Chapter 5
Calla
I’m cottoning on quickly just how easy Blake is to wind up.
And embarrass.
I squirm against the leather seat of the taxi, pressing my thighs together tightly to try and quell the ache pulsating in my core.
But it does no good. I can feel how wet my knickers are; all I can hope is that I don’t leave a damp spot on the seat.
Blake’s thick fingers wrap around my inner thigh, dangerously close to my core, bringing his face close to mine until he can kiss me again.
So caught up in the feel of him surrounding me, leaving my mind heady, I barely register the movement of his hand until the backs of his fingers are trailing over the centre of my knickers.
He pulls back, a grin curling up at the edges of his mouth, when he feels how wet I am.
“This all for me, Calla?”
I can’t speak, so I nod my head instead.
My eyes momentarily flick to the unopen box of condoms laying haphazardly on the leather seat between Blake and I.
Ribbed for her pleasure.
I’d only picked those up as a joke. I had no qualms that Blake would know exactly what to do in the bedroom; something he was proving me right – very right – as he chooses this exact moment to swipe the pad of his thumb over the swollen bud of my clit through my soaked knickers.
But the blush that had coated his cheeks was adorably cute.
Although, right now, there’s nothing cute about Blake at all. The stuttering, flame cheeked man I’d seen a glimpse of only a handful of minutes ago, is gone. Completely erased.
In his place, sits a very attractive man who knows exactly which buttons to press and when.
I’m liable to cum in the back of this taxi if he’s not careful and I think Blake knows it too if the smirk on his lips is anything to play by.
I huff, squirming, my fingers spreading wide to grip the plastic ‘oh shit’ handle above my head.
I’m not sure if I want to move closer, or if I want to move away from Blake’s thick fingers, which are bringing me closer and closer to the edge with each pass of his thumb.
“Now who’s flushed, hm?”
Smug bastard.
And ugh. Why do I like it?
A fresh wave of arousal runs through me, causing a full body shiver and an outbreak of gooseflesh to erupt over my chest.
Blake’s lips hover an inch away from mine, but never quite landing.
Up this close, I can see the tinge of blue in his iris; less forest green than I originally thought. Two twin dimples bracket either side of his mouth, his laughter lines deeply etched as if he smiles often.
I like that.
I like it a lot.
Small creases decorate the sides of his eyes too; the fine lines staying there even when his features relax. It gives him a slight rugged look that doesn’t quite match his styled hair, the perfectly ironed button down he wears and the polished shine of his shoes.
I wonder how old he is? Late twenties I’d say, if I had to guess. Maybe my age – twenty-seven – or perhaps a year or two older? I’m about to ask, my lips parting, tongue darting out to wet my kiss bitten flesh, when the taxi driver slams on his breaks abruptly.
“Is here alright, mate?”
I follow Blake’s gaze to peer out of the window, a high-rise grey apartment block swimming into my vision.
“Here’s fine,” Blake replies, slowly, so fucking slowly, pulling his hand out of my skirt and trailing his fingers along the inner portion of my thigh.
He holds his mobile aloft to the portable card machine until it flashes from green to red, threading his fingers through mine and placing a foot out on to the street beyond, before the taxi driver can even say thank you.
I follow Blake across the pavement to the glass double doors of the high-rise apartment block, waiting as he punches in a four-digit code and then shoves the door open with his broad shoulder.
He ushers me into the – thankfully – empty elevator first, jabbing his knuckle into one of the lit-up buttons for his floor and then moulding his hands to the curve of my hips, keeping me close to him.
I tilt my head, peering up at him, feeling my stomach flutter.
Um…
“I’ll pay you back for the ride when we get upstairs” I say, mainly to pull my thoughts away from fluttering butterflies and back into the very reason we’re here, riding the elevator to Blake’s apartment.
“I don’t want paying back,” he replies gruffly, smoothing his fingertips along the satin feel of my skirt.
“Well, I want to,” I argue, squeezing the box of condoms in my palm until the sharp plastic edges dig into my flesh, sure to leave a red groove behind. “Pay you back and ride you. That is.”
I catch the second Blake’s eyes widen in surprise, before he laughs, loudly, throwing his head back, throat exposed.
He’s still guffawing throatily as the doors open with an over enthusiastic ding, grabbing my hand to lead me down a short, plain, whitewashed corridor lined with a door on either side.
With practised ease, Blake threads his key into the lock, twisting it and tugging me inside.
I don’t get much of glimpse of the interior, before Blake’s lips descend onto mine, one hand in my hair, the other pushing the hem of my skirt up toward my hips.
I’m just as desperate to touch him, to feel him inside of me.
My heart hammers wildly against my ribcage, as I wrap my left leg around Blake’s trim waist, kissing him back just as desperately.
“Hmph,” I huff when my back makes solid contact with a wall, Blake’s grip around both of my thighs, tightening.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against my Cupid’s bow.
I suck his tongue into my mouth in response.
Crossing my ankles at the centre-most point of Blake’s lower back, I tilt my pelvis up an inch or two, passing my core against the hard bulge in his jeans.
“Calla—shit.” I grin into his stubble coated jawline, pleasure rumbling through me.
I drag my cloth covered pussy over him again, tipping the crown of my head back to rest upon the cool wall. Blake’s fingers dig into the thick flesh of my arse, urging me to keep going even when my heels fall from the arches of my feet, hitting the laminate tile of his flooring with a clatter.
“Do you have downstairs neighbours?” I pant, chest rising and cresting rapidly.
Blake nods, nibbling on the curve of my neck. “They can complain if they want. I don’t really give it a shit.”
I giggle, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment as he carries me through to his bedroom. It smells like him, I realise, somewhere deep in the back of my mind; a mixture of the expensive aftershave I’ve licked from his neck and a man’s deodorant.
My toes curl instinctively at the very thought.
There’s something about this man wrapped under me, that has my hind brain whizzing into overdrive and slowly turning to mush.
Good god.
The things I want Blake to do to me is enough to make even the most liberated, sex positive person, blush. I hope he’s up for the challenge. Otherwise, I’ll be going home with my tail between my legs and jilling myself off the second I walk through the door.
Perching himself on the bottom-most edge of his bed, Blake rests my arse on his corded thigh.
My now bare feet just skim the floor. I stare at him through heavy lidded eyes, waiting, watching, for his next move.
My heart jumps in my chest when he runs the pad of his thumb over my lower lip, slowly, taking his time to trace every line and crease that make up part of my DNA.
His flesh is slightly calloused in the way some men’s hands usually are, telling of hard work and a substantial lack of moisture.
It sends a prickle of heat through me with each gentle touch, leaving my nipples beading up against my dress.
I ache to grab Blake’s hand and feel his rough-hewn skin on the sensitive, soft flesh of my breasts. To feel him pluck and twist the bud of my nipple until I cry out, skin so warm it’s pulled tight across my bones, the zap of pain erasing all other thoughts in my head.
But I stop myself. Just for a second.
I want to see what he does next first.
I want to see if he’ll give me what I need or if I’ll need to push him to deliver my pleasure just the way I like it; a little rough with a sprinkle of pain and a dash of dutiful care.
Blake’s thumb pulls down my bottom lip, strumming it, until he fits it between my clenched front teeth.
“Open, Calla.”
I fold.
Swallowing back a full body shiver, I part my lips and my teeth.
Blake’s pupils blow wide, his digit slipping further into my mouth until he brushes across the warm, wet surface of my tongue.
A whimper escapes me, quickly followed by Blake’s groan of pleasure.
It’s as if we’re fuelling each other; two livewires dancing around the same circuit.
I flatten my tongue, opening my mouth wider, my eyes fluttering shut as Blake grazes back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. With his thumb coated in my spit, he glides to the fleshy side of my cheek, pressing there until I feel my flesh bulge under his touch.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you, Calla.”
Blake slides his thumb from my mouth so I can answer him, coating my lips with my own saliva.
“I want you to touch me.”
“Touch you where?”
“My pussy.”
“And then?” Blake’s warm lips press themselves to my jaw.
“Then…” I inhale shakily. “I want to suck you off. Or maybe the other way around. I’m not picky—ungh.”
My hand shoots out to pin Blake’s wrist, which has conveniently found itself beneath my skirt to dance along my cloth covered core.
A slight nibble of my earlobe has a jolt of pain running through me before it’s replaced by a shiver of ecstasy as Blake uses his thumb to pull my knickers to the side, slipping two thick fingers beneath the material to touch my bare, sodden flesh.
“Blake.”
He passes along my seam once, twice, thrice, four times, groaning softly when he feels my wetness coat his skin.
But then he’s pulling his hand from me, leaving me wet and whining, taking my lace underwear with him.
Blake tugs until they land on a pile on his floor, bright white against his otherwise mahogany floorboards.
He gives my bare knee a quick pat and then spreads his legs wide, unseating me.
I watch as his hand, the one slick with my desire, lands on the hard bulge tenting his jeans. Blake gives himself a rough squeeze, clenching his jaw until it ticks with pressure, and then tips his chin towards where his feet lay flat on the ground.
“Ladies first, then.”
Ladies first?
Oh.
Ohhh.
He does want to play. Good for him.
Even better for me.
It would be too obvious to rub my hands together like an evil cartoon character, so I settle for fluttering my lashes instead while I slip from Blake’s knee.
“Dress on or off?” I ask, sweetly.
“Your choice,” he replies hoarsely, his eyes bouncing up and down the length of me as if he doesn’t know where he wants to settle his gaze. I can’t blame him. I know I’m not a bad thing to look at; blonde hair, big boobs, a reasonable sized arse moulded from hours of dancing.
If Blake wants to look at me all day, I’m certainly not going to be the one to stop him.
“My choice, hm?” Standing in between his spread legs, I peer down at Blake, the weight of his pretty green-eyed stare only serving to spur me on.
I raise both of my hands, slowly peeling at the satin material covering my shoulders, allowing it to slip easily along my soft skin.
Blake watches every move, his swallow audible in the otherwise silent room but doesn’t say another word.
Interesting.
I pull the short costume dress down further, sighing when the cool air around me makes contact with my tits, biting at my nipples until they pull tight and peak.
My long hair tickles my upper and mid back as I push the dress past my stomach, past the small pooch at the bottom I once hated as a teenager but soon grew to love when I learnt it’s simply there to protect my sacred womb and past my hips.
The material falls to the floor with a soft thump, tulle tickling the tops of my feet. A wash of gooseflesh pricks at my flesh, but it’s not because I’m cold.
No, Blake’s predatory gaze on my pussy has my blood thrumming so hot I feel like I’m burning up from the inside out.
It’s hard to think of anything else but the desire running through me when Blake squeezes his cock again, never once tearing his eyes away, as he slowly pushes the metal button through the slit.
The sound of his zipper breaking apart is loud in the otherwise silent room of his apartment.
As is my helpless whimper when Blake fishes his hard cock from his boxers, the long length of him bobbing against his toned lower abdomen.
My mouth waters.
He’s big enough that I already know it’s going to be a struggle to take him, I can feel it in the slightly nervous rapid fluttering of my pulse along my neck. But it’s a challenge I’m going to enjoy winning, especially when I have a suspicion, I’ll be feeling Blake for days after tonight.
I’m certainly not complaining, and neither is my pussy with the way she’s leaking slick arousal down my inner thighs.
Blake’s eyes are still steadfastly locked on mine, distracting me from the task at hand.
Ha. At hand. Get it?
I giggle at my own joke, ignoring Blake’s furrowed brow in favour of gathering my hair to lay it over one shoulder and bending at my knees.
“Do you want a pillow for your knees?” he asks. Oh, ever the gentleman. If this man can fuck me seven ways to Sunday the way I think he can, then he’s a dangerous package all wrapped into one.
Kind.
Handsome.
Good job.
Big cock.
God. How is a man like Blake still roaming the streets single?
I shake my head no, resting my arse on the soles of my feet and licking my lips.
Up this close, I can see the deliciously long blue vein running along the underside of Blake’s cock as he fists himself once from root to tip, a pearlescent bead of precum beading from his tip, flushed red with fresh blood.
I want to lick it. To see which parts of him will make him shiver and groan inhibited.
I like my men vocal – helpless with pleasure. It’s an endorphin rush, even more so when I know I’m the one coaxing those sounds from their mouths. Blake doesn’t strike me as the type to let his ecstasy be all that audible. I bet he swallows it down.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I want to see how far I can push him.