I squirm as he drags his lips up my thigh. My legs fight his hands.
He pins me harder. Digs his nails into my skin. It hurts, but in a way that feels good.
He moves closer.
Closer.
There.
He runs his tongue over my folds. His mouth closes on my left side. He sucks hard.
Pleasure overwhelms me. It's intense and it's unlike anything I've ever felt before.
He's warm. Wet. Soft. But hard too.
I…
Uh…
Fuck.
My legs go slack.
I try to reach for something but my hands are bound. There's no way for me to contain the sensation. All I can do is feel it.
He draws shapes with his tongue. A circle, a triangle, a star, a heart. Romantic. The thought dissolves into the air.
Everything else fades away.
Everything fades into pleasure.
I'm at his mercy.
And he's taking me so fucking high.
He flicks his tongue against me. Soft. Then hard. Fast. Slow.
Pleasure jolts through me. It's intense. It's almost too much to take.
He licks me again. Again.
My legs fight his hand. But he's got me pinned. His nails sink into my skin. Harder. That hint of pain pushes me higher. It makes everything more intense.
An orgasm builds up inside of me.
With the next flick of his tongue, I come.
I shake. I shudder. I groan.
He pulls back for a moment, then his mouth is on me again. He licks me with long, fast strokes.
It's a lot.
It hurts.
But in a good way.
"Blake." I groan his name again and again. It's the only word in my universe. He's the only thing in my universe. His lips. His groans. Those strong hands.
He winds me up. He pushes me all the way to the edge. I'm so close I'm going to snap. It's too much. It's more than I can take.
Then I'm there. The pressure inside me releases. Pleasure spills through my body. It knocks me over like a wave.
My muscles relax.
I sink into the bed, shaking as I come down.
Blake pushes himself onto his knees. He looks down at me the way a lion looks at its prey.
Like he's going to devour me.
Fuck, he really is a sight to behold. He's tall and broad, with chiseled muscles. And his, he's…
I've seen plenty of naked guys in figure drawing classes. But never hard.
He unwraps the condom and rolls it over his cock. I force my eyes to meet his. But it's too intense. It's too intimate.
No. It's just intimate enough.
I understand this Blake.
I understand exactly what he wants from me.
And I trust him to give me what I need.
He arranges my legs flat against the bed again. Then he brings the weight of his body against mine.
I soak up the feel of him as I sink into the foam mattress.
He spreads my legs wider. The tip of his cock strains against me. The rubber tugs for a moment. Then that fades and all I feel is his warmth.
He slides inside me.
Fuck.
It's intense.
Not painful, not really. Just intense. Like I'm so full I'm going to burst.
But that feels good in its own way.
Blake plants his hands outside my shoulders. He pushes into me. He goes deeper.
The discomfort fades.
I'm just full.
Whole.
Instinct takes over.
I arch my hips to push him deeper.
I go to bring my arms around him, and my wrists catch on the restraints. I'm not in control. Blake is.
It makes my sex clench.
Which makes him growl.
His lips press against my neck. Then his teeth. A soft scrape. Then a harder one.
It hurts, but in a good way. Like he's claiming me. Like I'm his.
His hips shift against me.
He moves faster. Harder. It hurts for a minute, then it feels so damn good.
I arch my back, meeting his movements, pushing him deeper.
It feels so good.
So right.
This is why people write pop songs. This is why people go to war. This is why people hand over their body to a near stranger.
This is everything.
His nails scrape against my thighs.
It hurts, but that's not what grabs my attention. No, it's this animal version of Blake.
I let my eyelids press together.
I surrender to sensation.
Everything mixes together—pain, pressure, pleasure, need.
His breath speeds. His thighs shake.
His lips part with a sigh.
He's almost there.
I don't know how I know, but I do.
He's about to come and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
It spurs me on.
The tension in my sex winds tighter.
He moves harder.
Faster.
There.
The pressure inside me unwinds as I come. It spills through my pelvis, my thighs, my stomach. I feel it everywhere.
Then he's there, moving faster and harder, groaning against my neck.
Groaning my name.
He tears at the sheets as he comes. His cock pulses inside me. His muscles stiffen then relax.
He's mine. It's only for a brief moment, but I feel it as clearly as I've ever felt anything.
When he's done, he collapses next to me. His expression is calm. Relaxed. Spent. I've never seen him like that. I like it. A lot.
He slides off the bed, discards of the condom, and returns.
His gaze hardens as he gives me a long once-over. "Are you okay?"
I nod.
He unties me. He's careful about checking my wrists, stretching them, pressing his lips against them.
Then he pulls me into his arms and plants a kiss on my lips.
It's soft. Sweet, even.
Then he pulls away. Climbs off the bed. "You can stay as long as you want."
"Thanks." He takes a step towards the door. "Make yourself comfortable. Jordan will take you home whenever you're ready. If there's an emergency, I'll be in my office."
I nod like it's normal he's fleeing the scene. "Sure."
"Goodnight." He steps into the hallway and pulls the door closed.
Okay…
I've never had sex until now, but I'm pretty sure that's abnormal behavior.
His terms are clear. The affection is fake. The carnal desire is real. I don't get soft kisses and sweet whispers when we're alone. And I don't want them.
It's better keeping things separate.
I climb off the bed and examine the room. There isn't much besides the bed. The bookshelf in the corner is packed with never-before-read classics. Books for show.
The attached bathroom is gorgeous, all stainless steel, Italian marble, and an enormous tub with jets and imported bubble bath.
I run the water until it's just right then climb in. This thing is practically a pool. It's the tub of my dreams. But I can't relax.
Something feels off.
Once I'm clean, I climb out, wrap myself in a towel, and return to the main room.
My clothes are folded on the couch. Not the pink chiffon dress but the jeans and t-shirt I wore this morning.
The apartment is quiet. Moonlight flows in through the big windows. A sliver of yellow light flows out from under the door in the corner. Blake's office.
I guess I inspire him. Something like that.
I plant on the couch and try to get comfortable. This is a beautiful apartment, but I can't see any of that.
I can't see anything but that closed door.
It's locked and I'm not welcome there.
I'm not welcome anywhere but his bed.
Chapter 8
Lizzy stares into the vanity mirror as she brings the penc
il to her waterline. She draws a perfect line of espresso. "See? Easy."
Uh…
The makeup artist doing our lesson looks to me. "What do you think, Kat? Are you ready to try it again?"
How can drawing on your face be this hard? I'm not exactly Picasso, but I'm well above average when it comes to pen to paper.
Lizzy hands over the pencil.
I cross and uncross my legs. I stare at my reflection in the vanity mirror as I bring the pencil to my eye.
I trace the line along my lashes. The top. Then the bottom. It's not too bad. A little messy. But close.
"All we need to do is clean it up a little." The makeup artist picks up a brush with an angled tip. "Close your eyes."
I do.
She runs the brush along the line I drew. "Okay. Open."
I stare back at my reflection. That looks better. A lot better. More smudged and sexy than smudged and amateur. "Can I try?"
"Of course." She smiles.
I line my other eye then I pick up the brush and trace my work. My blending isn't quite as expert as hers, but it looks alright.
"I like it," Lizzy says. "It's sexy."
"Yeah?" I ask.
"Like you're walking home from your one-night stand." Lizzy picks up a tube of red lipstick. "Try it with this. Screams sex appeal."
"It's too red," I say.
"Guys like red." Lizzy looks to the makeup artist. "Right?"
"Yes, but honestly, guys don't know anything about makeup. My boyfriend is always telling me how pretty I look without makeup when I have a natural look going. It doesn't matter how many times I tell him I'm caked in product. He keeps insisting." The makeup artist scans the rows and rows of lipstick. She grabs something in a deep berry. "Let's try this. It's a little cooler. Not quite as bright. I think it will suit you."
I take the lipstick, pout, apply two coats. It's dark and rich, like a glass of red wine. Or a raspberry. Between the lipstick and the smoky eye, I look like an adult. Like a sexpot, actually. Like I'll be the one driving Blake out of his mind.
"Oh. I'm going to find one." Lizzy smiles at the makeup artist. "Do you think you have any palettes in purple? Shimmery or matte."
"I'll check." She moves to another row.
Lizzy turns to me. "Are you going to fess up?"
"To?" I play dumb. The berry lipstick really is working for me. I can see it smudged on Blake's lips. Or his neck. Or his collar. Or just below his belly button.
"Since when do you care about makeup?"
"This is fun, isn't it? The lesson."
"Yeah." Lizzy looks back at her reflection, checking her shimmery purple eyeshadow. "It's awesome. For me. But you… no offense, Kat, but you look sorta confused and frustrated."
"It's not my skillset."
"Don't you work on Tuesday nights?"
"I quit."
"What?" She stares back at me. "Can we—"
"Yeah. I arranged something. I can't explain. But trust me, it's good."
"And it has something to do with your sudden interest in makeup? And the limo that was waiting the other day? Why was there a limo?"
"I'm dating someone with money."
"Oh."
"What do you mean 'oh'?"
My sister stares back at me with a knowing expression. "You have a sugar daddy. Right on. It's about time, Kat. You deserve a break."
"No. It's not like that." Okay, it's not unlike that. "We're serious." About getting married. Not about loving each other.
"Okay, sure. That's why you didn't come home the other night. And why you had that satisfied, just fucked expression when I got home from school the next day."
"I plead the fifth."
"Who's Mr. Rich Guy?"
"A guy I met at work."
"Oh my God, that's so Pretty Woman."
"She's a prostitute!"
"Whatever. It's still romantic. You have a picture?"
No. We should have pictures. Everyone takes selfies nowadays. Or at least vacation photos. "You know what he looks like."
"He's famous?"
"Sort of. He's…" I fold my arms. "Don't freak out, okay?"
"I never freak out."
That's true. But still… this news is weird. Ridiculous. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "He's Blake Sterling."
Lizzy's eyes go wide. "Sterling Tech Blake Sterling?"
"Yeah."
"Oh my God. He's a legend. He's amazing. Have you seen any of his code? Have you been to the office? Tell me you'll take me to the office!!!"
"I can probably arrange that."
Lizzy grabs my wrists. She squeals. "You're amazing. Oh my God." Her eyes go to my neck. "That hickey. That's from Blake Sterling."
"It's…" I adjust my hair so it's covering said hickey. "It's nothing."
Lizzy laughs. "I'm glad you're finally dating. You've been different the last week. Happier."
"Yeah?"
"Satisfied." She laughs. "Is there some reason why he bought you all those new clothes?"
"Sorta."
"You know I could have helped pick stuff out."
"We went during the day. You have school."
"I have a life too. And I'm a senior. This semester doesn't even count."
"Still. You should be learning."
"I learn all the time."
"I have to say this. I'm your legal guardian."
She nods fair enough.
"You can help today."
"Yeah?" Her eyes light up.
"I have an appointment booked at a salon. For my hair. But I don't really know what I want to do."
"What are you trying to do?"
"Look like I belong with Blake Sterling, I guess."
"Like a fancy, rich slut?"
"Not exactly."
"More classy?" She laughs.
It makes me warm all over. Lizzy is always bright. She's the sun in my sky. She's been through so much, but she's still hopeful.
Don't get me wrong. My little sister is cynical as all hell. She can be grumpy or prickly or flat-out anti-social. But she always makes me laugh. She's just… fun.
And she's doing well. With that scholarship, she'll be able to go to any college she wants. She'll have the kind of bright future she deserves.
"I have an idea," Lizzy says. "It's very rich, classy, artsy broad. Perfect for you."
"I trust you."
Two hours later, I'm staring back at a new me. It's not a radical change. Lowlights. Layers with a soft wave.
With my hair done and my makeup perfect, I actually look the part of the rich guy's girlfriend.
Lizzy squees as she takes in my new do. "It's perfect. And it's so you. Classy and pretty."
"I'm bright?"
"Yeah. You're really positive. Like compulsively."
Maybe. I'm glad I convince her of that. "You don't think it's too dark?"
"No. It's good."
The buzz of my purse makes me jump.
"Oooh. Is that loverboy?"
Probably. I don't text with anyone besides Lizzy and Blake. I used to have a handful of friends, but I haven't had the time or energy to stay in touch. For the last three years, I've been hanging out with Lizzy. Just Lizzy.
I pull my cell from my purse.
Sure enough, it's a text from Blake.
Blake: I need to talk to you. Come by my office tonight. I'll be here until midnight.
"Booty call?" Lizzy waggles her brows.
I play-swat her. "No. Just a regular call."
"Let me see then."
I do.
She smiles as she reads the text. "That's absolutely a booty call."
I don't think so. Even if it is— "So what?"
"So nothing. I'm glad you're finally getting some."
"Where did you learn to talk like that?"
"Books."
"No offense, but you don't read."
She laughs. "Okay. TV." She takes a step backwards. "You need to go now?"
"No. After dinner. My treat. Wha
tever you want."
"Greasy noodles?"
"Sure."
"But not here. We need to go to Chinatown and get the good stuff."
I nod. "Wherever you want."
After a long, greasy, MSG-filled dinner, Lizzy and I part ways. I take the subway downtown.
It's empty. Again. I guess it's always empty this time of night.
I take a minute to admire the beauty of the city, then I go straight to Blake's office.
Once again, it's empty except for him. I go straight to his open door and knock.
"Kat. Come in."
"How did you know it was me?"
"Who else would it be?"
"The janitor."
"His shoes don't squeak."
My cheeks flush. "I guess I should get new shoes. Better ones."
"If you'd like." He steps out from behind his desk. His eyes pass over me. They start at my hair, linger over my chest, stop at my cheap boots. "Those suit you."
"Cheap and not as waterproof as advertised?"
"Artsy."
"How do you know I'm artsy?"
"You stop and stare at beautiful things every few minutes."
"Oh." I guess I do.
"I can arrange lessons if you'd like."
That would be awesome. But— "I can handle it."
He motions to the couch. "Would you like a drink?"
"Sure." I drop my bags—my purse and the department store bag packed with four hundred dollars of makeup—in the corner and take a seat on the couch. It's strange, the way Blake offers to take care of everything. I'm tempted to take him up on all his offers.
But then where will I be when this is over?
Will I even exist or will I be some amalgamation of Blake's desires?
He fixes our drinks and brings them to the couch.
The brush of his hands still lights up my body. It's funny. We had crazy, rough, animalistic sex a few nights ago, but I still feel like we're strangers.
He's still treating me like a colleague.
"Thank you." I take a long sip of my gin and tonic. It's just as crisp and clear as last time. "Is everything alright?"
"Not exactly." He takes a long sip of his whiskey. His gaze moves to the window that looks out on the city. The silver moon peeks out from behind a skyscraper. "There's a party on Friday."
"One we're attending together?"
"Yes. A company event. But my family will be there as well."
"You have a family?"
He looks at me like he's not sure if I'm joking. "Of course."
"No, I only meant… you haven't really mentioned them."
Dirty Deal Page 6
