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His answer is everything, “Yes, angel. You’re my girl. You’re my everything. Can I keep you?” His lips caress my forehead before moving over my fluttering eyelids. I sigh at the butterfly-soft kisses trailing over my cheek until they brush against my waiting lips.
“Yes,” I mumble against his seeking mouth. I want that. Want to be his.
“Yes, what babe?” His teeth carefully scrape over my full bottom lip, driving me crazy. I scratch my nails through the short hair at the back of his neck, searching for the longer strands on top and using them to tug his mouth closer to mine.
“Yes, you can keep me.” I pledge, opening my mouth slightly and pulling him against me as I gather my courage, sweeping into his mouth and over the sharp edges of his teeth until my seeking tongue finds his. With a hoarse groan he wraps my long ponytail around his fist and drags my head back, exposing my throat to his exploration. I gasp with a combination of pleasure and mild pain when his teeth sink into the tendon, sagging in his arms as my knees go weak, and giggling against his throat when he sweeps me into his arms again, carrying me to the couch and sitting, keeping me tight against his chest.
“I think someone said something about making out…” I quip, his closeness making me confident in a way I’ve never been before. I nuzzle closer to him and take in a lungful of his clean, delicious scent before nipping carefully at the pulse pounding at the base of his throat.
“You’re right,” he rumbles, “someone did.”
It’s not the first time we’ve been alone, but it is the first time that my mom, Lizzie and Auggie aren’t in the next room or just inside the house and I’m not about to waste this opportunity. Breaking our kiss I wiggle around so I’m straddling his lap, my ugly grey dress riding up my thighs. His long fingers dig firmly into the soft curves of my hips, rocking my core against the solid ridge of his arousal which is straining the heavy twill of his black fatigues.
The little buds of my nipples tingle and tighten inside my dress, the friction of the scratchy polyester fabric sending little currents of electricity shooting straight from my heavy breasts to the cleft between my thighs.
I want more. No, it’s more than that. I need more.
Blake shifts his hips, thrusting his hardness up against my welcoming softness, grinding hard against my still sensitive clit. In a flash I’m lost. With a throaty cry an orgasm explodes through my entire body, white heat racing down my arms and legs making them heavy, but he doesn’t stop his rhythmic movements. Strong hands cinch tighter and continue to guide my body as I quiver and moan on top of him, another wave of pressure already building low in my belly.
“Blake…” I gasp, feeling another climax hurtling through me.
“Give it to me,” he orders gruffly. I struggle to maintain the drugging rhythm when his hands release me and move to the row of small black buttons running down the front of my dress. Blunt fingers deftly undo them one by one before pushing the material down over my shoulders, trapping my arms against my sides. Distracted momentarily by the feeling of being restrained, I fight to free them but he leans forward, lapping one bared nipple and then the other with the flat of his tongue.
“No fucking bra,” his groan is tortured. When he repeats the caress, I cease battling with my restraining garment, my hands settling quietly on my thighs waiting to see what comes next. I don’t really need my arms.
“You stopped,” he complains, pushing his hardness up against me again.
“Sorry,” I murmur, “I think you turned my brain into mush.” I admit.
“Good.” He smirks, grasping my waist and tipping us so that I’m horizontal, the soft cushions of the couch under my bare back. My arms still pinned to my sides, my skirt rucked up around my waist, thighs spread wide accommodating the bulk of his frame for the second time today. I love how womanly I feel beneath him.
How small and vulnerable.
Cherished and protected.
“If I’d known that your tits have been bare under these dresses…” He sits up on his knees between my legs, palming the ridge tenting his pants and adjusting it with a pained look on his face.
“If you’d known?” I whimper, relishing his narrowed gaze devouring the sight of my rosy nipples before moving south to the place where I can feel wetness saturating the soft cotton of my panties.
“I’d have had you on your back under me a week ago.” His voice is a feral growl as he slides to his knees on the floor, moving me like a ragdoll until my butt is hanging off the edge and my legs are draped wide over his forearms.
A wave of insecurity ambushes me. It’s been a long day. I haven’t showered since before daylight this morning and I move to pull my knees together, the frantic desire I felt just a few moments ago dimming under the weight my nerves.
Blake crowds closer leaning over me until we are nose to nose. “You okay, angel?”
His tone is rich with concern. I don’t think anyone, not even my mom, has ever talked to me that way, like my next words will be the most important ones ever uttered.
“Just…” I wave my trapped hand awkwardly in the general direction of my underwear. “I’ve never… I mean, I might need a shower.” I stumble the words, feeling the heat of embarrassment burning my face and creeping down my neck. Way to ruin the mood, Ellie.
What Blake does next shocks me. He laughs, a full throated, amused laugh.
“You think that you need to shower?” the laughter stops, his voice serious again, and I quickly nod in response. “You silly, silly girl.” A grin unlike any I have ever seen crosses his face. Usually Blake is sweet and kind. Relaxed and friendly. This smile is dark, hinting at depths he hasn’t shown me yet. Depths that cause my pulse pick up and my blood to throb in my veins.
His big hands slide under my thighs, placing my knees over his wide shoulders before sliding them under my butt. Lifting my core towards his face he shocks me more when he nuzzles his face into the crease of my thigh brushing against my... pussy… there I said it… He inhales deeply. My entire body jerks, a rush of fresh wetness soaking my panties as my feminine muscles spasm in response to the intimate caress.
“You smell sweet,” he rasps, “so damn delicious, Elinor.” Moving closer to my center and nudging the stiff bundle of nerves below my mound with his nose.
“Oh!” The single strangled sound comes from my throat when he bumps it again, his hands sliding up the insides of my legs. Slowly he pulls my underwear down, giving me plenty of time to object if I was of a mind to. I’m not. I don’t want to stop.
