52. TESSA
TESSA
“Teenage me would be squealing right now,” I admitted, letting out a soft laugh. “Remember how you used to come to our house from your workouts, looking like you’d stepped off of a magazine cover?”
The distant city sparkled, while a quiet hum of traffic drifted all the way up here, to the terrace.
Strands of soft bulbs crisscrossed overhead, casting a warm amber glow across the plush patio furniture, while ivy climbed the weathered brick walls like nature’s own decoration.
The night breeze carried the last warmth of the day, playing through my hair, while Blake tucked me tighter against his side, the soft cashmere blanket caressing my skin.
I could hear a flicker of joy in Blake’s voice. “You used to watch me?”
“Like a live-in stalker.”
He chuckled.
“I used to have this fantasy that, one day, you’d spend the night with Ryker, and you would wait for him to fall asleep and sneak into my room.”
“Your brother would have castrated me.”
I shook my head, smirking. “We would’ve been quiet.”
Blake’s eyebrow arched playfully. “And what did you fantasize about doing with me?”
“Everything.”
When Blake shifted, I could tell that my words were already reactivating the launch sequence.
Same, Blake. Same.
My body apparently had plans to make up for lost time after all those years of stolen glances and careful distance. Now that I knew how his hands felt on my skin, how his breath caught when I kissed him, would I ever be able to look at him again without wanting more?
“At first, my fantasies were pretty vanilla. You know, missionary, that sort of thing, but the older I got, the more …” I wobbled my head. “Sophisticated my fantasies became.”
“I’m going to buy you an entire library of romance novels.”
I smiled.
“Meanwhile, give me an example.”
“So many to choose from. Where would I even begin?”
“Somewhere. Anywhere. Urgently, please.”
I grinned wider, sifting through the millions of fantasies I’d had of Blake all these years.
“One of my fantasies was pleasuring you.”
Blake groaned. A good groan. A holy crap, that is hot groan.
“I used to imagine that I would, like, hide beneath the table, where nobody else could see me, and you’d be sitting there, trying to be all serious and dark and brooding, but beneath the table, I’d have you in my mouth.”
He shifted his hand against his now-bulging front.
“Everyone else would see you being normal, but they wouldn’t be in on the secret. That beneath the tablecloth, you’d be buried in my throat.”
When Blake shifted his hips again, visibly uncomfortable with his growing erection, I shrugged the cashmere blanket off my shoulders and knelt between his legs. His smile expanded as he set down his wine, and I worked his waistband, pulling his pants to his ankles.
But just as my fingers reached for his boxer briefs, his cell phone rang.
Blake’s face transformed with a clenching jaw and eyes narrowing.
He stared at the screen like he was contemplating how satisfying it would be to chuck his iPhone off the roof.
Then a look of resignation settled over his features, like his duty as a doctor was cockblocking his personal life.
“I’m sorry, Tess.” The words came out through gritted teeth. “I have to take this.”
He jabbed the button. “Dr. Morrison.” His voice was professional, but barely masking his frustration. “Is the patient stable?” Pause. “Good. That means he’s not critical. Walk me through what you’ve done so far.”
Blake muted it for a second, running a hand through his hair. “Intern,” he explained, the word dripping with both sympathy and irritation. “The other ER doc is working a critical case, so I have to walk him through this. Sorry, it might take a while.”
I caught the important details in his explanation like breadcrumbs: patient stable, not critical, other doctor just busy.
That sounded like something he could … multitask. Right?
I tugged his boxers.
“What are you doing?” Blake whispered, covering his phone’s microphone.
“Take your call, Dr. Morrison. I’ll find a way to entertain myself.”
I smirked mischievously and rolled my tongue along the crown of his head.
Blake’s eyes darkened, but he reached for the thread of resistance.
“Stop,” he whispered.
Giving him another mischievous smile, I trailed my tongue down along the shaft and then slowly drew it up, performing swirling circles on the crown, watching as Blake’s mouth hung open in ecstasy.
I repeated the moves several times while Blake struggled to keep his voice level and even, answering a series of questions from this intern.
All while boring his hungry stare into me.
It occurred to me that Blake was this powerful doctor who other people called for advice.
But here he was, at the mercy of my tongue.
After one long final swirl around the tip, I drew him into my mouth slowly.
Methodically. His girth made it difficult, so I pulled back up and then took him in, one inch at a time.
I wasn’t sure if the intern could hear the change in Blake’s tone, but I definitely did. I definitely felt his fingers lock on the back of my head as I took him deeper into my mouth until I hit a gag reflex.
My eyes watered, so I pulled back, but focused on relaxing my throat until I took him all the way in.
That made his head roll back, his voice becoming more impatient with the intern’s never-ending list of questions. While he spouted a bunch of medical jargon, I began bobbing.
I liked tasting him. I liked having him in my mouth, and I liked being the one that was secretly pleasuring him.
The conversation seemed to go on for an eternity, but I loved every moment of it. Every stroke, every lick, every finger tug at my hair, and all the while, I was getting hotter and hotter, an aching pulse demanding attention between my thighs.
Freeing myself of my clothing from the waist down, I climbed on top of him and glided him into my warm, aching need.
When I accidentally moaned, Blake covered my mouth with his hand.
But he didn’t stop me. Not when I began to move, not when I found my rhythm, and not when I moved his hand from my mouth to my sex, biting my lip as he performed slow circles with this thumb.
I couldn’t even make out what Blake was saying, but his eyes …
His eyes were glued to my sex taking him in me.
This was so much hotter than any of my fantasies, a wave of pleasure rising embarrassingly quickly.
As it finally crashed around me, he had to abandon circling my sensitive bud to clamp his hand over my mouth again while I twitched and jerked from the orgasm. Burying my face in his neck.
Suddenly, he clicked the red button on his cell phone, chucked it aside, and said, “Up. Now.”
He tugged my body away from him.
“Sit on the sofa.”
It was actually a patio couch, but I wasn’t going to correct him.
“Now turn around, throw your legs up over the back, and dangle your head down.”
I realized instantly what he was doing. He was positioning me upside down, my head and mouth dangling off the edge, in the perfect position for me to deep-throat him.
I happily obliged, opening my jaw as he knelt in front of me.
And thrust so deeply and quickly into my mouth that I gagged.
Pulling back slightly, Blake grabbed the back of my head. And started pistoning in and out of my mouth.
“Want me to pull out?” he asked.
With him finding his rhythm, I shook my head slightly.
My answer made him groan and thrust his hips harder.
I relaxed my throat, taking every inch of him until, finally, he stilled and roared.
I could feel the warmth of his climax in the back of my throat, could feel him quivering as he caught his breath and then, after several seconds, freed himself.
“My turn,” he announced.
I blinked. I wasn’t expecting him to return the favor, but when he lay down on the ground, I wasn’t going to argue with him either.
“On my face, Cupcake. Now.”
The throbbing between my thighs was almost unbearable as I positioned my knees on either side of his head, and then he pulled my sex to his mouth.
I ran my fingers through his hair as his skilled tongue found its tempo. My hips began to move, gyrating and quivering as he locked eyes with me, bringing me to the brink and holding me tightly until I crashed around him. Around my Blake.