Page 29 of Breaking Blaze

No matter how many times she replayed the scene from last night over in her head, she still couldn’t figure out how she went from confronting Blaze about what he’d done and said to them practically banging on the living room floor to him pronouncing them a couple—well, him claiming her his, actually.

And what the hell did that mean, anyway?

“I’m officially claiming you as mine…,”he’d said, but what did that really mean? Not even ten days, he’d been coming from another woman’s apartment after…well, she didn’t want to think about that again. But how could she not? For the last four years, Blaze had hopped from bed to bed, going through women like his construction company went through nails.

Huh. Nailed and bailed. New meaning.

But, according to him, he doesn’t want just one night with you, he wants to make you his, taking his time to kiss, lick, touch, and pleasure you.

Wrapped as she was in her bedsheets, it took some effort to kick off the material that rubbed against her aching, too sensitive flesh. She’d barely slept, her mind reeling with the memories of Blaze’s mouth on hers, devouring her, his big, skilled hands sliding into her panties to play her hot, needy pussy like a goddamn fiddle. Her body was still humming from the orgasm he’d given her…and he wanted to give her more.

“Ugh!” she cried, kicking her legs over the edge of her bed to sit up. Still throbbing, the place between her thighs pulsed harder at the movement, her needy clit entirely too ready for the pleasure Blaze had promised…with his hands and his words.

Glancing at the digital clock on her bedside table, Anna rolled over, the urge to remain in bed and wallow in her thoughts all day a powerful motivation killer.

As if conjured to kick her ass into gear, her cell rang, the name on the display making her cringe and then grunt.

It’s like she knows I’m planning to pout and ponder all day.

“Hey, Anna-boo, what’s shittin’?” Sally inquired, her voice entirely too chipper for that time of the morning.

“The correct phrase is ‘what’s shakin’, and now that I hear how disgustingly happy you sound at eight in the morning, I am wondering how your night with Mr. Sexy Suit from the bar went,” Anna drawled, purposefully focusing the conversation on Sally…so she could gather her scattered thoughts before Sally’s radar pinged on Anna’s overnight…happenings.

Sally sighed. “Oh, Anna. That man’s cock was like a dream come true—get it? Cum?” Anna rolled her eyes but remained silent, knowing Sally was on a roll. “And he definitely knew how to use it. He was like a professional pleasure giver—that perfect body of his, that fat cock plowing into me…. He made me scream louder than I’ve ever screamed before, and what he could do with his tongue…. I almost told him my last name.” Another sigh. “It was really too bad he fucking ghosted me.”

Anna started at the sudden turn in Sally’s words and tone.

“What? He ghosted you? Like…left you in the middle of the night?”

“Yep,” Sally replied, popping the ‘p’.

“Wow. You gonna be okay?” Anna asked, suddenly worried for her friend who’d always been the ghoster, never the ghostee. Sally, beautiful, stunning, outgoing, confident Sally, had never met a man she couldn’t seduce and skedaddle from in the dark of night. She always told Anna that the guys knew the score; one-night only. No strings. No numbers. Only first names. It kept things simple. After the shitshow that had been Sally’s childhood, she preferred simple. It was no wonder her older brother, Alejandro—AJ—was so guarded when it came to the time he spent with women.

In Sally’s case, though, she was an open book. A filthy, erotic, probably banned from Amazon book. One she read aloud to Anna almost every weekend.

“I’m fine, Anna. It was just sex. Amazing, bed shaking, orgasm redefining sex,” Sally said, though from the unfamiliar tone of voice, Anna knew there was more Sally wasn’t saying. “Anyhoo, are you still gung-ho about keeping your toesies out of the dating pool for now?”

This time, Anna sighed, her mind immediately filling with the totality of last night’s confrontation, coitus, and then claiming—care of Blaze Harris.

“Uh oh,” Sally sang-songed, “what is with that sigh? Did something happen?”

How in the hell did she do that? It was like Sallina Mendez was a freaking psychic in stilettos and silk thongs.

Anna pondered what—and how much—to tell Sally.

“Tell me everything!”

See?! Psychic!

“Well…when I came home last night, Blaze was waiting on the floor in front of my apartment door, pissed at me because I changed my locks and he’d just found out, and then he wouldn’t leave me alone until he talked to me, so we went into my apartment and he…he….” How did she explain what happened after?

“What?!” Sally cried. “Don’t leave me hanging! This sounds so much juicer than my night with Dick ‘n’ Ditch.”

Anna closed her eyes and took a second to line up her thoughts before continuing.

“He sort of…kissed me,” Anna admitted, pulling the phone from her ear when Sally let out a shriek loud and high enough to shatter eardrums.

“Are you serious? Ohmahgerd! Finally, the ass pulled his head out of his ass!”

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