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It's torture bringing my hands back to my sides. They want his skin. I need to touch him. I need it in my bones.
He nips at my neck. It's a soft bite. Then a hard one. Pain shoots through me, waking up every nerve in my body.
Yes. I need this. He nips at the skin on my chest. Almost.
His lips brush my nipple. Light. Then harder.
He sucks on my nipple. No softness. It's so hard it hurts. Pleasure and pain whir inside me.
It's a lot.
But I still want more.
He toys with me, sucking, licking, biting softly. Then harder.
My instincts beg me to touch him, but I keep my hands at my sides. I tug at my dress. I squeeze my thighs together. I contain myself the best I can.
He moves to my other nipple and teases it mercilessly. It's this beautiful mix of pleasure of pain. Or need and satisfaction. I'm achy. Empty. Desperate to be full.
When he releases me, I'm panting.
His eyes lock with mine. He takes my wrist and guides my hand up his thigh, under his boxers, around his cock.
I wrap my hand around him. That's Blake in my hand.
I rub my thumb over his tip and he lets out a groan.
He grabs me by the hair, his palm flat against the back of my head. He wants my mouth around him.
And I want that too.
I have no idea what I'm doing, but I want it so badly.
I lick my lips reflexively. My eyes are begging him.
He nods, giving me permission.
I plant one hand on his thigh. He guides me into position.
My heart thuds against my chest.
My sex clenches.
I'm about to give Blake head in the back of a car and I don't have a single objection.
There's something wrong with me.
But I don't care.
I wrap my hand around his cock, wiping a drop of pre-come from the head.
I brush my lips against him. The skin is soft but he's so hard.
I try it again. Again. Until I find the spot that makes him groan.
Then I take him into my mouth.
He tastes good. Salt and something uniquely Blake.
His hands go to my hair. One cups the back of my head, holding me in place. It winds me tighter. All of it.
I slide my tongue around him. It feels so right, him in my mouth, him holding me in place, him utterly in control of how I bring him pleasure.
He presses his hand against the back of my head, guiding me over his cock.
He starts gentle. Then gets harder. Deeper.
Until he's so deep I'm gagging.
But that feels good too.
Blake's groan fills the car. I'm sure the driver is watching, but I don't care. That sound is music. That sound is poetry.
His hands tighten in my hair. He takes me deeper. Harder. I follow his motions. He shifts his hips, thrusting into my mouth, tugging at my hair as my tongue hits just the right spot.
Fuck, I love the way he pulls my hair.
I love everything about this.
He feels good in my mouth.
I run my tongue along every inch of his cock, testing his reactions. He shudders as I flick my tongue against his tip.
Perfect.
I do it again. Again. Again. He tugs at my hair a little harder. It spurs me on.
I slide my mouth over him and take him as deep as I can.
He leans back, holding me in place, as he thrusts into my mouth.
"Fuck, Kat…"
He goes harder. Harder. I'm stuck in place. At his mercy. Forced to take it as deep as he wants me to.
But I fucking like it.
His hand knots in my hair as he pulses. With the next thrust of his hips, he comes.
He's warm. Salty. A little sweet.
I catch every drop, swallowing when he's done.
"Fuck," he groans.
Something in Blake relaxes as I return to my seat.
The car slows to pull onto an off-ramp. We're almost back to his place.
I'm almost in his bed again.
I reach for my bra but Blake grabs my wrist.
"Take off the rest of your dress."
Desire shoots through me. I lift my hips to slide the dress to my feet.
He tugs at the strap of my thong. "That too."
I slide the panties to my feet. They fall over my dress.
Blake reaches for my coat and slings it over my shoulders.
I slide it all the way on and clasp all the buttons.
There's nothing under my coat but me.
Chapter Eighteen
The elevator is mercilessly slow.
I hug my chest, squeezing my coat closed. Blake slips his hand under it and strokes my outer thigh with his thumb.
I'm naked under here and he's touching me and there's a nice older woman riding the elevator with us. She's prim and proper. Exactly the type you'd expect in a building like this.
Finally, the elevator stops.
The doors pull apart.
She shoots us a curious look as she steps into the hallway. It's like she knows I'm naked under here. Maybe she does. Maybe it's all over my face.
The doors slide together.
We're alone. There's a camera in the ceiling, but we're alone.
Blake moves in front of me, blocking the view of the security camera.
He undoes the buttons of my coat and slides it open.
I'm naked in the elevator.
On display for him.
It makes me so fucking hot.
It's exhilarating.
He runs his fingertips down my body. Lips. Neck. Chest. Stomach. They stop just below my belly button.
Then lower.
Lower.
Almost.
His eyes stay glued to mine.
He shifts his hand another millimeter lower.
His expression stays intense. In control.
Ding. Penthouse. Blake's floor. His apartment takes up the entire floor.
We step into the hallway. He pulls my coat off my shoulders and lays it over his arm.
I'm naked in the hallway.
No one can see—you need a key card to access the floor—but still.
I'm naked in the hallway.
He opens the door and motions after you. It's absurd, him politely holding my
jacket and opening the door for me after ordering me to strip and suck him off in the back of a car. With a driver watching.
He's the ultimate gentleman in the streets, freak in the sheets.
The apartment is dark. The lights of the city flow through the window.
I hug my chest reflexively.
Blake's hand slides over my shoulder. He presses the door closed and clicks the lock. "Hands at your sides. I want to look at you."
My breath hitches.
He stares at me, his eyes wide with lust. He likes what he sees. He likes looking at me.
And I like him looking at me.
It's a prefect arrangement, really.
"Turn around," he demands.
I do.
It's such a strange sensation. I'm exposed. Vulnerable. But I like it. I like him looking at me, thinking about me, wanting me.
He moves closer, placing his body behind mine. His lips on my neck. His hands on my ass.
His fingertips skim my sex.
It pours gasoline on the fire raging inside me.
"Turn around," he says.
I do. I slide my arms around his neck and press my lips to his.
He kisses back. It's hard. Hungry. Like he needs this as much as I do.
Like he needs me as much as I need him.
Blake slides his hands under my ass. He lifts me into the air and holds my body against his. I hook my legs around his waist and squeeze him with my thighs.
He carries me like I'm weightless.
We move into the bedroom.
He throws me back on the bed. I land with a soft thud. The foam mattress absorbs all the impact.
He doesn't play around.
He climbs on top of me and pins me to the bed.
The weight of his body sinks into mine. He's heavy and warm. His cock is straining against his slacks, pressing against my sex.
Fabric is between us.
Again.
I'm really starting to despise fabric.
He reaches for something—a length of rope with a cuff at the end. It's part of an under-the-bed restraints system.
He cuffs my hand and squeezes the rope tight. Then he does the same with my other hand.
My upper body is stuck in place.
I'm at his mercy.
But then, I was already at his mercy.
Blake drags his lips over my body. Mouth. Neck. Chest. Stomach. Just below my belly button.
His breath is warm against me. His mouth is inches from my sex. So. Damn. Close.
He nips at my inner thigh. I shift my hips, desperately trying to make contact. He ignores my plea, dragging his lips all the way to my ankle. He undoes the buckle of my shoe and slides it off my foot. Then there's something else around my ankle.
