Page 94 of Silver-Tongued Devil
“Then,” she said, “you should think about one thing.” She was unfastening her seatbelt, and so was he.
“What’s that?”
“How fast you can run.”
With that, she was tumbling out of the car, running for the garage door. She could hear the explosion of his curse behind her and the sound of his car door slamming, and she laughed. “Kinda slow, aren’t you?” she said over her shoulder as she headed into the house. “Shame about your knee.”
Then she took off. Through the laundry room, then into the kitchen. She could hear him coming through the door behind her, and she picked up the pace. It wasn’t easy to run in platform heels, but she did it. She swung around the kitchen island, then hung onto it and watched him.
“Not fast enough,” she told him, and she was in the dining room now, across the expanse of all that stone and into the living room. Past the antler-legged coffee table and the giant couches to the stairway. Up the first flight to the landing. The sound of his breathing behind her. Getting closer.
He caught her halfway up from the landing. A hard arm around her waist, and she was turning, twisting. Being tackled.
“Got—” she began to say.Got me.But she didn’t get the chance. She was sliding down one step, then two, on her hands and knees. One of Blake’s hands was still around her waist, the other one pulling her shirt up. Yanking it over her head, then unhooking her bra with one deft hand and shoving it down her arms.
She started to turn, to say something.Let’s go upstairs,orSlow down, big boy,or something. He said, “No,” and he was shoving her back down. Then both his hands were on her breasts, and his mouth was in the hollow of her spine, between her shoulder blades, kissing her there, making her weak.
He pulled her down, and she went. Bumping on her knees, one more step, then two. She was on the landing, her hands still two steps above her, braced against the edge of the step. And he was unbuttoning her jeans, yanking them down her legs. All the way to her ankles. His hand was there, then, so hard and so urgent, and she was lost.
Dakota. Hanging onto the carpeted step, her jeans pulled all the way down. He was shoving her knees apart with one hand, had the other one diving between her legs, rubbing hard.
No teasing this time. Nothing but now. She was pushing into his hand, panting, starting to call out. His palm was on the curve of her ass, urging her to open up more, and she was going. He had to… he had…
A hasty hand to unbuckle his belt, pull down his zipper, free himself. And Dakota on her hands and knees, rocking back and forth, asking for him.
He entered her hard, and she cried out. He was past hearing. He was hauling her hips back with one hand, the other hand on her again, driving her up with him. Higher and higher. Almost… there.
“Come on,” he got out. “Come on, Dakota. Give it up. Give it to me.” And she was going up, spiraling. Her sweet hips pumping, her hands shoving off like she was the one riding him. Like she was going to swallow him down.
He took her hard. He took her deep. She took it all.
It was like she’d been struck by lightning. She was wrecked, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as the remains of the tremors rippled through her body. And she was sprawled under Blake with her jeans around her ankles, hobbled in every possible way.
“Uh…” he said at last, then swore. “Wait.” He was working on the straps of her sandals, taking off her shoes, pulling her jeans the rest of the way off her, then standing up and taking her with him. “Come on.”
He had all his clothes on, and she was naked. He had his arm around her, taking her up the stairs, into his bedroom. He switched on the light by the bed, then fell onto the bed with her, wrapped her up tight, and kissed her, long and slow and sweet.
“OK?” he asked, brushing her hair out of her face. “Sorry. I didn’t… I shouldn’t have… That was too rough.”
She smiled. She couldn’t have done anything else. “Wow. You’re so much more than I bargained for.”
He laughed, and it wasn’t very steady. “It was the running. You flipped my switch all the way to ‘linebacker.’ That was a sack all the way, and it felt so good to be the one doing it. You OK?”
“Yeah.” It was barely a breath. She had a hand on his cheek, was kissing his mouth. “I’m OK. You probably killed your knee, though. And you know what you do for me? You push my buttons. Every single time.”
He sighed, rolled onto his back, and pulled her to lie on top of him. “That’s because I love your buttons. But darlin’.” His eyes, his voice were sober now. “I messed up on the condom.”
“Oh.” A low, sickening lurch of fear. “Uh… I’ve been checked. But you…”
“Nah.” His hand was stroking over her back, now, soothing her. “I’m all clean. Nobody gets tested more than an NFL player, and lately, seems I’ve been waiting for you. But what about birth control?”
Her heart had long since begun to pound. “No. I’m not… I haven’t been on anything. I haven’t been… it’s been a while since I’ve needed it. I was planning to go to the doctor soon, once I finished your house. I should be all right, though. It’s… I’m past the midpoint of my cycle. So I should be all right.”
He rolled them again, braced himself on an elbow, and brushed the back of his hand over her cheek in one of those tender gestures that devastated her. “You’re all right no matter what. Just tell me. It was my fault.”
She nodded, suddenly too close to tears. The residue of the evening, of too much emotion and too much sensation.
Too much Blake.
