her face softens as she bounces over and hugs me. "I missed you." She steps back. "Your hair looks cute. When did you get lowlights?"
"I felt weird all blonde."
"I dig." She tosses her hair back as if to compare styles. Her expression shifts back to Blake. "You're less greedy than I always figured."
He doesn't blink. "How so?"
"Well, you stay in New York even though you should be in Silicon Valley. Because Silicon Valley blows and New York is the greatest city in the entire world." She goes to the fridge, scans it and frowns. "No soda? Don't tell me you buy into that Bloomberg soda ban bullshit? Only sixteen ounces at a time. What a—"
"It's bad for you." My voice is stern, like a lecturing mother.
Blake rubs my shoulder. "We can order soda with the pizza."
