Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
BLAKE
-jealous guy-
Sarah's laugh trails off as she heads into the bathroom, the door clicking shut with a snap. We are frozen in the hallway for a beat. The air still hums between us. Her body is pressed so close I can feel her heartbeat on my chest. My pants stretch tight from how much harder she has made me.
I pull back just enough to look down at her. Her lipstick is smudged, her cheeks are flushed, and her lovely eyes are wide and dark with desire.
And I think…
God, she's beautiful like this, caught off guard. So vulnerable, so innocent, so fucking hot. It tugs at something deep in me, making my pulse thud heavier.
"Well, that was... awkward," she murmurs, her voice breathy, a soft laugh escaping as her trembling fingers touch her swollen mouth.
I keep my hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath. "No, it’s not awkward. I want the world to know you’re mine."
Her eyes widen with shock. “You do?” she whispers.
“Yeah, I do,” I confirm, stepping back but not letting go entirely, my palm sliding to the small of her back as I guide her toward the dining room.
The jazz music from the main room grows louder with each step, and I feel like I'm a teenager again, caught making out in the shadows, and wanting the whole world to know I’ve scored. Not just scored, scored big. I got the girl all the other boys want.
We approach the booth, and Jason is alone, scrolling through his phone.
Carolyn is quiet beside me, her steps hesitating, and I wonder if she's feeling it too, the flush from being interrupted.
Her hand brushes mine by accident, and it sends a spark up my arm that makes me want to take her home and finish what we started.
Jason glances up from his phone as we slide into the booth, and I signal the waiter for the check. A knowing grin spreads on his face, but he says nothing, just sips his bourbon. Sarah slides back in a minute later, winking our way.
"Everything good?" she asks, innocent but teasing.
Carolyn nods, her cheeks still pink, as she reaches for her water glass. She takes a sip, avoiding my eyes.
The check comes, and I sign it. We say our goodbyes, and Jason claps my shoulder. "See you Monday."
The night air is waiting outside.
As we head home, city lights streak past on the FDR. The East River is dark and restless to our right. I grip the wheel tighter, nerves twisting in my gut.
The thought of her in my bed makes my throat dry with excitement. My glance flicks to her in the passenger seat, her profile soft in the dashboard glow, fingers drumming lightly on her knee.
God, I want her—want to peel that dress off, slowly, feel her skin under my hands, hear her gasp my name.
"You’re very quiet," I say finally, voice low, reaching over to rest my hand on her thigh. Her muscle tenses at my touch. I run my hand up her silky inner thigh, and a small shiver runs through her. I feel her reaction in my bones, her breath catching just enough to send a spark up my arm.
"Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Bessant. I’ve got plans for you, and I need you to be in one piece for them," she murmurs, covering my hand with hers, lacing our fingers. The touch is simple but the words are electric.
The estate's gates loom ahead. The silence stretches, loaded—neither of us saying what we're thinking.
Inside, the house is dark and still, and the foyer chandelier is dimmed and in its night setting.
The sound of the ocean's crash is faint.
We move to the base of the stairs and pause.
Taking charge, my arm slips around her waist, and her hip brushes mine.
We head upstairs, my heart thudding steadily. At the landing, she glances toward her door, then back at me.
"Do you... Do you want to take a shower together?" I ask, my thumb tracing circles on her lower back through the silk.
"A shower? Together?" she echoes, voice a mix of surprise and something vulnerable.
I nod, holding her gaze.
She smiles slowly. "Yeah. I do, actually."
We veer toward her room. The space feels intimate and unfamiliar all at once, with her perfumes on the dresser.
The door clicks shut behind us, sealing us in.
I turn to her, hands on her shoulders. She meets my eyes, a sexy smile tugging at her lips, but her fingers fumble at the halter tie behind her neck, awkward in the quiet, like we're teenagers again.
"Here, let me," I murmur, stepping closer, my fingers brushing hers as I undo the halter knot, the silk whispering as it loosens.
She lets out a shaky breath as the dress slips down and pools at her feet in a red puddle, leaving her in the sexiest pair of black lace panties I’ve ever seen in my life.
Her skin glows pale in the low light, nipples peaking from the chill of the air-conditioning.
She shifts, self-conscious, eyes darting away.
I get on my knees and smell her mound. Her scent drives me wild, and I am helpless to stop myself.
I kiss her lace-covered sex. Pulling the crotch of her panties to one side, I slip my tongue into her soaking wet slit.
“Oh, Carolyn…” I sigh. No more waiting. I pull the scrap of lace down and throw one of her legs over my shoulder.
Her hands land on my shoulder as her glistening pussy opens up in front of my face.
Heat rushes to my groin. It’s a call I cannot refuse.
I lean forward and suck the pink fruit. I suck her until she shudders uncontrollably and comes in my mouth.
Her juices run down my face and chin and wet my shirt.
Never taking my eyes off her, I stand and strip, jacket shrugged off and tossed to a chair, shirt buttons popping open one by one—quickly, but my hands aren't all that steady. The air is thick with charged desire. Pants next, sliding down with my boxers, leaving me hard and exposed, aching already.
She steps forward then, her hands landing on my chest lightly, fingers trailing down my abs in exploratory strokes, like she's relearning me.
A small gasp escapes her when she brushes lower, feeling my hardness twitch under her touch, and I pull her close, our bodies aligning—before settling into that perfect fit.
"Shall we?" I ask, my lips brushing her ear.
I feel her nod, and hear her breathy "Yes."
The bathroom warms quickly as I flip on the lights, soft and recessed.
Steam rises from the rainfall head, and the marble tiles are cool under my feet as we step in, her hand in mine.
Under the spray, water hot and pounding, soaks us both.
The tension builds fast—my hands on her back, soapy and slick, pulling her close.
Her breasts press warm against me, nipples hard points that make me groan low.
We lather deliberate, fingers lingering—mine tracing her spine in long, teasing paths, drawing out shivers; hers exploring my chest, slow circles that turn bolder, nails grazing lightly, pulling a hiss from me.
As the suds rinse away, she starts talking, voice breathy, without focus. "Jason and Sarah... They seem happy, don't they? Like they've got it figured out, date nights and all." Her hands pause on my hips, fingers digging in a bit.
"Yeah...” As if I care. My hands slide lower, cupping her ass gently, squeezing just enough to make her gasp again, sharp and needy.
She turns in my arms, her eyes meeting mine, vulnerable and heated, water streaming down her face.
“What if it rains?” she says, her forehead against my chest. Her hands are on my hips now, fingers digging in deeper.
My hardness pressing against her belly, throbbing with each word, her gasps interrupting as my fingers tease lower, brushing the edge of her soft folds.
The heat builds between us, not rushing, lingering in the moment—her breath quickening as I kiss her neck, nipping gently to draw out a moan, low and trembling. Murmuring ideas: “What?”
“You know, the charity gala. What if it rains?”
“You can always use the ballroom here, as a backup,” I offer.
“But it won’t fit the theme.”
I smile. “It can. You’ll make it work.”
A small moan escapes her lips as my touch turns teasing, fingers circling her clit.
Her hips buck, and her gasp turns to a whimper.
She clings to me as the water pounds steadily.
The stall turns into our world, tense with want, sweet with this new closeness.
My free hand cups her breast, thumb rolling her nipple until she arches, moaning my name in broken syllables.
"Blake... Blake… Oh, God."
Her eyes are dark with need as I carry her dripping body through the bathroom and deposit her on my bed. We fall into bed in a tangle, soaking the sheets. I roll over her and hover on top of her on my elbows. Our breaths mingle.
Her eyes lock on mine, wide and laced with heat—a silent question, a plea.
"Blake," she whispers, her voice breaking on my name, fingers tracing my jaw with a tremble that betrays her nerves.
I feel it too, this strange moment like we're on the edge of something irreversible, my heart slams against my ribs as I lean down and brush my lips over hers in a feather-light kiss.
"God, you're beautiful," I murmur against her neck, feeling her pulse jump under my lips.
“What if I weren’t your wife? What if you just met me tonight?” she asks.
“But you are.” I slide my hand lower, fingers brushing her inner thigh, inching toward her heat.
She bites her bottom lip. “Tonight, can we play a game? Can we pretend we’re strangers who met in a bar and decided to spend the night together? We’re just ships passing in the night.”
I’m rock hard and throbbing against her thigh, the heat between us is building like a storm so I would have agreed to anything. “Yeah, sure,” I mutter. “Do you have a name?”
For a second, she tenses, then she whispers, “Juliet. Tonight, I’m Juliet.”
I stop and stare into her eyes. “And what does Juliet want?”
“Fuck me as if we’ve only got tonight. You’ll never see me after tonight.”
“Got it.” I shift, positioning myself at her entrance. "Tell me if it's too much," I rasp, voice rough with restraint.
She nods, her hands clutching my back now, nails digging in as I push in, feeling her tightness envelop me inch by inch.
She gasps, a mix of surprise and pleasure, her walls clenching around me in hesitation before relaxing, pulling me deeper with a wet slide that draws a shared moan—hers high and breathy, mine low and ragged.
"Oh... God," she moans, the sound drawn out, echoing in the quiet room as I bottom out, buried fully, our hips flush, pulsing together.
We stay like that for a moment, frozen in the intensity, her breath coming in short, heated pants against my shoulder, my own growl rumbling low as I start to move.
I pull back almost all the way, the drag exquisite and torturous, her whimper protesting the loss before I slam in deep.
Each stroke draws out more whimpers. She gasps my name in broken syllables as I put in place a punishing rhythm, the slap of skin on skin mixing with the raw, wet sounds of my cock pummeling her tender pussy.
Sweat slicks between us. Breasts bouncing wildly, her legs are wrapped around my waist, and her heels dig into my back as she meets my merciless thrusts, her hips rolling up boldly to take me harder.
"Fuck... yes," I groan, the heat coiling tight in my gut, my hand slipping between us to circle her clit, feeling her jolt and cry out, as she clenches around me tighter, her body trembling.
Our movements turn into pure fire, her nails raking down my back, leaving trails that sting deliciously.
Her fingers twist in the sheets, knuckles white, as I lean down, capturing a nipple in my mouth, sucking hard as I thrust deeper. Her keening moans are muffled against my shoulder.
"Don't stop," she gasps, voice desperate now, head thrown back against the pillow, exposing her throat for me to kiss, suck, and mark her with my teeth and tongue.
I feel her building, her body trembling under mine.
“Blake, I'm... oh God…" And when she comes, it's with a shattered cry, her walls pulsing around me in waves that milk me relentlessly, pulling my own release. A guttural roar rips from my throat as I spill into her. Still thrusting hard, we ride the wave together.
When it’s over, we lie in the afterglow, tangled, breaths ragged, and sweat cooling on our skin. Before sleep pulls us under, I remember to mumble. “Goodnight, Juliet. We should do this again.”