Chapter 24
Calla
The next morning, I slip from Blake’s arms, in desperate need of emptying my bladder.
After washing my hands, I pad into his kitchen, filling the kettle up with water to boil before taking a wild guess and opening a cardboard box labelled ‘KITCHEN’ in search of two mugs.
I’m adding the milk to his coffee and my tea, when I feel arms band around my waist, large hands wandering past the hem of the oversized shirt I’m wearing to lay upon the ladder of my ribs.
“You’re up early,” Blake mutters deep in my ear, pressing a kiss to my neck.
I shiver in his hold, grinning wildly as I turn in his grasp. “I could say the same to you.”
“Mhm,” he hums against my cupid’s bow until I part my lips, allowing him to slide his tongue against mine. “I’ve got be. I’ve actually got a game this morning.”
I pull back to stare into his face. “A game?”
“Yeah. A football match. Some of the lads and I get together monthly to play against a local team. Hopefully…” He flicks his eyes to the side, glancing out of the window. “The weather will be on our side.”
I ignore the pang of disappointment ricocheting through my stomach. I don’t really know what I expected; us to spend the whole day together?
Swallowing back a mouthful of warm tea, I paint a faux grin upon my lips. “Sounds fun. What time do you kick off?”
“Gotta be there in about an hour and a half to set up, get all warmed up—”
“Cool,” I say, not meaning it. “I’ll—”
“Do you wanna come with?”
I blink in surprise before I nod, grinning. “I’d love to.”
A matching grin sprawls lazily across Blake’s plush lips. “Good. Do you wanna hop in the shower first?”
“First?” I lace my fingers through his and pull us both to standing. “You should know I’m an environmentalist, Blake. Showering twice is a complete waste of water, don’t you agree?”
He nods wordlessly.
“So, it’s probably favourable to just shower together.”
“God,” he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck, “I love that brain of yours.”
“We’re already running late, for god’s sakes just pick something, Calla.”
I make a face at the jumbled mess of my wardrobe, ignoring Blake’s call. It wasn’t until after I’d agreed to come and watch him play football, that I realized I couldn’t quite go in last night’s outfit, or something borrowed.
So, after a rather pleasurable shower, I plead my case, and we jumped on the next tube to my apartment.
That was – I peer at the time displayed on my lockscreen – almost thirty minutes ago.
Oops.
Although, it’s not completely my fault. If Blake would stop looking at me like he wants to devour me whole, then I might be able to get things done quicker. I might get to ask him what one wears to watch a football match, instead of forgetting my question in favour of kissing him.
Huffing, I reach for a summer dress stuffed in the back and shout back, “We’re only late because you couldn’t keep your hands off me in the shower.”
“You we’re the one who wanted to shower together!”
I giggle and grin, stepping into the stretchy cotton dress and begin to shimmy it up my thighs.
The usually dormant butterflies residing in my stomach take flight, flying up to the base of my throat until I feel breathless with a concoction of excitement, arousal and anticipation for what’s about to come.
“It’s called saving water, I—”
A large hand closes around the curve of my hip, startling me and ceasing the rest of my sentence from falling off my tongue.
“Easy, sunshine,” Blake mutters deeply into the shell of my ear, laying a kiss beneath my lobe.
I exhale raggedly, the sudden toothy bite of fear disappearing as fast as it arrived. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Blake hums low in his chest, the sound echoing against my bare back. “Mm.”
Spinning in his arms, I jab a finger into his sternum. “I thought I told you to stay in the kitchen.”
“You did,” he says, pressing his answer to my soft jawline. “But I thought you might need some help.”
“Help?” I raise a brow independently, although I feel it begin to fall flat when Blake opens his eyes and looks at me.
God, I could stare at those green iris’ all day, cataloguing to memory the tiny flecks of brown and gold bursting from the centre like a supernova.
“I wouldn’t call taking the clothes off my body, help. ”
“That comes later, Calla. If you’re good, of course.”
Spluttering, I all but choke while a burst of heat thrums through my core, flooding my knickers with fresh desire. I’ve got a nerve seeing as how I’m still wet from the two orgasms Blake gave me all before noon.
The smirk on Blake’s mouth tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Anyway,” he thumbs back and forth across the lace banding my hip, creating a soothing effect that has my eyes heavy.
Talk about confusing; my body isn’t sure if it wants to fall asleep, safe in Blake’s corded arms. Or if I want to push him down to the floor, crawl atop and ride him – again – until we’re both sated.
“Later,” Blake promises, sealing it with a kiss. “I’ll give your tight little pussy what she’s craving later, okay? But for now… no dresses.”
Without prompt, he yanks the stripy cotton material down to my ankles.
Blood thrumming hot, horny and aching, I frown at Blake, crossing my arms beneath the band of my bra. “What do you suggest I wear then?”
“Drop the attitude.” His eyes flick to the hardened points of my nipples, visible the thin lace. “Was two orgasms this morning not enough to fuck the trouble out of you?”
I shake my head, biting back a smirk. “My pussy maybe, but not out of my mouth.”
The calloused pad of Blake’s thumb traces the upper portion of my Cupid’s bow, his eyes tracking the movement. I allow him to touch me for a heartbeat, before I open my lips wide and suck his digit into my mouth, making sure to lave my tongue around the tip.
“Forgot about this smart little mouth,” he mutters, voice low, dark almost. “Guess she’ll have to wait until I can teach her a lesson… do you think you can wait, Calla?”
I almost say no, I almost drop to my knees and yank down his loose shorts to get my mouth on him. But I manage to hold back, pulling my mouth back from his thumb, instead sinking my upper teeth into my bottom lip and bobbing my head slowly.
“That’s it,” Blake coos, tracing his saliva coated thumb to my thrumming pulse point lying beneath the thin skin of my neck.
“Just imagine how good it’s going to feel once the wait is over.
You can spend all day getting that pussy nice and wet for me, so I can fuck her as soon as I’m done with the match. ”
“My mouth too?”
“Your mouth too,” Blake agrees, eyes half lidded. “Now get something you can sit comfortably in without being too warm. Maybe a pair of shorts?”
I make a grab for the overstuffed drawer beside Blake’s left hip, pulling out a crumpled pair of denim shorts that make my legs appear ten times longer than they actually are and a plain white tee.
Blake waits quietly and patiently as I get dressed, although I feel the heat of his eyes roving appreciatively across my body, before he grabs a palmful of my arse, places a quick peck to my lips and herds me to the front door.
“I found a cap and some sunglasses in one of your drawers,” he says as I loop a canvas tote bag over my shoulder and trot after him down the linoleum stairs, my trainers creating an annoying squeak with each step. “I put them in your bag.”
“This bag?”
Blake nods without even looking. “Mhm. Oh, and some suncream too. I didn’t know if you burn or not and well, we’re going to be outside for a couple of hours, so…”
I squint against the bright summer sun when we spill out into the street beyond, setting off at a rapid pace in the opposite direction I usually take. My shorter legs are no match for Blake’s long ones, but I still try to keep pace with him, even as I dig around in my bag for said sunglasses.
“How long was I in my wardrobe?” I marvel, sliding the glasses onto the bridge of my nose. They’re not my usual pair, but they’ll do.
“Long enough,” Blake muses, grabbing my hand and peering both ways up and down the road before he allows us to cross.
“Well, thank you.” I grin. “That’s very organised of you. Although, I didn’t peg you as a snooper.”
“Really?” Blake frowns and then smiles, leading me into the drafty underground. “I’m a massive snooper. It’s one of my only faults.”
I let out a belly laugh at that and I’m still giggling to myself as we slide through the turnstiles, onto the platform and manage to steal ourselves two seats in the middle of the busy carriage.
“So, what are your friends like?” I ask Blake, resting my cheek on his shoulder when the tube begins to jolt and sway. Already, I can feel a thin layer of sweat building in the small space between my two shoulder blades with how warm it is surrounded by other bodies.
“My friends?”
“Yeah, on your team. What are they like?”
“Loud, annoying, obnoxious. But I love them, even when they’re being little dickheads and doing my head in.”
I huff a laugh through my nose, watching London appear through the grimy underground windows before the tube rattles back beneath the streets, giving me a glimpse of old brick work tunnels and mildew laden pipes.
The rest of the journey, Blake stays strangely silent.
Is he having second thoughts about… us?
I look up when I feel Blake’s eyes on me, roving across my face, but as soon as I catch his eye he looks away. Swaying with the movement of the carriage trundling along the tracks, I swallow back that familiar venomous sting of rejection, the one that lacerates across my heart.
It cuts deep, deeper than I’d like to admit out loud, and I know it’s because I care.
My mother always used to tell me how big my heart was. Made of gold, she’d say, and “Ye wear it upon yer sleeve, Calla. So, wear it proudly.”
I’ve lost count how many times I’ve been told I’m too much, too loud, too wild, too caring, that I feel too much.
On a good day, the words typically bounce off me, ricocheting from my skin, created thick with age old wisdom and out of sheer necessary to survive in this sometimes extremely cruel world.
But not always.
Some days, they settle themselves beneath the surface of my skin, threatening to strike at me, to tear me down, until I can’t think straight.
Maybe I am all of those things…
I stay unusually quiet for the rest of the journey, my hand in Blake’s, but my thoughts elsewhere.
I allow my mind to float to the image of my mother, picturing her at home in the Emerald Isles.
Even though it’s a Saturday, she’s probably somewhere knees deep in the church that sits at the bottom of street, a mere walk from my childhood home.
She used to help out with the bi-weekly messy church sessions – a place for children to be play as freely as they wanted under the protection of Christ’s home – but I can’t recall the last time I asked her if the programme was still running.
Slackening my grip on Blake’s hand, I make a mental note to phone her more, to find out what’s going on in her life, even if only to hear the familiar comfort of her voice, the dulcet Irish tones I never hear anymore.
“Hey.” Blake relaces his fingers through mine, not allowing us to become separated. “Where’re you going? You alright?”
I glance up at him, cataloguing the green of his eyes, the long slope of his nose, the curve of his lips.
God, my mother would love him. She’d probably beg me to have his babies right this damn second.
But I’m not quite sure Blake would agree.
Especially seeing as how this thing between us… it’s confusing to say the least. Is it real? Is it fake?
Honestly, I don’t even know anymore.
And even scarier than that?
I’m not sure Blake does either.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying for a smile that falls flat within seconds.
“You sure?” He frowns, bringing his pretty face closer to mine. “Usually when a woman says she fine, it really means, she’s not fine at all.”
I resist, barely, the urge to ask him how he knows such a thing, instead squeezing his hand.
“Do you like me?”
Blake huffs out a quiet laugh. “Of course I like you, Calla.”
“Do you really?” I swallow dryly.
“You want the truth?”
I nod.
“I like you more than you can ever imagine, Calla,” he says. “More than I ever knew was possible. I’m all consumed by it, by you, by everything you do.”
“Blake—” I croak out.
“I didn’t plan on telling you all this while on the tube, mind. I wanted it to be—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck so I can kiss him. “This is more real life.”
“Yeah, well,” he laughs against my Cupid’s bow.
“Blake?”
“Mhm.”
“I really like you, too.”