2. Kat
2
KAT
E verything about him is intoxicating.
I’d chalk my fuzzy brain up to the glass of wine I had while waiting for the Tinder date who stood me up, plus the glass of beer that I almost finished, but I was feeling clear-headed enough until Blake touched me.
The second he put his arm around me in that protective gesture, I started to lose my senses.
It’s the only reason I can think of for why, instead of calling an Uber to take me back home, I’m sharing one with Blake, headed to wherever he lives.
“Ardmore,” he says, in answer to my unasked question. “Not too far from here.”
I swallow hard, his low voice doing something to my insides. “I live in Ardmore, too. Over by the college.”
Going home with a stranger isn’t the smartest idea. I get that. But I texted Angela and Naomi—my best friends—Blake’s address, which he gave me when he ordered the Uber.
And Blake dragged me along when he went to tell his friends he was leaving. Most serial killers wouldn’t give their friends that courtesy. As far as I know, at least.
Blake sits in the middle seat, while I’m on the driver’s side, both of us in the back seat of the sedan. I’ve never seen someone willingly take the middle, but it didn’t take long to figure out his game.
His hand rests on his thigh, and since our thighs are touching, his little finger is on my leg, too. He moves it in a circular pattern that has my stomach dropping.
The small movement lights my entire body on fire, and he’s barely touching me.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” he murmurs, sending a new wave of heat coursing through my body and settling between my legs.
Our Uber driver, a little old man whose name is Norbert, according to the app, ignores us, focusing on the road .
“Up here on the left, Norbert,” Blake says, not moving his lips away from my jaw.
When Norbert pulls the car into the driveway of a well-maintained, one-story home, I’m practically ready to jump out of my skin with lust.
I don’t go home with men, as a rule. The last time I had a one-night stand was during grad school, and even then, I turned it into a relationship. It lasted three tumultuous weeks, and I learned that undergrad frat parties are not the best places to meet guys.
Tonight, I was doing it right, or so I thought—meeting up with a guy for an actual date. We met on Tinder, and we’ve been messaging back and forth for a couple of weeks. Tonight, we were going to meet for a drink and see where things went.
And then he never showed, the creep hit on me and wouldn’t take no for an answer until I made Blake stand in as my boyfriend, and now here we are.
“This is your house?” I ask, then immediately cringe.
That’s a dumb question. Of course it’s his house, Kat. Why the hell else would we be here?
The Uber backs out of the driveway, leaving me alone with Blake, who just nods in answer to my question.
He reaches over and slaps my ass, making me jump .
“Get that hot little ass in the house, babe,” he says, his voice almost a growl. “I have plans for you.”
God, do I want to see the plans he has for me.
He smacks my ass again, and fuck if I don’t love it. I walk toward the front door and pause there while he unlocks it and turns on a light.
The home is exactly what I’d expect from the short time I’ve known Blake. So far, the vibe I get from him is straightforward, no bullshit. Nothing is subtle here—dark tones of navy and gray, stainless steel, dark wood. Simple, clean lines, a minimalist feel. Clean, empty surfaces without any clutter.
He turns on another light, this one to what must be the living room, which has dark wood paneling with off-white crown molding. A leather couch—no throw pillows in sight. A sleek coffee table holding a single book.
I step farther into the room and read the title— COLORADO.
“Is that where you’re from?” I ask, looking back at Blake.
My stomach bottoms out at the sight of him rolling up his shirtsleeves. At some point, he undid the top button of his Oxford shirt, revealing a smattering of dark chest hair.
God, he’s hot. I’d say he’s out of my league, even, but I’m Kathleen Fucking Milas. As my parents drilled into me from a young age, I’m in a league of my own.
“No.” Blake steps toward me, closing in the way he did in the bar, the way that makes me feel his height over me, even though with my heels on, I’m only a couple of inches shorter than him.
He slides an arm around my waist, settling his hand on the small of my back, and I set my hands on his chest. His pecs flex under my hands. He’s solid, strong. All man.
His smell wafts around me. It’s one of those manly scents, woody and spicy and intoxicating. It’s almost indescribable, but I know I’ll never be able to forget it. I inhale deeply, pulling more of him into me.
“Kat.” Blake uses his free hand to tip my chin upward with one finger, his other hand still on my back, pressing me into him. His bright-blue eyes are hypnotic, standing out in contrast to his dark, close-cropped hair. “Do you want this?”
I nod, breathlessly. Because I do. I want him .
“Because I’m warning you now, in the bedroom, I’m…rough. I like control. Are you okay with that?”
My pussy responds with a gush of arousal because I do want him to be rough. To take me however he wants. I spend most of my life being in a position of authority at work, and sometimes I want to not have to think.
“Fuck, yes.” I narrow my eyes the tiniest bit, before I give up the control. “One night, though. No strings.”
“You’re too fucking perfect.” Blake’s mouth crashes down on mine, hard and demanding.
I melt beneath his power as his lips tease mine. He bites down on my bottom lip, hard enough that I gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. I moan as he claims my mouth.
When he pulls back, I gasp for air, leaning against him because my legs don’t want to support me anymore.
“Bedroom,” he says, nipping at my lip again.
I just nod, following him on shaky legs through the darkened kitchen and down a short hallway.
Blake pushes open a door. A sliver of moonlight from a large window illuminates enough for me to make out a king-sized bed, dark wood furnishings. A framed art print on one wall that I can’t quite make out the details of.
He spins me around to face him. I teeter on my heels before I kick them off. In bare feet, he’s a good six inches taller than me. It makes him seem that much more dominant as he undoes the buttons of my shirt, one at a time, revealing the lacy, cream-colored bra that matches the thong I’m wearing beneath my skirt.
For the record, the lingerie wasn’t for my Tinder date. I happen to like wearing matching sets. It makes me feel sensual, confident. It’s my little secret, knowing that beneath my buttoned-up exterior, I’m still sexy and feminine.
And the way Blake is looking at me reinforces all of that.
Pulling the shirt out from where it’s tucked into the pencil skirt, he undoes the last button and pushes the shirt wide, holding it with both hands.
“Fuck,” he says, thumbs brushing the lace. “Fucking gorgeous.”
He runs his hands down my sides to the top of my skirt as my head falls back at his touch. I’ve never known that just the act of undressing could be so erotic, but then, I’ve never been with a man like Blake. So alpha, so in control.
Unzipping my skirt, he pushes it down to the floor, and I step out of it.
He growls—actually fucking growls —and then he’s spinning me, moving us so fast that I’m dizzy as he pushes me up against a wall, my back to him, and brings my hands over my head. He holds my hands there, pinning me against the wall as his other hand explores my body.
His touch is light as he moves his fingers across the swell of my breasts, down my flat stomach, over my hipbone, along the crease where my thigh meets my pelvis.
With every touch, I’m more and more turned on, my underwear a complete lost cause at this point with how soaked I am.
Blake’s fingers brush against the crotch of my panties, and I know he feels it too.
“You’re so wet for me,” he says, his voice low in my ear as his stubble scrapes my cheek. “So fucking wet.”
All I can do is moan, every bit of my vocabulary vanished from my mind under his touch.
“I want to fuck you up against this wall, take you just like this.” He bites a spot on my neck, just above my shoulder. “But first I’m going to fuck you in my bed. Hard.”
He spins me again, walking forward while I move backward until my legs hit the edge of his bed. Even now, my body is completely under his control.
Blake grips my hips and lifts me onto the bed. He hooks his fingers into my underwear and slips them off in one movement, then drops them to the floor .
I shimmy back until my head is on the pillows. They smell like him.
I stare in wonder as he grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing defined muscles and a trail of dark hair that leads down into his pants. He smirks as he undoes his belt and pushes his pants and boxers down in one movement, and as he does, I understand the reason for his expression.
He’s big. Really big.
I can’t do anything but stare at his cock. Thick, long, heavy between his legs.
“Like what you see?” His teasing tone pulls my attention to his face.
My mouth is so dry that I just nod as he climbs onto the bed, one knee on either side of my legs, leaning over me.
“You want that inside you? You want me to fuck you hard, Kat?”
I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Ask nicely, babe. Maybe you’ll get what you want.”
“Please,” I beg.
My clit is throbbing, needing to be touched.
“Please what?” He reaches over, opening the drawer of the nightstand and pulling out a condom .
“Please fuck me.” My voice is hoarse as he sheaths himself and leans over me again.
“Good girl.” He notches himself at my entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, pushes in.
I gasp at the stretch, just enough to add a twinge of pain in addition to the fullness.
“You okay?” Blake studies my face, holding perfectly still.
I nod, needing more. “I’m good.”
He advances an inch, then another, watching me closely as I adjust to his size.
When he bottoms out, I groan, spasming around him. God, he feels so fucking good. I’m so full.
And then he starts moving.
Blake withdraws almost all the way, then slams forward, pressing my hips into the mattress as he fills me up again and again. Stars infuse my vision.
“God, you feel good,” he says, pistoning his hips faster, harder. “So fucking good, Kat. You’re so tight.”
“Blake.” I gasp. “Oh God, I’m—”
“You want to come, babe?”
“Yes. Please, yes.” I’ve never begged for anything in my life, but this man has reduced me to a quivering mess.
“Come for me.” He thrusts hard, and I topple over the cliff, my entire body tightening as pleasure rolls through me.
He fucks me through my orgasm, slowing as I recover. When my breathing evens out, he moves faster, bringing me to the peak of another climax.
“I’m right there, Kat. You there with me?”
I nod, my heart pounding as I start to tighten around his girth.
“Come for me again, Kat. Hard.”
My body responds to his command, another climax creeping up and over me, pulling me into its spiral.
This time when I come, he does too, both of us gasping in pleasure.
Blake lowers his forehead to mine, both of us breathing hard. “That was fucking amazing, Kat.”
I’m still trying to catch my breath, so all I can do is nod.
Blake slips out of bed, taking care of the condom, and comes back with a damp washcloth. He cleans me up so gently I almost forget that he’s the same man who completely dominated my body just minutes ago.
“Do you want to stay?” he asks, climbing back into bed and pulling me close.
Every fiber of my being is yelling at me to stay, to cuddle, to spend every second I can with this man. To let him own my body again, over and over.
But despite the fact that my brain is still clouded from the mind-blowing orgasms, I know I can’t.
No strings.
And this isn’t the type of guy that Kat Fucking Milas gets involved with. I’m an independent woman, damn it. I don’t need to be bossed around.
Even if it was really fucking hot.
I shake my head. “I have to be up early. I need to go.”
He’s a gentleman about it, picking up my clothes and helping me find my shoe that skittered off beneath his bed in the heat of the moment, and he waits with me for my Uber.
“Kat,” he says, as the Uber pulls up. “You were fucking amazing.”
“You, too.”
He pulls me into a hug and kisses me, sweet and soft, so different from how he was in the bedroom. “No strings, right?”
I take a step toward the waiting car, an unfamiliar pang in my chest. “No strings.”