Please say more, she thought, and like a mind reader, Blake lowered his mouth to her ear. “You’re loving this, aren’t you, Uptown Girl? Taking my cock deep?”
Her protests were muffled in his palm but it seemed Blake got the gist. He fucked her harder, his flesh slapping hers, striking her clit in rhythm and making her whole body thrum.
“You’re a fucking liar, Blondie. You didn’t want it, you wouldn’t come, and you’re about to gush all over me. You’ll love being my sex slave, cooking my meals and draining my balls. It’s all brats like you ever want.”
It wasn’t true, but Autumn trusted that Blake knew that, that this was smoke and it was mirrors and it was lovely sexy lies. She threw her head back, orgasm welling like a ripe fruit between her legs.
Blake’s tongue lapped her neck, tasting her sweat. “That’s it. Come for your owner, baby. Make him proud.”
She did, bucking so wild and hard against her restraints that if Blake was any other man, she’d have worried about hurting him, but seeing as he was huge and hard, she decided not to be worried. Instead, she focused on the bright trickles of pleasure threading through her body like veins. She was flying.
Blake let out a harsh bellow, removing his hand from her mouth to grab both her hips. He fucked her rougher, thrusting in and out with abandon, chasing his own climax. She moaned to see him so wild, her stern, distant landlord coming apart at the seams—and all because of her. “Finish inside me, Blake. Please?”
He swore, his handsome face screwing up in a mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Please,” she repeated. “Please come inside me?”
“I will,” he moaned. “I’ll fucking fill you up. Make it so you never need another man again.”
Something about this rang strange in her ears but she was too caught up to give her much pause. “More? Please more?”
“You’ll get more,” Blake said, his gaze locked on where his thickness was vanished inside her. “I’ll ride your body every hour, wear you out like a fucking jacket. You’re a slut, Blondie, you’re my slut.”
Autumn knew he was about to come and while she’d fantasized a thousand times about watching this, she closed her eyes, letting herself feel it all instead. He poured himself between her legs with a strangled, almost wounded moan. “Autumn. Autumn.”
For a moment they hung, suspended in the frameless window that followed climax. She kept her eyes closed as she nuzzled Blake’s shoulder, tasting the salt of him. She wanted to say thank you again, but knew that wasn’t right. They’d just shared something, and while she was grateful, thanking him would be silly. They’d built it together. Whatever it was.
She was just starting to worry about the condom when Blake placed a gruff kiss on her forehead and pulled out. She listened, her eyes still shut as he snapped off the rubber and swooshed the material of his shorts back over his cock.
“Autumn? How do you feel?”
She opened her eyes and smiled at his look of mild worry. “I feel…”
“Yeah?”
“I feel so fucking free.”
And she rolled her head back and laughed because it was true, she was suspended in midair, half-naked and covered in sweat but she felt so free.
Blake shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a sort-of smile. “Glad to hear it.”
“I’ll bet you are. How do you feel, by the way?”
“Good,” Blake said, which she chose to believe meant ‘extremely fantastic Autumn, you’re the absolute fucking best.’ “That’s good.”
He reached forward and touched her cheek. “I liked giving you what you need.”
“You did.” She sat up in her bonds and looked at him, ignoring the hot pressure in her chest, that feeling that continued to encroach whenever Blake said anything sweet. “Okay, so…what now?”
Another of her landlord’s trademark smile-but-not-smiles. “Now we go for a drink.”
CHAPTER 12
Autumn stared around the bar. Once again, Blake had surprised her. The place wasn’t dingy and it wasn’t ultra-high end, it was…cool. Floating pink lights, garish oil paintings and black leather lounges filled every space not taken by New York natives coalescing with their usual glamour. Autie was thankful for her magenta lipstick, black camisole and crimson cigarette trousers which, in the semi-darkness, could pass for chic.
“What?” Blake asked as he settled in the velvet tub chair across from hers.
“This isn’t what I was expecting when you said ‘grab a drink.’ But then, I rarely expect anything you do, so maybe I should expect this.”
“Don’t like the place?”
“No I really like it, it just doesn’t seem very…you.” Autumn picked up the single sheet cocktail menu and almost choked on her tongue. “Okay, this? The unbelievable sticker shock? This seems like you.”
Blake laughed, the sound like the lower notes on an oboe. “Then I shouldn’t have to say ‘order whatever you like Fun-Size, and don’t bitch about the price tag.’ But I will. Order whatever you like Fun-Size, and don’t bitch about the price tag.”
Autumn tapped the menu. “Have you seen how much they’re charging for a shot of vodka? This is offensive. I’m gonna organize an occupy movement inside this bar.”
He chuckled again. He seemed so much lighter tonight. He’d smiled multiple times on their way from the Krav gym to the bar and when they crossed the road, he’d taken her hand. As they walked, she’d felt completely safe on the streets of New York for the first time, secure the way she’d felt secure dangling in her rope harness. Blake had her, and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen. Except paying thirty-two bucks for a cocktail, apparently.
Her landlord rubbed his hands down his granite thighs. “Right, what do you want?”
Autumn glanced at the menu again and its choices swum up at her like drunk, highly expensive fish. “I…can you pick for me?”
Blake didn’t even hesitate. “Sure.”
He stood up and headed to the bar. Alone for the first time in hours, she tapped out a quick text to Owen informing him she was fine and the second date was going well. She’d barely put her phone down when Blake returned, two drinks in hand. His was a highball; hers was what looked like a bright green milkshake full of pink flowers and pineapple chunks. She stared at it in wonder. “What is that?”
Blake shrugged. “Something with pineapple.”
He placed it in front of her and Autumn bent forward and took a small sip through the bamboo straw. It was cool and sweet with a slightly astringent aftertaste. “It’s nice, thank you.”
Blake nodded.
“How did you pick it? Did you just tell the bartender to make something girly?”
“No.”
Autumn waited, knowing if she stayed quiet he would say more. A few seconds passed and her landlord’s eyebrows drew together. “Someone else ordered it and I thought you’d like it. The flavors looked tropical. Sunny. They seemed like they’d suit you.”
Autumn smiled down at her cocktail, remembering how he’d compared her to the sunshine outside Happy Paws. “You’ve never seen me when the Bombers, my football team, are losing. You wouldn’t compare me to the sunshine, then. I set new records for the number of swears per second.”
Blake’s lips curled a little as he sipped his drink and she wondered when a compliment had ever felt as good as that little half-smile. Never, she realized. And silence had never been so sweet. She had never understood the appeal of the strong silent type before, but being with Blake meant she didn’t have to keep up a constant stream of chatter the way she did with her vet clients. She didn’t have to listen to endless self-focused stories the way she had with Ian. She was free to really taste her drink, to look around the bar and study the art and people without worrying she was losing the thread of a conversation. It was very…peaceful.
When Autumn was nine, her cousin Jessica had brought home a Brazilian boyfriend. Josef spoke almost no English and Jessica spoke almost no Portuguese but they soon g
ot engaged and moved in together. Autumn’s family had found the situation utterly bizarre.
“How can you love someone if you don’t understand a bloody word they’re saying?” her mother moaned into the landline. “It’ll never work.”
Autumn, too young to be tactful, had gone up to Jessica that Christmas and asked her how she could have a boyfriend if she didn’t know what he was saying. She’d never forget the look on Jessica’s face, the mysterious smile, the warmth in her eyes. “Everyone’s gossiping about me, aren’t they?”
Autumn had nodded.
“Well you can go tell them all I don’t care. Love isn’t just saying words. What we feel is real.”
At the time, Autumn had assumed her cousin meant kissing or possibly—yuck—sex, but now, looking at Blake, what she said rearranged themselves in the context of this lovely, confusing man. True, Blake spoke English, but only reluctantly. His words were blunt and, dirty talk aside, came in clusters of three or five. They meant exactly what the most literal interpretation of those words were, nothing more or less. That should have been a problem, but it just wasn’t.
As she drank her drink in that same companionable silence, she realized it didn’t matter because what he said paled in contrast to what he did. He’d taken her to a five-star restaurant, asked her about comedy and come to her workplace to apologize for being a cocklord in person. Those things talked. They said he thought she was special, interesting and worthy of his time. Their sex spoke, too. The connection between their bodies was so fluent, it could have served as a UN interpreter. She’d never felt so utterly wild, yet completely safe.
Love isn’t just saying words, Autumn thought. What we feel is real.
He leaned forward. “What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking that for a quiet guy, you actually say quite a lot.”
She expected him to smile or make a two-word crack, but he stared at her, his eyes hot with the same intensity that had burned when he was inside her. She was sure he was going to say something profound. Then he looked away, and despite her earlier acceptance of his impassive nature, all Autumn could think was: Talk to me fuckhead! Say what your brain is doing!
Instead, Blake took another swallow from his highball. “Why did you become a vet?”
Autumn bit back a sigh. Small talk. She and Blake had lived in the same building for six months, sucked each other’s intimate areas, shared a two-hundred-dollar cake, taken a self-defense class together and now they were doing rudimentary small talk. Christ.
She stared at her date and wished she knew what she was feeling. She liked him; she liked having sex with him, but as much as she appreciated his stoicism, the fact was Josef knew enough English to ask Jessica to be his girlfriend and then agree to come to Australia. Though he had a far better grasp of Autumn’s mother tongue, Blake had done neither. She was getting all crushed out on him, while he’d given her no indication he saw this as anything more than a fling. He knew she was thinking of leaving. She’d told him about her work visa that day in her apartment with the pigeons. But he’d given her no indication, in English or otherwise, that he was invested in her as anything other than a valued fuck-buddy.
She licked her lip, inwardly chiding herself for thinking on such silly things. This was a whirlwind fuckfest and Blake was wonderful. Couldn’t she just enjoy that for the weeks—days, really—that she had left before she either renewed her visa or allowed the fates, or more homeland security, to take her back to Melbourne?
“I love animals,” she said, the practiced lines slipping off her tongue the way they always did. “I mean, I know everyone loves animals, but I got a lot of hands-on experience helping my uncle when I was a kid—he’s a vet, too, so I knew what to do. That’s about it really…”
Feeling dumb about her answer, she took a massive sip of her drink and almost choked. Blake either didn’t notice or chose to ignore this failure to be a human. “What else?”
“Huh?”
“That’s not the whole reason you’re a vet. There’s more.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and all the more grating for the fact that it was a true one.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, then felt stupid. What was she, fourteen? “I don’t want to talk about it without knowing something about you. Something personal.”
Blake frowned. “Why?”
“Because if I open up, I don’t want to feel alone.”
There was a short silence and then he exhaled loudly. “I told you I haven’t been on a date in ten years. That’s because I used to be engaged.”
Whoa.
Autumn worked hard to keep a straight face as the truth of that statement washed over her. Blake had been engaged. He could have been someone’s husband more than ten years ago. How fucking bizarre. “What the hell…what happened?”
Blake cast his gaze around the bar to settle on a painting of a merman with aqua blue hair. “She cheated. I found out at a bad time. Not that there’s ever a good time.”
Autumn, thinking of Ian’s phone nudes, nodded, even as she struggled to process the idea of someone doing that to Blake. Not only was her landlord lovely, he was so goddamn perceptive. How had his ex managed to pull the wool over his eyes long enough to cheat? She wanted to say something but found she had no words that didn’t sound like pity—something she knew he’d resent. God knew she had. ‘Oh you had no idea, huh? Not even a clue? Nawww, better luck next time, sweetie.’
“Sorry,” she managed, because she was so very sorry someone had hurt him. “That must have been shit.”
“It was.” Blake sat back in his chair. “You said one personal thing, Fun-Size. Time for you to talk.”
Autumn attempted a pout. “Why do you want to know why I really became a vet?”
“Because I do.”
“Care to elaborate at all?”
Blake just stared at her.
“Fine.” Autumn took a fortifying drink of cocktail, realized she was almost at the bottom of her glass and drained the rest of the foamy green liquid into her mouth. When she resurfaced, Blake was grinning at her. “Need a napkin?”
“Shut up.” She swiped a forearm across her mouth. “I’m nervous.”
He watched her over the rim of his glass and sipped his drink.
Autumn waited, realized he wasn’t going to tell her not to bother telling him about her past, and then sighed. “So my family is poor. Like really poor. Growing up, my mum’s go-to phrase was, ‘that’s too expensive!’ My dad’s was, ‘turn off the lights! Electricity isn’t free!’ Me and my brothers can laugh about it now, but it wasn’t very funny when I was a kid.”
Autumn took a deep breath, appreciating Blake’s silence anew. She rarely paddled in the pools of her childhood memories, and for good reason. They were swampy with affection and confusion and resentment. To talk about it, she needed to go at her own pace, process her thoughts and memories as they came up.
“I can’t explain what it was like living in that house,” she said after a minute. “I have three brothers and they were always in and out of jobs and relationships and rehab and sometimes jail. My mum ran a hairdressing salon out of the spare room and my dad was always letting some divorced asshole friend of his sleep on our couch. Then my racist grandma moved in and started all these fights with our Korean neighbours…” Autumn drew a deep, shuddering breath. “It was insane. Everything was always insane. Morning ’till night, it was noise and people and fights and drama.”
“And where were you in all this insanity?” Blake asked. His voice was low and Autumn loved how calm he sounded, how unaffected.
“I was drawing something in a corner or at the library doing my homework. Staying out of everyone’s way.”
“You didn’t fit in.”
“Never. I was nothing special, but I did not belong in that house. I hated the noise. The fact that anyone could show up and do anything at any fucking time…” Another shudder ran through her.
Blake
inclined his head. “You make good grades?”
“Straight A’s.”
“Ever get in trouble?”
Autumn tried to laugh, but it came out as a kind of huff. “No.”
“I bet your parents were proud of you.”
“They were.” She looked into his eyes and was relieved to see he understood. How she was the good kid, the one Shane and Patricia could look to and reassure themselves they weren’t shit parents. How their love always felt cut with obligation. They were so sold on her being successful, they basically shoved her at Uncle Dan and told him to make her a vet. Well her mum had, her dad wanted her to be a doctor. To this day, she was grateful her dad didn’t personally know any doctors or she’d be Autumn Reynolds, brain surgeon at large.
“So, why did you become a vet?” Blake asked. His voice was light, but his gaze said he wanted to know the truth and, goddammit, autumn wanted to tell it to him.
She swallowed. “I became a vet…because I wanted to make my parents proud.”
“And if you could do it all again?”
She stared out at the bar without seeing anything. Wasn’t that the very question?
“It’s hard to say,” she said slowly. “I like being a vet, but I feel like I missed out on those chaotic early years where you change jobs seven times and have no idea what you want. Maybe that’s selfish, but I never really had a choice. While I was studying twelve hours a day, my friend Candice was on the quad pretending to be a cat—she did drama.”
“You ever think about studying drama?”
“Not really. I was Beatrice in my school’s production of Servant of Two Masters. I wasn’t a good actor, but I liked making people laugh.”
“You stopped, though.”
“I couldn’t handle plays once I was at university. And then…” She hesitated, not wanting to needlessly mention Ian.
“Go on,” Blake said. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Captivated Page 18
