Passionate Addiction

by Eden Summers

  He squeezed her tight and spun her around in the snug space. She squealed and gripped him as he reached around her waist to open the shower door. Dripping and naked, he walked them from the bathroom, into the adjoining bedroom. They kissed with each step. The soft pecks curled her toes. The deep thrusts of tongue clenched her womb. Their hands ran over each other in a voracious need, brushing and gliding, skin against skin.

  Her calves hit the mattress and Blake spun them again. He lowered to the bed and sat, pulling her with him so she straddled his lap. The hardness of his erection ran along her entrance, teasing her with the implication.

  He gazed into her eyes, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I’ve died and gone to heaven, haven’t I? Or Mitch drugged me and I’m dreaming.” He nuzzled her cheek and placed kisses along her jaw. “I’ve never done anything to deserve this… You.”

  The warmth of his breath swept over her wet skin, giving her tingles, driving her to madness. Her fingers ran into his hair, scratching, tugging, allowing her something to cling to as his tongue found the sensitive spot below her ear. Her hardened nipples ached for the tenderness of his mouth and she arched into him, giving the tightened buds the friction they craved against the light dusting of hair covering his torso.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured into her neck. One arm held her around the waist, while his other moved to her breast. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, Gabi. You’ll never regret what we share tonight.”

  She leaned back to make eye contact. They were bathed in shadow, only the soft glow from the living room lamp giving them light. It turned his irises an intense black, darker and deeper than the ink running down both arms and over his left pec. “I’ll never regret you, Blake. Ever.”

  For long moments they stared, loving each other with teasing strokes of fingers and slight gyrations of their hips, never breaking eye contact. The moment was surreal. Him being here was surreal. She couldn’t get over it, couldn’t understand it, but she’d be damned if she would question what was happening between them. This was what she’d always wanted.

  As she loved him with her gaze, her skin began to cool from the water dripping from her hair and she shivered.

  “Cold, angel?” he murmured low.

  She smiled, loving the nickname more than words could express. “A little. Maybe you could warm me up.” She pushed her knees against the mattress, moving herself higher, hovering the heat of her sex above his cock. “Do you think you can do that?”

  He chuckled and grabbed her forearms, yanking her body around so she lay on the bed and at his mercy. The lower part of her legs hung over the mattress and he towered over her, piercing her in place with his self-assured smile. “I can sure try.”

  His left palm trailed over her skin, from her shoulder, around the curve of her breast, along her stomach. She held her breath, luxuriating in the way he worshipped her body. Every nerve ending was raw, every heart beat stuttered, anticipating his next move.

  He slid over her, bringing his head down to her chest. She gripped the quilt and drifted in bliss as he licked away stray droplets of water from her sternum, her ribs, and finally her tight breasts. His mouth hovered over her nipple, and he peered up at her under thick, black lashes. “Still cold?”

  She swallowed, on the verge of begging him to continue. “Mmm-hmm.” She nodded and bit her lip, fighting back a smile when he grinned.

  “Now’s not the time to point out that it’s probably your cold heart causing the probl—”

  She gripped the short strands of his hair and lightly pulled until his face came up to hers. He chuckled and settled between her thighs, his erection poking her entrance. “I have a cold heart, do I?”

  He shrugged, his grin unwavering. “Just my medical diagnosis.”

  The comfortable familiarity between them was unnerving, and entirely exhilarating at the same time. She’d had boyfriends before, some lasting longer than others, however, it took weeks, sometimes months to lose the awkwardness of insecurities between the sheets.

  Not with Blake. His gaze alone empowered her, made her feel special. Adored.

  He backed away, reaching for his wallet on the bedside table and retrieved a condom. With efficient strokes he placed the protection over his length, and moved back over her.

  Staring into her eyes, he ground into her sex, the head of his cock prodding her entrance. “Are you sure about this, angel?” The playfulness left his eyes, replaced with concern. “I want you so bad, Gabi, but if I lost you…” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  She cupped his face with her palms and pulled him closer. “You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

  He leaned in, dancing his lips against hers in delicate strokes, coaxing every piece of her heart and soul into his hands. She could feel her love for him overtaking her, changing from something she could control and ignore, to something much more potent and demanding.

  Inch by slow inch he thrust into her, causing her core to clamp down and convulse with tiny bursts of pleasure.

  “God, Gabi, I never expected this.”

  He thrust again, this time harder, deeper. His lips found her neck while he leaned on one forearm and stroked the side of her breast with his free hand. “You feel perfect,” he murmured in her ear. “So hot and tight. Christ, you’re heaven.”

  She moaned and released the covers, placing a hand on the small of his back. His muscles were taut beneath her fingers, flexing with every pulse of his hips. Her other hand gripped his ass, digging her nails in, demanding more. “Make love to me, Blake.”

  He growled in her ear, the vibration of his chest echoing through her own. She met each tender thrust of his hips and raised her legs to wrap around his thighs, deepening the penetration. They fit together perfectly—physically and spiritually.

  Whimpers escaped her parched lips as he trailed kisses, licks, and bites from her neck to her chest, then sucked her nipple into his mouth. She arched, the spike of pleasure shooting from her breasts, straight between her thighs. His rhythm increased, his thrusts still an intimate slide and retreat, now with more potency.

  Gabi gripped his hair, held him to her breast and ground harder into him, squeezing him tighter with her thighs.

  “Damn it, Gab. I’m so close.”

  The friction of his skin rubbed against her clit every time their bodies joined. She whimpered, on the precipice. His mouth trailed up her chest, leaving a burning kiss each time he moved deep inside her. When his stubbled chin brushed against the sensitive spot at the base of her neck, she shuddered, her walls clamping down on his cock.

  “I love you, Gabi,” he whispered.

  His declaration was her undoing. She cried out her climax, tightening her thighs around his sinful body. Her core pulsed, her back arched. The pleasure he bathed her in overtook her entirely. His mouth sucked tight on her neck and his pace increased, matching her eagerness, mimicking her need. Then with a final heart shattering plunge, Blake let out a guttural cry and came inside her.

  His movements slowed, as she descended from her climax, sated and dazed. He rolled to the side, taking her with him, their legs tangled, his softening cock still inside her body. They panted into the silence, and Gabi couldn’t tear her gaze from him, in disbelief that he was actually here.

  “You know it doesn’t count, right?” She laid her head on the mattress and traced the lines of his angel tattoo with her finger.

  His arm came around her waist, pulling her closer. “What doesn’t count?”

  “Telling me you love me.” She made eye contact and watched him quirk a brow. “It doesn’t. If you say it during sex, or in an attempt to get sex, it doesn’t count.” She shrugged. “It’s common knowledge.”

  His lips twitched. “Really? What if I said it now?” He leaned into her, brushing his mouth against hers. “I love you, Gabrielle Smith.”

  She closed her eyes, memorizing the words before shaking her head. “Still doesn’t count if you’re floating on an orgasm hi
gh.”

  His lips brushed hers again and again, each press more intimate and delicate than the last. “Oh,” he whispered. “Well, I guess I’ll have to prove it to you tomorrow.”

  The sound of a guitar riff broke the moment. Blake released his grip on her body and slid from the bed. “Sorry. It’s my phone.”

  She murmured in protest, already missing his warmth. He disposed of the condom and strode across the room, completely naked, completely stunning.

  “I’m waiting on a call from the guys.”

  She nodded and rested her eyes for a moment. The tug of sleep pulled at her with each passing second, and she wouldn’t allow it to take over. She didn’t want to miss a second of Blake. Moments later, she startled awake at the sound of his rough voice. Before she could sit up to brush off the tiredness, she drifted off again, her body humming in bliss.

  ***

  Blake snatched his phone off the kitchen counter, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Telling Gabi he loved her had come naturally. It flowed off his tongue easier than he would’ve imagined. He’d never felt like this before. He’d thought he’d been in love, had contemplated saying it once or twice, and now he knew he’d been wrong. Totally wrong.

  He raised his cell to his ear and kept his voice low. “Hello.” Gabi had been seconds from falling asleep when he left the room, and he fully expected her to be dreaming when he returned.

  “Blake?”

  The feminine voice froze the blood in his veins. Why the fuck hadn’t he checked the caller ID?

  “This isn’t a good time, Michelle. I’ve gotta go.”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up.”

  He paused—dick move. With the blunt way he ended their relationship, he still hadn’t experienced any closure. Curiosity often ate at him, wanting to know why she kept calling after all these years. Even though he’d walked away without a backward glance, he held hope that one day she would apologize for dragging him to hell with her.

  “I need you.” Her voice no longer held the hypnotic purr he once remembered. The words were slurred, her speech no doubt affected by drugs.

  He edged around the kitchen, striding down the short hall to the front door of the penthouse suite and hopefully out of listening range. It felt wrong to be on the phone to his ex when he’d been balls deep in Gabi only moments earlier. It didn’t help that he was buck ass naked with her sweet scent perfuming his body. “I’m sorry. I’ve moved on with my life. You need to do the same.”

  He’d been the one to break free of her, and still he harbored guilt for not trying to save her in the process. He hadn’t been strong enough to resist her back then. Every time she cooed for him to “come have a little fun,” he’d run to her. The decision to turn his life around had involved shutting her out completely.

  Best fucking decision of his life.

  “Blake, please. My father’s cut me off. I’ve got no money.”

  He suppressed a derisive laugh. Poor little rich girl. Rumors had circulated in the tabloids that her father, a multi-millionaire building tycoon, had grown tired of his eldest daughter’s partying ways. Blake couldn’t blame him. If only her old man knew the half of it.

  “I’m sorry, Michelle. Please don’t call me again.”

  He hung up, ran a rough hand through his hair, and shuffled back to the kitchen to place his cell on the counter. Gripping the edge of the cold marble, he hunched over and took long steadying breaths. He wasn’t an angry guy. It wasn’t in his nature. It was only when Michelle snuck her way back into his life or he was reminded of his past that the cloying tightness in his chest took hold. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

  It had been over twelve months since he last spoke to her. He’d learned to screen his calls, to delete her messages as soon as he heard her voice, but every now and then he slipped up.

  His phone rang again, and he quickly silenced the guitar riff. She must be flying high to think he’d answer her call after he’d hung up on her. When a voice message alert sounded, he ground his teeth together.

  He’d been with Reckless Beat for two months when she sashayed backstage at one of his first live performances and blew him away with her interest…and that talented mouth of hers. He’d been a nobody, the newest member of the band who the fans hadn’t warmed to.

  She’d smiled at him, batted her long fake lashes, and he was thrust back into the hormones of an adolescent with the brain capacity to match. Coming from a shitty childhood, he’d never had a woman like her glance his way. She came from a well known family, had loads of cash, and was a stunner in her designer labels.

  He hadn’t stood a chance.

  Drinks backstage turned into a limo ride to his hotel. Then before he knew it, she was pulling out a small baggie of white powder from her purse. Drugs hadn’t interested him before, apart from the occasional joint in high school, yet stupidity had him jumping at the chance to try coke for the first time, all in the effort to impress her. That was when his life took a nose-dive and didn’t pull up before he hit the pavement.

  Scrubbing a hand down his face, he clicked on the message and listened to the voice prompts. He started to play Michelle’s recording, “Blake, I’m sorry to do this—”

  Before he wasted any more time pitying her, he pressed delete and turned off his phone. If Mason rang, Blake would call him back in the morning. He wouldn’t risk another interruption from Michelle tonight.

  He planned to spend the next eight hours sleeping and making love to Gabi. The rest of the world be damned.

  Gabi combed her hair behind her ears and focused harder on the breakfast menu. Blake’s heated stare was distracting. She could feel it on her skin, across her breasts, between her thighs. Bloody hell, she’d had breakfast at this place more times than she could recall, yet for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what they served.

  Lifting her gaze, she found his eyes focused on her cleavage—her necklace, but it still made her skin ignite. She cleared her throat. No response.

  “Blake?”

  “Hmm?” Slowly his focus lifted.

  She grinned at him, and he hit her head-on with an arrogant smirk. Damn her, she loved that smirk. It matched the bad boy persona he hid behind so well.

  “Do you want a drink?” Getting up to place their drink order would stop her from mentally stripping him of his black tank top and taupe cargo pants.

  He’d made love to her in the early hours of the morning. Again in the shower when they awoke. Parts of her body were tender from overuse and still she craved more.

  He shook his head. “I’ll get the drinks. You stay here.”

  “No.” She pushed from her chair and stepped to the side of the table. “It’s fine. I’ll get them.”

  There were a heap of cafes in the area, so she’d cringed when Blake insisted on coming to the one pub that served breakfast. He’d said he remembered her stories about their huge hangover cure meals and needed to see what the fuss was about. She’d wanted to go somewhere quiet, more intimate—a place where alcohol didn’t line the walls behind the bar.

  Blake frowned, glancing over his shoulder. She followed the path of his gaze to the spirit bottles. When he turned back to study her, she scrounged around in her handbag, busying herself.

  He grabbed her hand, stilling her movements. “Gabi, you know I don’t have a problem with alcohol, right?”

  The raw emotion in his tone made her throat dry. Slowly, she dragged her attention back to his face and pressed her lips together at the shame in his eyes.

  “Angel, my problem was with coke. Only coke. I stopped drinking because my drug use tended to revolve around being drunk and I don’t like the reminder.”

  She nodded. “I know. I just…” She shrugged and readjusted the shoulder strap of her lemon sundress—apparently Tammy’s idea of appropriate clothing involved anything with easy access to Gabi’s underwear. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. As much as we’ve talked about it online, I’ve never been around you to see the effect it has.�
� Her voice was faint, each word grating over raw memories. She couldn’t help recalling the experiences with her brother when he was at the height of his addiction. Blake deserved more respect than that. He wasn’t like Greg, nowhere near it. “My brother’s eyes would glaze over at the slightest reminder of drugs or alcohol. I don’t want to put you in that position.”

  Blake pushed his chair out and tugged her down to sit on his lap. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He kissed her lips and placed his hand at the low of her spine. “I’m not your brother, and you don’t have to worry about my issues anymore, OK? They’re over. They have been for a long time.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned into his body, resting her head against his shoulder. “I know. I’m just edgy, I guess. I always get like this around my birthday.”

  He kissed her forehead and wrapped his other arm around her waist. “I hate that you worry about me. I’ll never go back there.”

  They sat in silence while her insecurities ate away at her. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Blake. It was the distrust her brother had earned that rubbed off on her. Greg promised too many times that he was fine, that he could fight temptation. And yet five years ago, on her birthday, he’d overdosed and ended up on life support, dying four days later.

  “Do you speak to her often?” The question came from nowhere. She hadn’t even felt the words brush her lips. After all this time, the memory of Blake’s ex still hovered at the back of her mind. When they first started communicating online, he’d told her about the temptation associated not only with drugs, but with Michelle Clarkson herself. Back then, the woman had been alluring in every way imaginable—beautiful features, great body, wealth, and popularity. Gabi didn’t blame him for falling for the actress. If Gabi was that way inclined, she probably would’ve given the woman a crack, too.

  He stiffened at her question, and she straightened to look him in the eye.

  “Not willingly,” he murmured.