I’d woken in the middle of the night with ideas for another book swirling around my head, leaving me mentally restless. Not wanting to wake him, I’d quietly slipped on his shirt and padded downstairs. Settling in front of the large windows, I’d began jotting down each of the ideas in my notebook.
No more than half an hour later, Blake had come downstairs, naked as the day he was born. His cock was rock hard and, well, it had seemed a shame to waste it.
One hand palming the back of my head, he watched through hooded eyes as I sucked him while fisting the base of his cock with one hand and teasing my clit with the other. He’d told me that if I wanted his dick in my pussy, I’d have to work for it—which should have pissed me off but I liked the challenge.
I’d tormented him for at least ten minutes straight before taking him in my mouth—I’d licked, nibbled, stroked, scratched, and kissed his balls, inner thighs, and cock. Eventually, he’d snapped at me to “quit fucking around and suck my cock.”
Even as I sucked him, I used my tongue to drive him crazy— flicking his frenulum, rubbing it along the underside of his cock, and dancing it around his length. Each time I hummed or swallowed around him, he cursed between gritted teeth.
Lubing my clit with yet more of my cream, I rubbed it harder. My own orgasm wasn’t far away. I could feel it creeping closer, winding me tighter and tighter, making my pussy wetter and hotter. The closer it came, the more frantically I sucked him.
A flush swept up my neck and face as the friction just kept on building. A fine tremor shook me, and I moaned loud around his—
“Don’t come.”
My eyes slammed on him, no doubt shooting fire.
“You don’t get to do that until I’m in you. Fuck, baby, you should see how hot you look right now … eyes sex-drunk, face flushed, nipples hard, finger working your clit, lips wrapped around my dick … Fucking perfect.”
I flicked his frenulum again, and he hissed through his teeth. “Lie on your back, Kensey, and spread your legs. I’m going to fuck you right here, while you’re wearing my shirt.”
Releasing his cock with one last lick to the head, I did as he asked.
Kneeling between my spread thighs, he splayed his hand on my throat and then dragged it down my neck, between my breasts, along my stomach, and down to my pussy. He slipped a finger inside me and groaned. “Nice and slick. I want some of that in my mouth.” He lifted my hips and pushed his face into my pussy.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I grabbed tufts of his hair and held on as he ravenously ate at me. His skilled tongue licked, lashed, flicked, and sank inside me. And when he latched onto my clit and suckled gently, I almost tugged a chunk of hair out of his scalp.
Lifting his head, Blake licked his glistening lower lip as he gazed down at me, eyes dark with heat. “Now I’m ready to fuck you.” He didn’t lower my hips to the floor. No, he spread my thighs wide in the air as he lodged the head of his cock in my pussy. Thick and hard, he stretched me until it stung, but I absolutely loved it. Loved feeling every inch of him slowly slide into me, stretching me more and more—
He slammed home. Jesus Christ. My pussy clamped down on him like a fist, rippling and quaking. I slapped my palms on the floor as if it could anchor me somehow. I was hovering on the edge of what I sensed would be a phenomenal orgasm, and all I wanted was to feel him roughly pounding into me like he’d never get enough. He didn’t give that to me, though. He stayed very still, as if waiting for my approaching orgasm to recede.
I’d have begged him to let me come if I thought it would work. I wasn’t too proud for that, and I’d tried it once before. It hadn’t moved him at all. He’d simply said: “You don’t ever need to beg me for anything. I’ll always give you what you want … just not exactly when you want it.”
He swiveled his hips. “You know something, Kensey?”
“W-what?”
He curled over me and closed his warm mouth around my nipple. Each strong wet tug on the taut bud made my pussy spasm. “One day …” He paused to blow on my nipple, making it tighten painfully. “I’m going to put a baby in you.”
“What?”
Mouth curving, he straightened. “Not yet.” In an agonizingly slow movement, he smoothly pulled back until only the head was inside me. “Not anytime soon. But one day, yeah, I’ll do it one day.” He drove deep and then swiveled his hips again. “Won’t I?”
I spluttered. “We can’t have this kind of discussion while we’re fucking.” I gasped as he ever-so-slowly pulled back again.
“Won’t I?” he repeated.
“I refuse to talk about this now.”
Again, he drove deep. “I’ll do it, Kensey. You know I will.”
“Not talking about this now.”
“And I’ll put a ring on your finger. That I will do soon.” He began mercilessly pumping his hips, driving balls-deep and filling me so perfectly I could cry. Possessiveness was carved into every line of his face. I felt that possessiveness in every thrust, in his furious pace, and in the dig of his fingertips in my thighs. “If you could feel how hot your pussy is right now … It’s getting tighter and tighter by the second. So close to coming, aren’t you?”
I nodded, moaning. The right touch to my clit would set me off.
“But you’ll fight it, because I’m not done with you yet. Hook your hands under your knees, Kensey. Pull your legs up and keep them spread wide for me.” He didn’t pause while I did as he asked. He kept on plunging hard and fast, squeezing my breasts just right.
I wanted his mouth. Wanted one of those searing, addictive, hungry kisses that could leave me completely boneless. I was—
A sharp stinging slap to my inner thigh jerked a gasp out of me. The light pain surged to my pussy, making it blaze and spasm. “Oh God, don’t. Not if you want me to hang on.” But he landed a slap on my other thigh, and the burn rushed to my pussy yet again. He didn’t stop there. He kept going. The air cracked with each stinging slap to my inner thighs. My flesh smarted and tingled, but it only made me hotter.
Finally, he stopped and soothingly rubbed my thighs. “That’s my baby. So fucking perfect.” Still thrusting hard, he curled over me again. One hand gripped me by the throat while the other knotted in my hair. “Where’s my cock, Kensey?”
I licked my lips. “In me.”
“Where in you?”
“My pussy.”
“And what’s it doing?”
“Fucking me.” He slowed, and I realized it was the wrong answer. I scrabbled to think. “Owning me.”
“Owning you, yes.” He upped his pace again, driving deep. “My good girl knows who she belongs to. And that’s why when I give her a ring, she’ll fucking wear it.” He wildly rammed in and out of me, shifting his angle so that each perfect slam of his cock hit some magical spot inside me that made my back bow.
“Fuck, Blake, I’m going to come.” And then I did. There was no stopping it. No fighting the rush of white-hot pleasure that ripped me apart and wrenched a scream from my throat. Blake was right behind me. I felt my pussy squeeze and contract around him, greedily milking every drop of come from his cock. And then we both sagged.
Shaking with little aftershocks, he rolled onto his back, taking me with him. As I lazed over him, he slid his hand under the shirt I was wearing and trailed his fingers up and down my spine. “So, marriage freaks my baby out.” He sounded far too amused for my liking.
I dug my nails into his chest in punishment, but he only chuckled. “It doesn’t freak me out.” I shrugged, adding, “I guess I just never envisioned myself getting married.”
“Why?”
“Because I come with a lot of baggage. Who in their right mind would want to marry the stepdaughter of a serial killer?”
Fisting my hair, he tugged so that I’d look up and meet his eyes. “Being the stepdaughter of Michael Bale isn’t who you are. You’re Kensey. Kensey Lyons.”
“But people often don’t see me. They don’t see past my connection to him
.”
“I do. I see all of you.” He smoothed his hand down my back. “And you see all of me.”
“I’d be a cruel bitch to have a kid, Blake.”
His brow pinched. “Why?”
“Because the poor kid would go through exactly what I went through. They’d be bullied, scorned, isolated, taunted, and have people tell lies about them. My mother knew I’d have to deal with all that, but she married Michael anyway. I wouldn’t be much different from her if I had a baby, knowing they’d have to deal with the same shit I did.”
He curved his hand around my chin. “Are you happy?”
“What?”
“Are you happy, here and now?”
“Yes.”
“You went through all that and more, but you’re still happy. Why can’t any baby of yours be happy just the same?” When I didn’t answer, he kissed me softly. “One day, Kensey.”
I sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s any sense in pointing out that it’s a little soon to be talking about babies and marriage, is there?”
“I don’t move at society’s pace. I move at mine.”
“And what about my pace?”
“You move too slow. Mostly because you spend too much time overthinking stuff.”
Damn if I could argue with that. Huffing to myself, I rested my head on his chest. “Just go asleep.”
“Not here.” Keeping a tight grip on my head and ass, he stood upright. I curled my limbs around him and held on as he carried me up the stairs. I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
If the woman hadn’t been so damn rude as to park between pumps, I might not have laughed when she absentmindedly began driving away while the nozzle was still attached to her car.
I pulled up to one of the grimy pumps, turned off the ignition, and climbed out of the car … right into the scents of gas, motor oil, and exhaust fumes. Call me weird, but I’d always liked the smell of gas. Yeah, that was weird.
A teenager whistled at me out of the window of an idling car, but it was a wonder I heard him over the music filtering out of the RV in front of me. My mouth thinned at the receipts, paper towels, and cigarette butts littering the cracked pavement near the pump. Did people not realize that gas + cigarettes = a major fucking no-no?
The machine beeped with each press of the buttons as I slid in my card and paid for the gas. Grabbing the rubbery nozzle handle, I inserted it snuggly into the gas port, selected what grade of gas I wanted, and then pressed start. As I watched the numbers on the dial spin and listened to the gas gurgling through the hose, I found myself yawning.
Damn, I was freaking tired. I’d gone on yet another trip to the mall with Sarah, and I was sorely regretting it. I preferred to shop online, which she failed to see the beauty of, since crowds didn’t bother her one little bit. But lies? They bothered her, which was why she was once again not speaking to Bastien.
See, that was another reason why I was regretting that we went to the mall—we happened to catch sight of him at a nearby coffeehouse with Tara. As he’d told Sarah he was going to see his mother, she was pretty pissed off. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Sarah had stayed out of sight and called him to casually ask where he was. After all, it was possible that he’d just bumped into Tara while out and about, right?
He’d lied again, telling her he was having coffee with his mother. Would he never learn?
Sarah had predictably lost her shit and was now hiding in her old bedroom at her parents’ house, refusing to take his calls. I’d offered to stay with her, but she’d wanted to be alone for a while. Respecting that, I’d eventually left—but not before asking Dodger not to do as he’d threatened, which was to “fuck up Bastien’s pretty face with a crowbar.”
There was a ‘click’ as the pump cut off, snapping me out of my thoughts. Once I’d removed and replaced the nozzle, careful to avoid any drips of gas getting on my shoes, I recapped the gas tank and gripped my receipt.
Sparing Rossi—who, after buying some munchies from the station, had returned to where he’d parked across the road as he waited for me to finish—a quick wave, I then slid into my car. It was entirely possible that he hadn’t seen my wave, though, due to the drizzle of rain dripping down his windows. Thankfully, it wasn’t a heavy downfall, but the shit weather made the air feel thick and heavy.
As I drove out from under the roof of the gas station, fine rain steadily pinged on the glass windows. I switched on the windshield wipers just as I pulled onto the main road.
No more than a minute later, my phone rang. On the car’s navigation screen, I saw ‘Blake Calling.’ As he’d paired my cell phone to the car via Bluetooth, I was able to take the call using the hands-free phone system.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey baby, you still with Sarah?”
“No, I’m on my way home.”
“Good. If Bastien calls you, don’t even answer the phone. He might think you’ll tell him where she is. I don’t want you getting dragged into their shit. It’s his mess, he can fix it on his own or not at all.”
I’d already planned not to answer any calls from Bastien. I liked the guy, but I wouldn’t be able to resist giving him grief for being a lying bastard. Then it would just be awkward when he and Sarah finally made up—which they eventually would do. I was starting to think they both got off a little on the angst. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in getting involved.”
“I warned him in the past not to draw you into their drama. But if he can’t find her and gets desperate, he may just be dumb enough to risk his front teeth. I know I’d do what it took to find you if the situation was reversed.”
I smiled. “You know better than to lie to me again. I could so easily make your life hell.”
He chuckled. “The only way you’d make my life hell is if you left it.”
Aw, that was sweet.
“There was another reason I called you. It turns out you were right.”
“About what?” Because he didn’t sound happy about it.
“Linton is, in fact, Laurel’s Ben.”
I cursed. That meant bad things. For one, it showed that Linton hadn’t given up. Two, Laurel would pitch a fit. Three, Blake might just lose his mind, and I didn’t want to visit him in prison.
“He’s at Emma’s house right now, oblivious to the fact that she recognizes him,” Blake continued. “I’m on my way over there now.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you there.”
“No.”
“No?” I echoed, my tone clipped.
“I don’t want you near anyone who is potentially Ricky’s ‘Friend.’ In any case, Linton wants access to you. I have no plans to give him that. Go straight home. I’ll be there soon.”
“But Blake—”
“Straight home,” he reiterated. Then the line went dead.
“Fucking asshole.” Okay, yeah, he made sense. It wasn’t smart for me to be near Linton. Even if his only objective was to ask me questions for his book, it would be bad for me to go see him—it would be essentially rewarding his shitty behavior. Still, I didn’t have to like that Blake made sense.
Sighing, I continued en route to the apartment. The rain had started to pick up now, which didn’t improve my mood at all. And as some of the windows were distorted by the drizzle, I couldn’t even properly enjoy the scenery along the quiet road. Most people would have called it bland with all the grassy land and stunted trees, but I liked it. The lighthouse was a very pretty sight.
When my eye caught headlights flashing in the rear-view mirror, I noticed that Rossi had stopped at the side of the road. Frowning, I reversed the G80 and poked my head out of the window, letting in the scents of rain, grass, and wet earth. “What’s wrong?” I asked, grimacing as drops of rain hit my hair and slid down my collar.
Standing near his car with his phone in hand, he shrugged. “Don’t know. Engine just stuttered to a stop, if you can believe that. I’ll have to call road assistan
ce and wait for someone to come tow it. You go on home.”
“I’m not leaving you out here on your own.” And I wasn’t stupid. Someone could have tampered with his car to separate us. It wasn’t likely, but I wasn’t taking any chances. “You might as well come sit in here with me while we wait.”
He waved a hand. “I’ll be fine, Kensey. You go on home.”
“Just get in the damn car.” Shivering as the cool wind feathered through my hair, I ducked back into the G80 and called Blake. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. He didn’t answer. It went straight to voicemail. I tried again, but the same thing happened. He probably thought I was calling to complain that he’d insisted I go straight home.
Rossi slid into the passenger seat and said, “Road assistance might not arrive any time soon. You sure you want to wait with me?”
“Positive. I don’t want you sitting out here alone.”
With a sigh, he clicked on his seat belt. “Drive us to your apartment. I’ll have Greg meet us there. He can bring me back here. I’ll likely make it back before road assistance shows up.”
Figuring he was right, I nodded. “Okay. Let me just try calling your asshole of a boss one last time.”
Rossi’s lips twitched. “Why is he an asshole?”
“He’s ignoring me.” I explained that Linton had been posing as Laurel’s boyfriend and that he was currently at Emma’s house, where Blake intended to confront him. “He doesn’t want me there, so he’s being an asshole.”
Rossi’s chuckle only annoyed me more. Beneath the sound of rain pattering on the pavement, I heard the faint rumble of a vehicle as I once again tried calling Blake. The phone rang and rang yet went unanswered, so I bit out a stream of loud inventive curses that made Rossi laugh like a loon and—
Tires screeched, I saw the impression of a red blur in my rear-view mirror, and then it sounded like the world exploded just as something slammed into the car. The seat belt snapped taut, jerking me back with a painfully sharp yank. And then we were launched into the air and everything went sideways.
Shiver Page 40
