by R. C. Martin
We had more sex last night than I’ve had in one night for years. That said, it doesn’t stop me from wanting her right now. With my arm locked around her waist, I hold her to me as I flip onto my back. She buries her fingers in my hair as she licks and nibbles across my scruffy jaw, and I take hold of her ass, using both hands. She sighs as I groan when I drag her pussy across my dick, finding her already wet for me. Her fingers close in a tight fist in my hair as I continue to move her back and forth. She feels so good—warm, silky, and soft—and I can’t stop myself from easing my way inside of her bare.
“Michael,” she whispers on a shudder.
I moan in response, my hands sliding up her smooth back and into her hair. Gently, I tug her head up, just enough to align our lips. “Kiss me, Blaine.”
She doesn’t deny me, but plunges her tongue into my mouth, kissing me slowly—sensually. It’s a kiss lazy mornings are made of, and it makes me want to take my time. As she continues to work my mouth, I slide my hands back down her body. I graze the side of her breasts, and she rocks her hips, silently telling me what she needs. Taking hold of her ass once more, I guide her movements, syncing them with mine.
When I can no longer stand the restrictions of our current position, I roll her onto her back, never breaking our connection. She looks up at me, her gaze sweet and affectionate, and I roll my hips, thrusting as deep as I can go. I hold myself still for a second and then gently ease my way out before repeating the sequence. She shudders beneath me, her hands feeling their way along my neck, over my shoulders, and down my chest. When her fingertips graze over my nipples, I groan, plunging inside of her.
“Michael,” she whimpers, hitching her knees up against my sides. I fall into her deeper, pressing in until my balls rub up against her, taking on her wet arousal. Wishing to keep her exactly where she is, I reach beside me and guide her ankle around my back. Without a word, she crosses her feet behind me, and we breathe together as I continue to roll my hips.
“God—you feel so good.”
She mewls into my mouth when I close my lips around hers and then circles her arms around my shoulders. We love on each other, savoring the moment with all that we are, and it’s incredible. I’m so lost in her that nothing else exists—nothing else matters. Not here. Not now. She’s my only focus.
When the feel of her tight, wet center is too much for me, and I know I can’t hold back much longer, I sever our kiss and stare down at her face. Keeping my steady pace, I slip my hand between us, finding her clit with my thumb. She gasps, arching her back, and I smear her arousal slowly, yet firmly, until she’s trembling all around me. I know she’s close. I’m now well versed with her body, and I’m sure I’ve brought her to the edge.
“Come with me, angel,” I murmur, my balls tightening as they gear up for my release. My thrusts become jerky as I try to keep myself together, and I quicken my thumb on her clit. Touching the tip of my nose to the tip of hers, I groan, “Let go, baby.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders as she wails with her orgasm, the walls of her core strangling my dick so hard, I lose my grip on my control. I grunt incoherently as I drive into her once, and then once more before I spill my seed inside of her.
Blaine
I’M IN LOVE with him.
As my body continues to tremble with the aftershock of what we just shared, as he gathers me in his arms and rolls us onto our sides—as he holds me, I know that there’s no other way for me to describe how I feel. He’s it for me. Going to sleep with him and waking up with him, I’ve never felt more safe and protected. It’s not simply that he’s larger than Mateo was. It’s not that he’s more dominate in bed than any guy I’ve ever been with. It’s more than that. It’s deeper than that. It’s the realization that he’s been taking care of me since the moment we met. In one way or another, my well-being has always mattered to him. We still have so much to learn about each other, and I want that—more than anything, I want that—but even now, I’m sure. My heart is sure.
I learned, while mom was dying, that there are some things that you can never speak aloud; things that can’t be expressed with mere words. There’s an understanding between two people who love each other that is conveyed through a touch or a look or just their presence. When mom died, I was in the room. That connection that I had with her, I felt it leave. All that was left was my love for her and my broken heart. I didn’t think that I’d feel anything as strong as the bond I had with my mother ever again. Then I met Michael.
What we just did wasn’t sex. We’ve had sex. Last night, we had lots of sex—but just now, that was something more. That was a forging of a bond that made my heart feel so full. Full of love. Love…and terror.
I know that so long as he wears that wedding band, he’ll never be wholly mine. The thought of losing him makes me question if my love is actually the same thing as my terror.
“Hey,” he hums, running a hand over my hair. “I’m right here, angel. Don’t cry.”
I suck in a breath and lift my head, surprised that the aftershock of my orgasm is actually my body shaking with my sob. When my gaze crashes into his, his gorgeous, blue eyes dancing around my face, I know that I’m not ready to tell him all that’s in my heart. Not yet. Not like this. But I also know that we made a deal. We don’t keep secrets from each other. So I do the next best thing and address my fear head on.
“I want you to be mine.”
A small smile curls one corner of his mouth as he gently runs the back of his knuckles down my cheek, drying my tears. “I already am.”
Pressing my body closer to his, I whisper, “I want you—I want you to stop having sex with Veronica.” His body freezes around me, but I’m not finished. “I know you probably have sex with her. She’s your wife. It would be weird and suspicious if you stopped, but I—I just—”
“It’s done,” he declares, circling both arms around me and crushing me against him. “I’ll spare you the details, but I’m already yours, Blaine. It’s done. I won’t have sex with her anymore.”
I sag with relief in his hold, tucking my face in his neck as I breathe, “Thank you.”
“You deserve so much more. It’s the least I can do.”
Michael
I HOLD HER until I think she’s fallen back to sleep, and then I move to see about breakfast.
When she makes an incomprehensible noise and holds onto me, I can’t silence my chuckle as I ask, “What was that?”
“Where are you going?”
“I thought you might like some breakfast.”
Her head pops up, and her wide eyes meet mine as she murmurs, “Breakfast?”
“If you have all I need, yes. I make some damn fine pancakes, if I do say so myself.”
She brings her hands up and holds both sides of my face as she stares at me silently. I don’t move or speak, waiting for her to say whatever it is that’s on her mind. Finally, she tells me, “I love pancakes.” She presses her lips against mine and then playfully shoves at my shoulder. “Chop, chop, Governor. I could definitely use the carbs.”
Grinning, I reach around and pinch her ass, making her squeal and wiggle out of my grasp. I roll out of bed to the sound of her melodic giggle, and then head for my duffel, which I brought up last night. After donning a fresh pair of boxer briefs, I run my fingers through my hair and look back at the bed. Blaine has the sheet pulled up over her chest, and she’s smiling at me—as if she’s proud for having been caught staring.
“You’re so hot. Did you know that?”
I wink at her before starting for the stairs. A few steps down, while she’s still in view, I instruct, “Come keep me company.”
“‘Kay.”
I hear her rustling around, but I don’t wait for her. She’s not the only one who could use the carbs. My grumbling stomach makes that fact quite clear. I’m washing my hands at her kitchen sink when I see her round the bottom of the staircase. Her petite frame is swallowed up in the button-up shirt I wore last night. Even with the sl
eeves rolled to her elbows, she’s practically swimming in the material. It’s cute as hell. Then, as she draws closer, I see that the first three buttons have been left undone, cluing me into the fact that her breasts are still bare. My dick twitches as I watch her finger-comb her messy locks into a small bun on top of her head, and I’m left wondering which I want more—pancakes or Blaine.
Knowing that I can have both, I set about pulling out the necessary ingredients for a batch of pancakes. I’ve had the recipe memorized since I was fourteen, when my mother told me I could have pancakes every weekend, so long as I was the one who made them and I made enough to share. My memory served me well when I was an undergrad, too. Saved me from having to resort to Ramen Noodles on a regular basis.
Blaine perches herself up on one of her stools on the opposite side of the kitchen counter, telling me where to find what I need. Fortunately, she’s fully stocked up on eggs, milk, flour, brown sugar, and honey. She’s a little dubious as to how they’ll turn out, having never had anything other than homemade buttermilk pancakes, but I tell her to trust me. The smile I get when she agrees makes me wish I could make her pancakes every damn Saturday.
It’s not long before we’ve got a healthy stack of flap-jacks piled on each of our plates. Blaine pours us each a small mason jar full of orange juice, and we settle at the dining room table. She moans her delight after taking the first bite, and I don’t hesitate to mutter, “What’d I tell you? You’ve got to trust me.”
“Never again will I doubt you,” she promises around her mouthful, fighting a grin as she chews.
“Good,” I say before stealing a forkful from her plate.
“Hey!” I shrug at her, feigning innocence, and she narrows her eyes at me. I fight my own smile when she doesn’t put up anymore fight. Instead, her carefree expression fades as she dips her next bite in a pool of syrup. Then she murmurs, “This is nice. Really nice. I like waking up with you here.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
She nods, looking down at her plate before she quietly inquires, “When do you have to leave?”
I don’t answer her right away. The truth is, I had only planned on staying one night. Seemed like the prudent thing to do, given the sensitive nature of our circumstances. I don’t want to get sloppy. Then I got up this morning. I won’t pretend that I don’t want another morning just like this one. Confident that I can think of some excuse as to why I won’t make it to church tomorrow, I reach over and tuck a loose strand of hair behind Blaine’s ear as I inform her, “Veronica doesn’t get back into town until tomorrow evening.”
Peeking over at me from beneath her lashes, she doesn’t repeat the question I see in her eyes; and I don’t force her to.
“I’d like to stay,” I assure her. “That is, if you’re free.”
She drops her fork and takes my hand, drawing it away from her ear and pressing it to her chest. “Please stay.”
“It’s settled then.”
Beaming at me, she drops my hand and picks up her fork. Before I have the chance to do the same, she steals a bite of pancake from my plate, giggling as I shake my head.
God, I adore her.
“What do you normally do when you’re by yourself at the mansion?” she asks, mockingly dropping her voice at the end.
Smirking her way, I reply, “Enjoy the quiet. I take my time with the paper, catch up on the news, things of that sort.”
She quirks an eyebrow at me and mutters, “That’s it? That’s how you unwind on your weekend? You immerse yourself in all that’s wrong with the world?”
“It’s so rare that I have a weekend to relax. If I’m not working, Veronica is dragging me to one event or another. You know that.” She nods, having been on the disappointed end of my obligations more than once. “Weekends are also the best times for the family to get together. Even when I do have an evening to kick back, Veronica has a hard time being idle. Closing myself in my office is the best escape—so the news is what I indulge in. If I can, I try and catch a ball game every once in a while. Sometimes I can get away with turning it on in the den, or I’ll go out with some buddies of mine, or my brother, to a bar. Sometimes we’ll snag tickets, too. Being the governor has its perks.”
“All right, well,” she pauses, pushing around her last bite of breakfast. “I don’t have cable. Or a television—so sports are out. I’m also of the generation that doesn’t get the newspaper, but you can use my laptop if you want to scour the Net for stuff. I can read or something while you—”
“Angel, look at me,” I insist, shoving aside my plate.
She does as I’ve requested, and I hold out my hand. When she slips her palm against mine, I grip her fingers and gently tug her toward me. Taking the hint, she stands from her chair as I push my seat away from the table, making room for her. She straddles my lap, and the warmth of her body over my groin immediately makes my cock twitch. Forcing myself to concentrate on our conversation, I close my left hand around the side of her waist and slide my right one around the back of her neck.
“I don’t want to do what I normally do on any given weekend when I find myself alone. I’m not alone.” I lean in and peck her lips before reminding her, “I’m here with you. We can do whatever you want.”
She leans into me a little closer, her fingertips absentmindedly grazing back and forth over my pecs and through my chest hair as she asks, “Even if that means cuddling with me and binge watching Netflix all day?”
“Especially if that means cuddling with you and binge watching Netflix all day—so long as you don’t make me watch something utterly ridiculous. No teen drama. No politics. Oh, and no singing.”
“Who do you think I am?” she asks on a laugh with a confused scowl.
Circling my arms around her, I pull her flush against me. Her breath hitches in her throat as she lifts her hands to hold my face, and I look straight into her hazel eyes as I answer, “Mine.”
“Wow. Good answer,” she breathes.
Unable to ignore the feel of her body on mine a second longer, I reach for a kiss. When I trace my tongue across the seam of her lips, she opens up for me and gives me what I want. She tastes like syrup, sweet pancakes, and home. My hunger for her returns; and as our exchange becomes more heated, I’m absolutely certain of what is quickly becoming a proven fact.
When it comes to Blaine, I’ll never have my fill.
Blaine
I CAN FEEL IT as his dick grows stiff beneath me, and the warmth in my belly stirs my desire. I hold onto his jaw as he works my mouth, loving the feel of his scruffy skin rubbing against the palms of my hands. When he reaches underneath the hem of his shirt and grabs one of my ass cheeks, I moan and rock my hips. I know the thong I threw on is doing little to nothing to prevent my wetness from smearing against the cloth of his underwear, but I don’t care. I want him to feel how wet I am—how wet he makes me—how turned on I get just knowing that he wants me as much as I want him.
“You want to ride me, angel? Hmm?” he mumbles against my lips.
I grind down on him harder, whimpering as I rub my clit against his bulge.
“Up,” he commands, tapping my ass.
Biting my lower lip, I do as he says and stand to my feet before waiting further instructions. When he lifts his hips and simply slides his underwear to his ankles, I’m quick to follow suit. Without a word, I straddle his lap again, this time reaching for his dick. I position him at my entrance, hesitating for a second as I look into his stormy, dark blue eyes.
“Before—before, we didn’t—”
“It’s just you and me, Blaine,” he assures me, taking hold of my hips and gently sitting me on top of him. “No more rubbers.”
I nod, my jaw falling open as I get used to this position. He’s never surrendered complete control to me before, and it’s both unnerving and thrilling all at once. Grabbing hold of his shoulders, I take what I want—what I need. Setting a steady pace, I rock my hips, captivated by the way Michael is looking at me.
I shake the thought away, not wishing to get ahead of myself, and just allow myself to get lost in this moment; in our connection; in the promise of this day and all the hours we get to spend together. It’s not long before I begin to sweat. When I start to peel his shirt off of my body, he’s quick to assist me. Before the fabric even hits the floor, his mouth is wrapped around one of my nipples.
His facial hair scrapes against my soft flesh, and I hold his head to me, enjoying the sensation. While he sucks and licks me, I buck my hips, my movements growing wilder as he helps bring me closer to the brink of my climax. When he shifts his mouth from one nipple to the other, I let my head fall back. I close my eyes and whisper his name, enamored by the way he owns me even when he’s offered me control.
Then I feel his hand graze over my ass before he dips a single finger between my cheeks. I gasp, fisting my fingers in his hair as I thrust my hips forward with as much force as I can muster. All the while, he massages my back entrance with slow, sure circles, and I can barely breathe.
“Michael!” I mewl.
“You like that, hmm? Do you want more?”
“More,” I insist.
I come the moment he teases my hole with the tip of his finger, shuddering even as my body locks up around his. Then, my center still pulsing around his dick, he grabs hold of my thighs and stands to his feet. Planting my ass on the table, he angles his body over mine and begins to pound into me relentlessly. I’m so sensitive that it nearly hurts, but it doesn’t last long. He comes almost right away, filling me with his release as his groan invades the entire loft.
Neither one of us moves a muscle for a minute as we work to catch our breath. The ecstatic high of my orgasm begins to fade, and my brain registers that Michael just fucked me on my dining room table. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, fighting a giggle as I cling to his shoulders.
