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When I finish my coffee, I put the cup in the sink and walk to the bedroom. I clean my face with a makeup wipe, undo my hair and shake it out, and get into bed. When I close my eyes, Blake’s face is the one I see before me.
But I push him away. Blake Ford was just a client. The sexual tension, theconnectionI felt was just fleeting and doesn’t mean anything at all. I can’t let some fortune teller who’s just there for her cut of money put thoughts in my head that don’t make any sense.
“You’re late,” Blake says when I step out of the elevator.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. How does this keep happening to me? I’m always so punctual, but for some reason, I’m late to see Blake every time.
“You’ll just have to make it up to me,” Blake says, and he pulls me against him, arm around my waist. When he gyrates his hips, he grinds his thick cock against me and he’s hard.
“Oh, really?” I ask with a smile.
“Kiss me, babe, and all will be forgotten.” He presses his lips against mine and my knees go weak. His chin is rough with stubble and his hand is firm on my back. Heat washes through me and pools between my legs. When Blake grinds himself against me again, I moan at the back of my throat.
Blake growls animalistically, and drags me into his apartment, almost caveman style.
He starts tearing my clothes off and we leave a trail to his bedroom. By the time he drops me on his bed, I’ve managed to get rid of his shirt and his pants unzipped, his thick cock out.
He does the rest between kissing and touching, his mouth all over my body as he makes his way down.
When he’s between my legs, I cry out. He licks and sucks me, and I write on the bed, feeling like I’m going to explode.
“Wait,” I say because a voice at the back of my mind screams something at me.
“For?” Blake asks, and I can’t answer him because I don’t know. I grab him and kiss him again, and he doesn’t let me ask him twice.
He plunges into me and I cry out when his thick cock slides into me, filling me up. I tremble around his cock, moaning into his mouth as he kisses me.
I wake up from the pleasure rippling over my body as an aftermath of the sex in my dreams. My breathing comes hard and fast and the darkness in my room wraps around me, bringing me back to reality. I’m dripping wet and my nipples are tight. I run my hands over my body, closing my eyes again. It’s nothing as electric as Blake’s touch, but I’m horny as hell and it will have to do.
When I push my hands into my pants, I moan and curl on the bed. My fingers find my clit and I gasp, drawing circles around it. I roam my body with one hand, pinching my nipples, cupping my breasts, while I rub my clit faster and faster.
And in my mind’s eye, I still see Blake on top of me. I feel the stubble on his chin like sandpaper against my neck as he plants a trail of kisses along my collarbone and feel the thickness of his cock between my legs, even though it was just a dream.
It doesn’t take long before I work myself up to an orgasm. My dream already had me halfway there, and I ache for a release.
Finally, the pleasure washes through me in waves, and I curl and moan on the bed when it feels as if my body is on fire.
When the pleasure subsides, I’m left on the bed feeling isolated and alone. The pleasure is seeping away and the dream was just that—a dream. I’m alone in my dark room, and no one’s here with me, touching me, holding me in the aftermath of the heat I just experienced.
I press my hand against my forehead, swallow hard, and try to calm my breathing. I’ve never had a dream so vivid and real as this one.
I can’t shake the feeling. It takes a long time for me to calm down, for my heart to slow. And even then, I still see flashes of Blake, stillfeelhis touch on my skin.
When I finally roll onto my side and pull the covers up, I fall back asleep, but the thought of him is still so front and center, I can’t say I won’t dream about him again.
Chapter 5
Blake
“What’s your problem?” Emma asks while I’m on my back, bench pressing a hundred and eighty pounds.
“You’re asking me this now?” I blurt out, trying to regulate my breathing.
I want to bench more, but Emma is on my case about my age.
Like I’m not a fucking spring chicken anymore. And I guess I’m not.
But she doesn’t have to keepremindingme of it.
