by Joya Ryan
“What do you want, Carrie?” Blake asked.
“I want love. A family. A happy, full life. A man who doesn’t like yoga pants, because let’s face it, my butt is too big for them.”
Blake grinned. “You look good in everything,” he said, trying to stay away from the other things she mentioned, because no way in hell could he help with that. The love, family, commitment stuff was not his scene.
“I want to feel sexy. Wanted. But whenever I start to feel…” She blushed and glanced down at her hands.
“Feel…?” he coaxed, knowing that if these feelings were based on what he’d just seen, he had a good guess where she was going with this.
“In the mood,” she admitted softly. “I start to think too much. I don’t want to think anymore. I just want to…to…feel good!”
He nodded. He could understand that. He wanted her to feel good, too.
“It’s your fantasy, little girl. You should have whatever you want,” he offered in agreement, trying not to look at her soft shoulders or how her neck sloped delicately into her collarbone. He also tried not to think of her gentle hands and where they’d just been. If she’d been thinking of him. Was praying she had been. Part of him even wondering if she still was.
Then he told that part of his brain to shut up. But the other part of his brain was on fire with desire for her.
Her eyes hit him. “Ask me again.”
He frowned. “Ask you what?”
“Ask me what I want,” she demanded.
Blake was still frowning but went along with it. “Okay, what do you want, Carrie?”
“You,” she whispered.
Her big molasses eyes locked on his, and sitting in a ruffled bed, in silk and golden hair, she looked like an angel.
Me. She wants me.
No, he had to stay strong.
“Carrie, we can’t. We’ve already danced along a fine line, but anything more and there would be no turning back.”
“Good,” she said. “I don’t want to turn back. I want to move forward. I feel better when I’m with you. And it’s not all fake. Part of my fantasy is feeling wanted. I haven’t felt wanted, sexy, in a long time.”
She glanced down at her hands again, and Blake hated the insecurity plaguing her face.
He said her name, trying to buy time to tell his brain why this was bad. Trying to think of a way to help her. I’m supposed to protect her from myself.
“Do you want me?” she asked.
Blake stared at her for a long moment. The answer was simple, but he couldn’t say the words, because then he’d be no better than what he was trying to save her from.
“Never mind,” she said.
“Yes,” a guttural sound came out with the admission. Her eyes snapped back to his. “Of course I want you, Carrie.”
Because goddamn him, he wouldn’t refuse her in this moment if that was what would cause her pain.
“Then take me. This is what I want.”
“The fantasy?” he clarified. It was her turn to pause. But she finally nodded.
“Your whole purpose coming here was to help me move on, gain confidence, keep me safe, and let me experience an adventure?”
“Yes.”
“Then help me experience the adventure in its entirety. I want you. Now.”
He tilted his head to the side, examining her. He recognized that little flare in her voice. She was taunting him. As if the slow, emotional moment they were in only held them immobile. If Blake was going to cross a threshold and burn the bridge he walked over to get there, part of him needed to do it like a crazed fiend with no sense beyond the moment.
And judging by the look in Carrie’s eyes, she knew it, too.
“Unless your word is no good?” she taunted. “Maybe you’re shy?”
His blood was boiling, and she cleared her throat and laid back a little, examining her fingernails, then slowly trailing them down her stomach.
“You know, part of my fantasy is to be completely taken over by a man. Feel his strength, have him toss me around a little. Slap my ass. Make me beg.” Her hand went lower. “But maybe you’re not the man for the job.”
Boiling point reached.
His entire body lit up like firecrackers had gone off in his veins. Maybe it was the tension rising over the past week, or maybe it was Carrie tapping into everything he wanted to do and was more than capable of.
But he saw only her, and if this is what she wanted, by God, he’d deliver.
He flew to the bed, grabbed her wrists, and yanked them over her head, pinning her on her back. Face-to-face, he leaned down so she could feel his lips when he said, “If you really want to go through with this, we will. But don’t you dare touch yourself, thinking of me, and expect me not to respond.”
She took a heavy breath and gently bit his lower lip. “Oh, I’m ready for your response.”
With that he crushed her mouth with his.
…
Carrie would have grabbed tightly to Blake, but he held her wrists over her head. She was writhing trying to get near him. To touch him. To take him up on his offer.
Rules were gone.
All pretense was gone.
She needed him.
All of him.
Blake was savage against her. As if holding out was hurting him as much as it was hurting her. Whatever step they were taking toward something real, she didn’t care. At least she felt loved and desired by him in a way that had never happened with Kevin.
“I want you.” She wiggled, trying to get out of his grip, but he held fast. His big sweaty body on hers, making her feel small and delicate. He gathered her wrists into one of his hands and cupped her between the legs.
“You’ll have me,” he said, rubbing her already wet core. He grinned and leaned down to suck her breast beneath the silk night gown, leaving the damp fabric clinging to her pouting nipple. “You were close earlier,” he said, still rubbing his fingers along her folds, dipping inside her just an inch, then returning to rub newly moistened fingers against her clit.
She gasped.
“Yes, I was close.”
“Mmmm,” he rubbed faster. “Were you thinking of me?”
“Yes,” she said instantly.
“Tell me what thoughts you had.”
His finger dipped again and she arched, wanting more. She tried to shove his shorts down with her feet, but he nipped her breast and she gasped again.
“This is my retaliation, little girl. We’re doing this my way.”
“Please, just get inside me. Slow, hard, fast, rough, I don’t care. I want it all, just please come inside me.”
“And I’ll give that all to you,” he said lowly. “But first”—he rubbed her clit again, keeping her right on edge, teasing her—“tell me what you thought of.”
“I thought of your mouth on me.”
She arched upward thinking of the memory. She might not be able to move much, but she could lift her head, and Blake’s neck and bare chest were right there to meet her. She kissed the pulse beating in his throat and heard him groan.
“I thought of my mouth on you,” she continued. “Thought of how big you are and wondered what you’d feel like.” She kissed down his neck and along the top of his shoulder.
“More,” he said. “Tell me more.”
She faintly heard a wrapper opening, felt him move a tad. Grabbing a condom from his pack by the bed, she thought. But she still couldn’t move. He was looming over her. She was his hostage and she loved it.
“I wondered what you’d feel like. If you’d be slow, or rough…” She grazed her teeth against his shoulder. “But I guess I’ll lie here waiting for you to make up your mind—”
He surged his big cock deep into her.
She bit down on his shoulder to stifle a scream.
“Getting mouthy with me, little girl?” he said around a strangled breath.
“Impatient,” she said against his skin, and he withdrew, then thrust back inside, making her
breasts bounce hard and her teeth clatter.
“My God, you’re tight,” he said.
She was already tensing around him, ready to come from the orgasm he’d been denying her.
“You feel so good,” she breathed, moving her legs, her hips, anything to get closer to him. “I want to feel you all over me.”
“Anything you want,” he said.
He released her wrists and wrapped one arm around her back. Never leaving her body, he picked her up enough to turn her on the bed so her head barely hung over the edge, and she looked up at the ceiling.
He yanked her nightgown up and off of her in one swipe. Splaying his big hand over her back, he lifted her naked body just enough to arch her back, as if presenting her breasts to his mouth, which he immediately took.
Sucking hard on her nipple, he held her like a doll and thrust in and out, the sound of her wetness meeting him, ending with the soft smack of his hips slapping her inner thighs.
Sticking true to his word, she really did feel him everywhere. From his mouth on her breasts, sucking and licking, to his hands roaming over her skin and holding her weight, while he pumped himself in and out of her, delivering a hard snap of pleasure each time as he consumed her.
“Blake,” she whispered.
“Say it again,” he replied, pumping faster. Harder.
“Blake,” she said louder. One hand clutched the sheets while the other scoured down his back.
“Come for me,” he said, and she felt him tense inside of her. He was close, too. And the feel of his mouth and hard thrust of his cock was too good to deny.
Her pleasure swooped in like a hawk, snatching away her sanity and leaving her blood on fire and her body limp. She couldn’t hold herself together anymore. Her back hit the mattress and her whole body convulsed over and over with her orgasm.
“Good girl,” he whispered in her ear, thrusting two more times and finding his own release. Just the power of it left her with aftershocks.
She hugged him close. Breathing hard, his weight so deliciously heavy and good against her, she clung to him and felt his wild heart beating against hers in the same rhythm.
Chapter Eight
Carrie ate a bite of toast Blake held out for her. She was giggly and happy, and sore in the best way. There was nothing about last night that didn’t feel right. Everything she’d come here to forget was front and center, and yet, she felt more free and happy than she had in a while.
“You look in good spirits,” Blake said.
“Well you look like you didn’t get a wink of sleep,” she replied.
He leaned in and nipped her earlobe. “That’s because a little vixen kept me up all night.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining,” she said.
“And you won’t, because this fake relationship is the best thing about this place.”
Fake.
That word hit her harder than it had these last few days. But that’s what this was. She’d need to keep that mind, especially since Kevin and Wendy were walking up, threatening to ruin her morning afterglow.
…
God, Carrie was gorgeous. Tan and beautiful and happy. If this was what fake felt like, he should have done this a long time ago.
But all things come to an end, and even though they’d broken a rule and had sex last night, it didn’t mean anything had changed on the “fake” front. They were still friends, but this vacation would end and they’d go their separate ways. In the meantime, he would still protect her and help her with her fantasy.
“You know, I have to admit something that I was disappointed in last night,” he said.
Carrie leaned in and looked worried. “Oh?”
He nodded, giving an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, I didn’t get to enjoy the coconut bra.”
She looked him dead in the eye. “Me neither. I was really hoping you’d model for me.”
He laughed. Honest to God laughed. The woman was witty and quick and smart.
“What do you want to do today?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder again. He looked back as well and saw the couple from hell approaching.
“Well I guess we have no choice but to fill our time with fun and games and not them.” He hiked a thumb in Kevin and Wendy’s direction.
She smiled and looked out over the ocean. There was a wading area with a net set up for various games.
“I’m not very competitive,” he said with a sly grin.
“Bullshit.”
He laughed. But before he could enjoy his conversation with Carrie further, the demon painter and his witch lady strode up.
“You two are up early,” Kevin said, walking up with his sunglass on and his shirt open. Blake wanted to burn every single Hawaiian shirt and hemp necklace the tool had.
“It’s eleven,” Carrie said.
“Yeah, well, the lady and I were up late last night,” Kevin said with an overexaggerated stretch. So they were still on this and Blake didn’t care whatever anyone said. What he and Carrie shared beat the hell out of whatever Kevin was capable of. Which wasn’t a lot, he’d bet.
We’re back to fake, stupid.
He internally cursed himself, trying to remember that while the lines of real and fake were blurry, he still needed to play his part.
“Oh we’re feeling great, had amazing sleep after passing out hard from…all the exercise.” She winked at Blake, and yep, there was that competitive side coming out.
“You two up for a friendly game of volleyball, then?” Kevin asked, pointing to the ocean net setup. “Wendy here was considered for the Olympics.”
Lying douche.
“Yes,” Carrie said instantly. “I am short, but I’m scrappy.”
“Yes you are,” Blake said, grabbing her knee below the table, and he loved watching goose bumps break out over her skin whenever he touched her. She liked his touch, and he liked giving it to her, so they were doing well so far. But the idea of spending any time with Kevin made his skin crawl. “But didn’t you want to get going?” Blake offered Carrie the out.
“I’m sure we can play at least one game,” Carrie said, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. She whispered by his ear, “We have a chance to spike a ball at Kevin’s face. I want to take it.”
“Well played,” Blake agreed. He told Kevin, “You’re on.”
“Great,” Kevin said with a snotty undertone. “See you over there.”
Blake held up his orange juice to toast Carrie.
“Let the volleyball ass whooping begin,” he said.
She clinked her mimosa flute with his glass. “It’s so on.”
Chapter Nine
Kevin called out the score and hit the volleyball over the net toward Carrie and Blake. Carrie went for it, hit it back, and the water danced around her stomach, her breasts bouncing with every move she made. That was the only part about this game he was enjoying.
With every flash of her smile and peek of her skin in that sexy two piece she was wearing, all Blake wanted to do was get her back to the suite, where he could taste everything concealed beneath her swimsuit.
“One more point and we win,” he said to Carrie, smacking her perfect ass beneath the water.
“Game point,” Kevin said, serving right at Carrie. Hard. She instinctively covered her face with her hands, and the ball ricocheted off her forearms and up. Blake bolted to the ball, and just as it hit its height, he jumped and spiked it back down at Kevin, beaming the prick in the throat.
Carrie was right, that did feel good.
“We won!” Carrie said cheerfully and threw herself into his arms. Blake kissed her and waded into a bit deeper water, away from the net, away from Kevin and Wendy, away enough so they could talk and have an ounce of privacy.
“Man, that felt good beaming that fucker,” Blake said, running his palms up and down Carrie’s thighs. Her hair was wet and her skin was bright in the sun.
“I’m so jealous,” she said.
“I have to ask, what did you ever see in that guy?
”
She shrugged. Shit, what a stupid question.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” she said. “But for the past year, we weren’t even a real couple. I should have known…”
“What do you mean?” Blake asked.
She wrapped her wet arms around his neck and shrugged. “We didn’t live together. Didn’t have sex. Just weren’t anything, really.”
“Hold up,” Blake said, putting the pieces together. “So last night was the first time you’ve had sex in a year?”
“Probably a little longer than that,” she said softly. Then her eyes shot to his. “I’m clean,” she said, and the poor woman thought Blake was going somewhere else with his train of questions. “And I’m on the pill, but I just thought you should know that.”
He nodded and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you for telling me. And I’m good, too. Just FYI.” He winked.
“Well, good to know.” She smiled saucily. “And I trust you, Blake. I always have.”
Those words hit his chest hard. She trusted him. That gave him an odd sting right between the ribs.
He gripped the backs of her thighs and wrapped them around his waist, easily holding her, since the water was concealing them and taking their weight from the chest down.
She wiggled against him, her center right against his cock, and that was all it took to make his semi rage into full attention.
“My, my, someone must like volleyball,” she teased.
“I like watching your amazing body,” he amended, giving it a squeeze to emphasize his point.
“You must be out of your mind,” Carrie said.
“Why?”
“Look around you,” she said, motioning to all the women laying out tanning on the beach.
“I’m looking at what I want to look at,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on her face.
She shifted a little, and he bit back a groan, because she was shifting against the one area that made it difficult to think of anything but her and her sexy curves.
“Can I ask you something?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
She glanced down and drew a little circle with the pad of her finger along his shoulder. She was nervous.
