Page 177 of My Rules

I walk downstairs to find Blake in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine. He’s wearing a charcoal suit and a light-blue shirt. His hair is messed up, with a bit of a curl to it. He’s the epitome of suit porn in all its glory.

“Hi.” I smile nervously from the door.

His eyes rise to meet mine. “Hi.” He gives me a slow, sexy smile as he steps toward me. He takes me into his arms and kisses me. “Hi.” He smiles again.

“Hi,” I breathe.

“You look lovely.” His hands drop to my behind as his dark eyes roam up and down my body. “Like ... really lovely.”

“Blake, I’m wearing a tracksuit; you are very easily pleased.” I try to act casual.

Ha . . . bingo.

The outfit is working. I looked in the shops for three hours for a not-trying hot tracksuit.

Seems that I nailed it.

He kisses me softly, his lips lingering over mine. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“How come?” I play dumb.

“Because then I get to eat pasta,” he lies.

“Oh, you’re here for the carbs?”

He gives me the best come-fuck-me look of all time. “I’m here for the meat.”

A shiver runs down my spine as the air crackles between us.

“So I’m meat now?” I smirk.

“Among other things.” His hungry eyes roam up and down my body as if imagining something.

I know exactly what he’s imagining, because I’m imagining it too.

He kisses me again, this time with suction, and my feet nearly lift from the floor. “Did you put your piercing back in?” I smile against his lips.

He unzips his suit pants and pulls his boxers down. “You better check.” He kisses me again as I slide my hand into his pants and feel his hard, engorged length.

Oh . . .

I slide down his shaft and feel the metal of the bar and then his tip. My hand slides through the pre-ejaculate that’s beading on his end.

Fuck.

My body begins to thump with arousal.

I cup his balls as our kiss deepens, and then I wrap my hand around him and stroke him hard.

He slams me up against the fridge, and the contents rattle.

Suddenly we’re desperate, kissing like animals. His hands are roaming all over my body as I jerk his cock with force. I glance over and catch sight of us in the mirror. He is still fully dressed in his suit as I ravage him.

It drives me further over the point of no return.

“Shower,” he moans into my mouth. “A shower.”

“The dinner . . . ,” I pant back.

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