Chapter 10 #2
A wildfire of heat rushes through me, searing hot, unstoppable. “Blake.”
“I know,” he hums, the cocky tone of his voice only serving to wind me up higher. “Christ, Calla, I want to feel you mould around me so fucking bad. Gonna carve a space for myself right here.” He dips the tip of himself into my core, feeding me a couple of inches before he pulls back with a grunt.
“Inside Blake. Please.”
“Say it again.”
“Please.” My hips buck, chasing the pressure. “Please, please, please.”
Winding his hands around his back, Blake wraps a hand around each of my ankles, thumbs caressing the bone.
“Lift your skirt to your waist, Calla.”
I do as he asks with a moment’s hesitation.
Blake urges my knees to bend, tucking them practically up to my chest, resting the soles of my feet on the edge of the kitchen counter.
“Don’t fucking move. Alright?”
I bob my head, squeezing my eyes shut tightly at the rush of cool air kissing the warm, wet flesh of my pussy.
“I still don’t have a condom…”
“Don’t care.” I swallow thickly. “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I trust you are too. Now, please—”
The rest of my sentence is dragged away, replaced by a gasp as Blake presses forward, filling me in one fell swoop.
“Fu—ckkk,” he groans, resting his cheek against my sweaty temple. “God, Calla…”
Using my hands and feet as leverage, I raise my arse an inch or so from the countertop, pushing my hips forward.
“I can’t wait another second,” I whine, gathering speed to fuck upon Blake. “Harder.”
Grabbing a hold of my upper thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh, Blake holds me still as he finds a rough rhythm.
His right thumb dips between us to strum at my clit, the soft strands of his hair falling across his eyebrows, tickling the top of my chest as he bends his neck to capture my nipple.
Hanging my head between my shoulder blades, dangerously close to the chipped cupboards, I bite my lower lip until I taste the tang of blood, desperately trying to smother the loud moans that threaten to escape.
This isn’t supposed to be happening. The last bloody thing I need is the neighbours reporting the sounds of somebody fucking in the apartment above which has been stood empty for the past three months.
“Watch your fucking head,” Blake spits through gritted teeth, the force of each thrust jolting me. His thumb leaves my clit, flying up to cup the back of my head, protectively.
A rush of warmth bubbles through me at Blake’s care for my well-being… before the rough, tidal wave of ecstasy yanks me back under, blowing my entire consciousness, and train of thought, to smithereens.
“Play with your little clit,” he directs, making my toes curl and my stomach pull tight at his tone. God, I like bossy Blake more than I care to admit to either of us. “Get yourself off, Calla.”
Not needing to be told twice, I slide two fingers above the space he and I are joined, feeling the walls of my pussy clench down as soon as I hit my sweet spot.
“Fuck yeah…” Blake grunts. “I can’t get enough of this perfect tight, little pussy squeezing me, milking my cock. You’re making me lose my mind, Calla”
I tightly grip Blake’s corded forearm with my other hand, nails piercing into his flesh as the balloon of pleasure in my stomach expands. The exquisite pressure steals the air from my lungs and the words from my tongue, leaving me a panting mess, tears collecting in the corners of my eyes.
“Blake,” I hear myself babble, scrabbling to pull him ever closer. “I’m close, I’m gonna—”
His large palm just manages to seal over my mouth, muffling my scream. Splashes of warmth gush between us, coating my inner thighs, before Blake surges forward, grinding himself against me.
“Gotta keep you full so you don’t make a mess and squirt all over,” he groans, jaw tight. “Open you’re fucking eyes, Calla.”
I wasn’t even aware I’d screwed them shut, but it takes every ounce of my energy to do as Blake asks, finding him to be staring down at me through heavy looking lids.
“Did you hear me, sweet girl? Gotta keep you stuffed full, so you don’t make a mess on the floor. Right?”
All I can do but nod my head, too far gone with ecstasy.
“Tell me I can cum inside you, Calla. Tell me I can fill you up until you have no choice but to walk out of here with me dripping down your legs.”
“Do it. Yes. Please, Blake. Do it.”
I feel him swell impossibly inside of me, cock kicking with each ribbon of his release painting my sensitive walls.
The single ticking of the kitchen clock, left behind from the apartment’s late tenant, is the only sound echoing across the walls, filling the space as Blake slides out of me, tucking himself back into his boxers and jeans.
I slip down from the countertop, my legs like a newborn deer, rightening my-probably-cum stained pencil skirt.
Holding my hand out, palm open, I flick my fingers in a come-hither motion. “My knickers?”
Blake shakes his head, patting his bulging back pocket. “Nuh uh, Calla. I want you dripping down your thighs, remember?”
“I—” I cough, swallowing roughly. “I thought you were joking.”
“I don’t joke, Calla. Not when it comes to something as serious as you, anyway.”
The honesty in his gaze burrows under my skin, trying it’s best to find its way to my heart.
Well, the jokes on Blake because I turn away before he can.
“This…” I lick my dry, kiss bitten lips. I don’t have a mirror handy on me, but I bet for a fact I look freshly fucked. Not to mention the already tacky feeling fluid I can feel kissing, coating, marking my inner thighs.
How did I let this happen?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Straightening my back, I slide the soles of my feet into my heels, giving myself a quick boost in height, to look Blake in the eye. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
He says nothing.
I try again. “Did you hear me?”
He nods once, lips thinning. “Agreed. It won’t happen again. I’ll sign the paperwork, and you can tell your boss I’ll take the apartment. I’ll be back out of your life before you know it, Calla.”
“Blake—”
Gripping his papers tightly, crumpled from our coupling, he sends a final tight smile my way, eyes dull and heavy looking, before making for the door. “Goodbye, Calla.”
I stand, my heart plummeting somewhere in the pits of my stomach, watching as he walks away and out of my sight. I hate the hot tears that prick my lower lash line, threatening to cascade.
I don’t get a chance to dissect the tightness starting in my heart, travelling all the way down to paralyse my stomach, causing an uncomfortable knot to form, before my phone begins to ring. The caller ID flashes aggressively; my boss’ name sprawled across the screen.
Batting away any and all thoughts of Blake, I jab my thumb into the accept button. “Hello, Mr McAvoy?”
“Calla,” he purrs. “How did the viewing go?”
“Good.” I push myself off from the wall I’ve been leaning against and force a smile onto my face. For once, I’m glad there’s nobody around to question the fakeness. “It went really well. My client, Mr M, would like to put in his paperwork…”