Page 79 of An Unexpected Kind of Love

“You want this?”

And my face is on fire, compromised for him. Anything.

“I wantyou,” I manage.

Blake rubs himself against my arse, seeping and hot.

He shifts to kiss me lingeringly, our hands linked as I wrap my legs around him. And he eases himself inside, my back arching with the thrill of him as I gasp. The weight of his body on mine is intoxicating. In his arms is safety, comfort. Feeling wanted and cared for, even in our urgency.

My body is more than ready, pressing to meet him. After tonight, the stress of the party—of Eli, specifically—and the drama of the burst pipe, everything has more meaning.

He shifts to grip my arse and rolls to sit up. And I straddle him, stroking my cock, wild for him. It’s hard to think with him like this, the burn of his mouth tonight, the extra intensity to seeing him so undone and desperate.

For me.

Impossible to imagine. Instead, I give over to raw emotion.

Wanting. Needing. Feeling.

Blake works me with relentless fingers and I ride him, panting and shuddering, till we abruptly roll over and I’m belly-down on the bed, face pressed into the duvet. Goose bumps cover my body.

And then, holy fuck.

He slaps my arse and rides me like the apocalypse is at our door and the last thing he wants to do is have me. And I’m his, all his, desperately his. His urgency only makes me more wild for him.

“Fuck,” I sob out. “Blake.”

And when he comes, thrusting intensely, his mouth burning at the nape of my neck, his arms heavy over mine, he sobs out my name, over and over, smothered in my hair.

When he finally collapses on me, the length of him still inside me, I shudder hard as I come against myself and the bed, not even needing to touch myself to get off. Because there’s the thrill of him, so close, so wanting. His fingers are tight against my hips.

“Aubrey, Aubrey…” He’s whispering in my ear, ragged.

“I’m right here…” I gasp, turning my head slightly as he nibbles on my ear.

“I want you so much.”

“I’m here. I want you too.”

And then he slides off and flips me over, taking stock of the mess I’ve made of myself and the bed. He gives a low, throaty chuckle that thrills me. Then, he bends his head to lick me clean. It’s hard to imagine there was a time in my life before Blake. Our bodies are caught in a call and answer that feels too raw, too instinctive for us to have known each other for only a couple of weeks. As his tongue runs along my belly, I shudder, raking my fingers through his damp hair, cool against my skin.

When he takes my cock into his mouth, so sensitive after coming, I buck slightly. He holds me down, working me gently. And I sob out, writhing between pleasure and pain.

And honestly? It’s so hot.

“Oh God— Blake—”

I can’t think. Not for any sum of money. Or anything else.

Instead, I moan and sob like a wild thing. Everything’s raw.

He continues until I’m stiff enough and then, before long, my body jerks as I come powerfully, flowing over his tongue. Blake’s fingers are tight on my wrists, holding me down.

Finally, he sits up, kneeling.

God, he’s a vision, dark hair sweeping over his brow, taut muscles in the light. And then he wraps me up tight in his arms and the duvet, kissing me reverently, like I mean everything to him. And him to me. Our fingers trace each other’s skin, our bodies imprinted on each other.

Eventually, we return to ourselves, wrapped in each other in bed. Blake nuzzles me and I shiver, highly tuned to his touch. “I need to tell you something,” he says softly, giving me a kiss.

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