Page 39 of Tess, Property of Blaze

“Fuck me, Blaze, fuck me,” she begs, her hot breath panting into my ear and making my blood simmer.

I grab her hand and lead her to the bed, only to discover that the mattress is still on the floor. “What happened?” she asks, looking around the room. My boys had put a couple of things back, but there are still things scattered all over the place.

I let go of her hand and unzip my jeans, facing her. “Nothing. Only think you have to worry about, baby, is what’s inside these jeans,” I tease.

“Here, let me, I want to,” she says, eyes wide as she takes a good look at what I’m packin’. She removes her shirt and drops it to the floor, then goes down on her knees in front of me. She looks up at me as she finishes unbuttoning my jeans and rolls them over my hips. My tongue sneaks out to play with my lip ring, and I hear her sigh when she realizes I have no boxers on. My cock jerks as she holds the girth in her hand while her other palms my balls.

“Suck me,” I say, and let my head drop back as she slides her warm, wet mouth around my cock.

My hands reach out and hold a ponytail in each of them. I set the pace as I push her forward and back, trying to get myself off. “That’s it, darlin’, take it all.” I feel the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat, and she gags. I let go of her hair and grind my hips, and she moans with every thrust.

Minutes go by, and she’s good, I’ll give her that, and I’m trying so hard to come—but I can’t, because all I can picture is Tess, the way I feel when I’m in her mouth, the way she knows just how I like it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get rid of any image of Tess, but it doesn’t work. I open my eyes in defeat and look down at Katie, who should really get an A for effort. She continues to suck vigorously, her mouth making a popping sound each time she withdraws, leaving a sheen of saliva over my cock. The enthusiastic moans and whimpering alone should have me coming like a freight train, but I just can’t.

I turn my head to the side and see a photo frame holding a picture of Tess and I at a club party, kissing. I remember that day—it was the day she said she’d move in with me. I was the happiest man alive. I’d kissed her, and Jasmine had taken that photo. A week later, Jasmine had it printed and gave it to us as a gift, in a fancy frame and wrapped nicely—said she wanted to capture our happiness and give us a constant reminder.

I stare at that photo for what seems a lifetime as Katie continues servicing my half-hard cock. “Enough!” I yell suddenly, my eyes still glued to the photo of Tess and me. She looked so beautiful that night.

“What’s wrong?” Katie asks, pulling off my dick and looking up at me with swollen lips and wide eyes. “Do you just want to fuck?”

I close my eyes and shake my head, running a hand through my hair. What the fuck was I thinking? Why would I ever think that Katie could make all my problems go away? No one can. I can fuck every girl in the clubhouse and I still wouldn’t forget Tess, because she’s been a part of my life for two fuckin’ years. I fuckin’ asked her to marry me! Twice! I move my hand to the back of my neck, rubbing at the tension there, and look down at Katie. “Just leave,” I say defeatedly.

She frowns, her perfectly manicured eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Wait. You want me to leave? But….”

I move back, out of her space. “Get your things and get the fuck out,” I growl, pointing to the door. Her jaw clacks together, and I reach down and pick my jeans up from around my feet, then zip them back up. Ignoring Katie’s presence, I turn and walk to the photo and bend down to pick it up off the floor, wiping away the shards of glass still stuck in the frame. I can hear Katie in the background shuffling into her shirt, but my eyes stay on the picture.

“Why…. Why?” I yell at the photo, and with my anger and hurt rising again, I turn and throw the picture against the wall.

Katie screams at my outburst, and rushes over the door and opens it, slamming it behind her. I fall to the mattress and punch my fist into it, letting the anger bleed out until I’m shaking with exhaustion. Then I do something I haven’t done since I was ten years old. I lie down on my mattress and let the pain fill me, tears flowing onto the fabric in a steady stream.

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