Page 27 of Uncharted Desires
I moan around his cock, trying not to let the implication behind his words get to me, but he speaks again. “Sawyer… Come on.”
My balls ache and I take him in as deep as I can again, hoping that will get his mind off whatever ideas are going through his head, but he grabs my head with both his hands, keeping me in place.
I glance up, his cock still lodged in my mouth.
His pupils are blown, covering his irises almost entirely, making his gaze so intense it ignites sparks within me.
“Please. I need it.”
He’s going to be the end of me.
I give him another suck, making his body jerk up before I withdraw, letting go of his cock, my finger still dancing around his rim. “You need what?”
He lets out a shaky exhale. “You know what.”
He can’t even say the words. And maybe that’s the final straw that makes my brain shut off and say, “Okay. Okay. But it can’t be here.”
“Fine.” He straightens up, the weight of his leg disappearing from my shoulder. “Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere. But I want itnow.”
He stares at me intently, his eyes huge. Impatient. Pleading.
I was wrong.
It’s not his body that’s going to be the end of me. It’s those eyes.
I lean back, resting my palms on the floor behind me, and, against my better judgment, I nod. “Dress up. My place is close.”
Blake’s on his feet before I can blink, gathering his clothes, haphazardly pulling them on.
And I know I’ve just made a huge, huge mistake.
Chapter Five
Blake
THE COLD NIGHT’S wind bites my skin even through the fabric of my jacket as I’m riding on the back of Sawyer’s motorcycle, clinging to the man in front of me like he’s a life raft in the middle of a volatile ocean.
And in a way, it feels like I’m drowning.
I’m drowning in the stew of my doubts. My apprehensions. My insecurities. But when I wrap my arms tighter around his waist and press my chest against his back when he takes a turn, he's the one thing keeping me afloat.
And yeah, he’s still speeding like he’s running away from something.
The engine's roar dials down as he gently hits the brake. The bike glides smoothly for another hundred yards before it comes to a halt between an ancient Mercedes and a beat-up Toyota in a tiny parking lot behind a four-story-tall apartment building.
“You were speeding again,” I say as I dismount, my legs still shaky even now when they’re safely on the ground.
He lifts the screen of my helmet that’s still on my head.
“What was that?” he asks, his expression crooked in amusement.
I take the helmet off and inhale sharply, but then my eyes land on his helmet hair, sticking out in every direction, and then his eyes, intense and heavy-lidded, holding a promise of what’s about to come. I shake my head instead. “Never mind.”
He takes the helmet from me, and with both of them held in one hand, he turns and walks toward the eerie-looking building.
I pace behind him until I match his stride. “You’re not leaving them in the trunk?”
Sawyer shoots me a side-glance. “They’re safer inside.”
