by Piper Malone
I feel Kat stiffen in my arms, her breath becoming deep and purposeful. “Blake,” her fingers twist in my hair, her lips brushing across my ear, “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Breathing in her scent soothes me slightly. “Accepting that David is gone is easier on some days than others. Days like today, I think about what I could have done differently to save him.”
Kat curls her body closer to me, squeezing me with her legs and arms. “I’m sure you did everything you could, Blake. You are so good at what you do. You helped save an entire family tonight. You’re a hero.”
For someone who says she struggles to trust others, Kat is more than willing to allow me to cage her in an iron grip as her words destroy any restraint I had. She shifts to adjust under the pressure of my hold, but doesn’t try to escape. Kat allows me to use her body as the vessel to absorb my grief and pain.
My doll accepts it all. For what seems like hours, and even after the shit has been purged and we are able to enjoy calm silence, Kat’s arm stay wrapped around me, her plump lips pressing across my cheek and temple. Her affection is consuming and inspiring.
The need to keep her close, to make her mine, bursts through the heaviness in my mind. Kat’s body, her lips on my skin, the urge to have her in all the ways I crave detonates an explosive drive that rattles my spine.
“I need you, Kat.” The words are pressed against the column of her neck. My vise grip around her waist shifts to her shoulders, anchoring her body on the thick ridge of my cock.
The languid hum that emits from her mouth tells me everything. “You have me, Blake.” Her voice hitches when she grinds her body against mine, fingers gently pulling on my hair.
“Only for now?” I counter as I lift my hips, pressing against her delicate piercing. Her fingers digging into my hair, her full lips opening to allow the gasp of erotic pleasure to escape almost puts me over the edge.
“No, Blake,” she says, releasing me to pull at the hem of the thin dress she inched up her thighs to sit on my lap. The deep red material removed from her body with a slow pace makes me grateful for Kat’s desire to play the game. She’s naked under the garment. Kat was ready for me. She knew what I would want after a long day at work.
She’s my paradise.
Her fingers brush across the lush swell of her breast. “You have me,” she purrs.
I want her to know she’s mine. That I will destroy the possibility of any other man making her happy. Kat will know that I am all she will ever want or need.
The exhaustion of the day bleeds away, the heady drive to make her mine propelling me to bind us so tightly she will never be able to walk away.
A dark lust explodes in my gut, hungry to give her everything I have. My body. My mind. This aching feeling that comes from a rough day at work. She has the power to ease it all. Push away the ragged edges with her light touch.
Without a word, I stand up, her perfect ass held in my hands. Instinctively, she locks her ankles behind my back. I don’t have the ability to recall how many times I’ve held her like this. It’s our way. We cling to each other, bound by limbs and breath and a singular goal: pleasure.
The primal pieces of my mind demanding to take her won’t be restrained. I want to feast on her, spread her wide, and slake my need. Kat should know how often she consumes my thoughts. How the vision of every other woman is cast in the shadow of her radiant beauty.
I drop both of us on the bed with an unceremonious grunt. She squeals the second we bounce on the dense mattress, her body forced to feel every inch of mine.
“Blake,” she murmurs, “take this off.” She digs her greedy fingers into the waistband of my shorts. “I want your glorious cock inside me, like, five minutes ago.”
Her demand, while painted in the thick elixir of her filthy mouth, grates me. She’s running the show, again.
“Doll,” the word a deep growl, “today has been shit. I need you. You aren’t calling the shots tonight.” Before she can protest, my mouth captures her tight nipple, sucking with a powerful force that arcs her spine, a moan of satisfaction pushing from her plump lips.
She writhes under me, words mashing together into a begging, pleading mess I can’t decipher. But I can smell her. The words are incoherent but her body tells me everything I want to know. I have her. She’s mine.
Her roving touch halts the second my hands grip her wrists. Shifting to move down her body, I lay her arms flush against her sides, using my shoulders to spread her legs. Kat’s scent blooming in the air makes my eyes roll back in my head. Never has a woman been so intoxicating. Never have I wanted to keep someone so close.
Using our joined hands, I anchor Kat’s thighs before rubbing the tip of my nose against the peak of her slit. She whimpers, her hips opening wider.
“That’s my doll. Spread wider for me. Show me everything.”
“B-Blake,” she pants, “please…”
“Please, what?” I ask, before laying my tongue over her pussy and savoring the flavor of her desire. “Wider,” I demand, unlacing our fingers to push her knees until they touch the bed. “Keep your hands on your knees and show me everything. Don’t move.”
She listens and the vision is overwhelming. Kat open, willing to give me every part of her body, is everything I could have hoped for.
She is my heart.
Shucking off my clothes, I watch her heated stare and decide to give her a little of what I know she wants.
“Are you looking at me, doll?” The words punctuated with a heavy hand pulling my cock. She bucks, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. I watch the muscles of her thighs contract against her hold, as if her pussy was calling my dick home. “You want this?”
She releases her knees and starts to roll toward me. “Who’s calling the shots tonight, doll?” My words halt her movement. She blinks for a moment, thinking, correcting. “You said I have you, Kat.”
“You do,” she says quietly, her gaze falling to the mattress.
“Good. Now I want you on your back and I want to see what’s mine. Show me your pussy.” The words, her smooth movement back to her place, the pounding blood filling my cock create a force that obliterates the bullshit. It’s what I’ve been waiting for.
Kat and her acceptance of the act of submission.
When she lays back and exposes the shimmering beauty between her legs, I almost blow. “There’s my paradise,” I hum with satisfaction. “I’ve never wanted anything but you and your eager body.”
The second my mouth touches the apex of her thighs, a feeling of rightness settles over me. She’s a sensual treat, mine to devour. Kat’s beautiful piercing, a toy for the gentle tugs of my teeth. The walls of her sex hug my devious fingers playing her body, making it writhe beneath me. I gorge on her body until she fills the room with wild cries.
Since we’ve been together, one of my new favorite things is Kat coming all over my face. With a few well-placed digits and a deep suck on her clit, I can launch her into the stratosphere. Demanding a second orgasm has her writhing on the bed. Her gasps and moans heal the bruised parts of my soul. I need to be close to her, but we’re still not close enough.
Pressing my lips to hers after I’ve devoured her is nothing new. It’s been her signal to take over. Not tonight. I want her raw and dirty. On my terms.
When she opens her arms to me, I grip her wrists, pinning them above her head. She presses against the hold, her gasp becomes a strangled cry when I sink into her slick body with one deep thrust. The relief, the bliss of her body shimmering around me is heaven. She is everything.
She’s mine.
“Tell me, doll, do you love the feel of my cock inside you?”
“Yes,” she whimpers, her arms pressing against my grip. “Blake,” she pants.
“I love that you’re always ready for me,” I grit out the words between rough thrusts. “You are my paradise, doll. Always ready and willing for me to take.”
“Blake,” she whimpers, “I…I…”
Her pussy ripples, prepping to throw her over the edge again. Clasping her wrists in one hand, I use the other to play with her clit. I want her to feel everything. “C’mon, doll,” I cajole, her little bud pushing out from under its hood, “come all over my cock like the dirty girl you are.”
She screams, her pussy clamping down on me with such force I can’t hold back.
The lightning strikes unforgiving bolts up my spine. The wave of pleasure overwhelming, buckling my body as I fill her with my seed. “Fuck, yes!”
I collapse on her, the buzz of rushing blood drowning out the sound of my own ragged breath. My lips press into her neck and cheek, the start of our post-coital chitchat that always has me laughing. When I reach up to smooth her hair, messy from the romp, Kat’s expression stalls me.
Tears shimmer in her eyes, her gaze glued to the ceiling.
“Kat?” She says nothing, only stares upward. “Katya, what’s wrong?”
She blinks, heavy tears running down her temple and damping her hair. Her lips purse, chin puckering under the pressure. Her head rocks back and forth with an almost frantic pace.
The look on her face stabs me with panic. “Wait, doll. Talk to me, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Her wet eyes flash with wild anger. “Tell you what’s wrong?” she chokes out between sobs. “You held me down! You’ve never done that before.” She rips herself from the bed with erratic movements. “I’m not a whore, Blake!” she yells before stomping into the living room.
The rightness of the moment falls apart like wet cardboard, saturated from the tears shed by my doll, as I watch her perfect ass retreat from my bedroom.
“Wait, Kat,” I run after her, “let me explain!”
In the living room, Kat is pulling her shoes on with jerky efficiency. Her dress bunches around her waist in a haphazard knot.
“There’s nothing to explain, Blake,” she snaps. “I’m not a slut. I won’t be subjected to name-calling and having you tell me how I should fuck you. I’m equal opportunity, Blake. Not you take and I give.”
Her vision of what just happened is so skewed. “How could you think that wasn’t give and take? We both got off! It was beautiful!”
“Calling me dirty is beautiful?” Her face twists with an anger I’ve never seen before. “I’m not, and will never be, your plaything, stud. You might get off on taking what you want but that’s not how I roll.” Her eyes are rimmed in red, tears streaming down her face. “You said we would talk first.”
She’s out of her mind. Was she not just in that room? She thinks I’m taking liberties? “Don’t you think a man wants to cover his woman’s body with his own?” I rip my hands through my hair. “This is fucking unbelievable! Are you really leaving?”
“Sorry, Blake, the last time I checked, whores don’t spend the night.” Her voice is razor sharp.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I yell after her retreating figure. “Where are you going?” She zips toward the door. “Can’t you just talk to me?” Nothing, not even a jab. “Goddammit, Katya. Stop!” I haven’t used that volume or tone in years. She brings the beast out in me on all levels. The fiend who wants to do the filthy stuff to the woman he loves and the brute that needs to control a situation that is off the rails.
She whirls around, eyes narrowed, cheeks the color of rage, determination on her tear-stained face. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” she spits the words, laden with venom. “Is that part of this, you want to treat me like a little girl? Yell at me like I’m your kid, then pin me down and do whatever you want? No way, Blake.” She squares her shoulders before taking a deep breath. “I knew this wouldn’t work. I told you this wouldn’t work. But you had to push and push and you just never give up. I told you!” Her voice cracks, tears streaming down her face. “I come here and you make me feel all of…” she falters, as if searching for the words, “of this,” her hands flying around her chest like a wild bird, “and then you pounce. No way. I won’t do this.”
In the blink of a disbelieving eye, she’s gone.
She walked into my house with a calmness that settled the chaos.
Now, I’m alone, destroyed by the only person I want for the rest of my life.
Chapter 28
Kat
“Hey, can I come over?” Part of me doesn’t recognize my own voice.
She hesitates on the other end of the line. “Hold on.” I hear her cover the phone with her hand, her voice muffled as she speaks to the room. “Okay,” she says after a minute, “I’m alone.”
The thought of interrupting her evening sucks, but I can’t hold out any longer. It’s been four days since I ran out. I feel like I’ve been beaten to a bloody pulp. My face hurts from all the crying. No matter how much moisturizer I use, my skin still feels cracked, like peeling paint. I can’t think. I don’t want to cry anymore. I thought I was tougher than this. What is wrong with me?
“Reagan, please, I-I need to talk to you.”
The silence on the other end of the phone is heartbreaking. “I don’t know that now is a good time to come over, Kat.” I can hear her movement, a slight shift before her voice drops. “He’s here.”
The knowledge of his actual location is a blessing and a curse. I’m afraid to see him, but I’ve scanned every crowd hoping to catch a glimpse of Blake. I watch the news, wanting to know if there was a fire in his district. I battle with my own foolishness.
It was so screwed up. I was scared but felt safe. He was rough but so caring. It felt so right and so very wrong.
I don’t understand.
I think about his hands around my wrists and my belly tingles with want and then immediately revolts. My brain and body are locked in an epic battle. How can I enjoy being held down? Why do I feel like his presence is all I’ve ever wanted? All I have to do is be okay with giving myself over to him and let him adore me.
Which is what he did and I screamed in his face.
I never felt freer then when Blake took over that night. I’ve never suffered such horrible memories of my uncle’s taunts while I was having sex before that night.
I’ve always loved dirty talk, especially from Blake. But, that night everything felt so raw and I couldn’t separate my past from my present.
You’re a whore.
The memory sends an icy chill down my spine, shaking my frame. Reagan’s voice rescues me from the past.
“Kitten? Are you there?” Her voice is louder, laced with concern. “Kat,” she says with full force, “why do you sound like you’re running?”
Knowing that Blake can hear her conversation burns me. I don’t need him to know I’m a mess. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll catch up with you later.” My wounded words filter out.
“Kat, I can meet you somewhere. I can come to you.” Her voice drops; the plan to escape is covert. I can’t pit Reagan against her husband. He’s there for a reason.
“No. That’s okay.” I can’t be in my apartment anymore. I look at everything and see memories of him. I might have to move.
“Can we meet at a coffee shop?”
My wounded heart surges with an angry chug. “Why, Reagan? Because it’s not enough I’ve cried all over every surface here? Now I should wash away everyone’s pricey latte while I spill my guts? Perfect!” My frustration isn’t meant for her and I feel guilty the second my bitchy rant is done. However, it stings that she is with him and I’m alone. “I’m your friend, Reagan.”
“Right, Kat,” her voice is firm, understanding but obviously not appreciative of my childish behavior, “and I’m married to his best friend. This isn’t easy for anyone.”
I open my mouth, ready to spew on about the foundation of friendship when the conversation on the other end stops me. He’s talking to Reagan.
From my apartment, miles away, the sound of his voice, distant and weary, makes me want to crawl into myself and die. I don’t understand what happened. I can’t let him see me weak. I miss him. Living without him for these pa
st few days has been hell on earth.
“Okay,” she says, “he’s leaving. If you need to come over, our door is open.”
*
“You’re an asshole, Kat.”
Good. I could use a fight.
“Thanks for the newsflash, Caleb. Did you have fun popping beers over sessions of bash the bitch, bro-deo style?”
I hear Reagan take in a sharp breath. I’m sure on some level she thought this would be civil. This has to suck for her. She’s caught in the middle.
“No, Kat, we don’t degrade women for sport. Sadly, you’re too self-centered to see that.” Caleb has that tension about him that makes me a little nervous. He looks calm but I can hear the anger in his voice.
“I’m not selfish!” It feels good to yell, anger is a lovely change from self-loathing.
“The hell you aren’t! That man would do anything for you and you just prance about doing whatever you want. You think he’s happy? You think he’s fulfilled? Does that even matter to you? It must not because you can fall into bed with him, get your rocks off, and then run.” Caleb huffs, his frustration bleeding through. “You’re a coward.”
His accusation is a wrecking ball. “I have never backed down. I don’t hide from anything!” I don’t want the tears to make my voice watery, but they do. Caleb Dunn just cut me to the quick, and Reagan watched the whole thing without saying a word.
“Right,” Caleb continues, his tone bleeds understanding but has that cute accessory we all love: sarcasm, “until someone tries to love you. Then you’re all curse words and puffed feathers and high-tailing it out of there before someone can touch that exposed nerve you’re trying to hide.” He scoffs, “You’re not that tough.”
“I’m stronger than you know,” I counter. My words are almost a whisper. It’s unsettling to think that Blake, with all my imperfections, could actually still want me.
“No, you’re not because you don’t have the guts to open yourself to one man. The one man who has pursued you for months, and, if I’m not mistaken, has made life pretty enjoyable for you both. He took you to meet his family, Kat. That’s not the behavior of someone interested in a fling.” He stands, his frame towering over me before he moves across the span of the living room with fluid steps. With his eyes trained on the view of Boston, he utters his next words with such surety, I want to deck him. “You’re weak, Kat.”
