Blake: A Bad Boy Romance

by Day, Laura

  He carried her to the bedroom and stood her in the center of the room. He knelt in front of her and he began to pull her panties down her legs. Ivy shuddered at his touch on her very delicate skin. She felt exposed, standing naked like that in the middle of the room. But then Blake lifted her one leg over his shoulder and she could feel his warm breath against her.

  She grabbed onto his head for stability as his tongue slipped into her wet center. She shuddered and dug her hands into his hair as his tongue worked in circles over her clit. He was patient and slow as his hands gripped her thighs and held Ivy in place. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his rough hands caressing the sensitive skin of her thighs.

  In just a few seconds she was right on the edge of orgasm. She was struggling to keep her balance as Blake’s tongue made her legs weak. She arched her back towards him, desperate for his tongue to never stop what it was doing as he licked and sucked on her clit. Her skin was vibrating with energy, she wanted to finish and at the same time she wanted him to never ever stop.

  “Blake, I’m so close,” Ivy said, throwing her head back.

  And then he stopped. She cried out in frustration and he just smiled and took her roughly by the hands. He led her to the dresser and bent her over it. He kicked her legs a shoulder’s width apart and she heard him slip on a condom. “Are you close?” he whispered into her ear as he began to kiss her neck.

  “Yes, so close,” she murmured.

  “Good,” he said, taking his position behind her. “Don’t move your hands from where I put them.”

  Her hands were flat on the dresser in front of her and she gasped as Blake entered her with one swift motion. She cried out as her body stretched to accommodate him. He put his hand on her lower back and she lowered herself until his cock slid easily in and out of her.

  “Fuck, Ivy. You feel so good,” he said as he continued to thrust in and out of her. His cock was gently stroking her clit with every movement.

  But it was a teasing and light tough and Ivy wanted more. She wanted Blake’s fingers inside of her, stirring her on. That’s when she understood Blake’s order to keep her hands on the dresser.

  Her pleasure was building up slowly as his strokes went deeper inside of her. “Yes!” She cried out throwing her head back as she pushed against him, matching him thrust for thrust. She wanted him. She was desperate to come. Her body was screaming at her to touch herself, but she kept her hands where they were. She trusted Blake.

  It was like a wave growing bigger and bigger inside of herself. She passed some invisible barrier and then she couldn’t stop herself; she needed to come; she needed that release.

  Blake’s hands were on her hips, urging her to take more of his cock with every push back against him.

  “Yes, Blake! Don’t stop. Please don't stop. That feels so good.” He sped up and she cried out loudly as his body rammed into hers.

  His cock was grazing her clit and she was grinding against him and then that wave inside of her grew too big and with one final thrust it crashed on top of her and she screamed out his name as she rode him to completion. He moaned her name into her ear and pulled her back hard against her for a few final thrusts and then, they both leaned heavily against the dresser, drained and exhausted.

  Chapter Twenty

  He hated seeing her leave for work. She dressed quietly, her movements slow and careful as she moved around his bedroom. Their bedroom? There was nothing stopping him from calling it that. Ivy slipped so seamlessly into his life. It was like there was a slot open and waiting for her to fit into. It felt like his life had been a half-finished painting and Ivy had come to fill in and darken the lines and brighten the colors of his life.

  She was fully dressed in a black pencil skirt and a white blouse. Her long hair flowed around her shoulders. She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned down to kiss him gently.

  “I have to go,” she whispered.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, raising his hand and caressing her cheek. She closed the door and walked out into the hallway. He heard the clicking of her heels against his hardwood floors as she gathered her things. Blake closed his eyes hoping to get a little bit more sleep before his training began.

  He heard the front door open and close again. Ivy was still in the apartment. Her heels were clicking towards him on the floor. As she entered the bedroom Blake sat up and ran his hand through his hair. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice still rough from sleep.

  “There’s...” she started, but then her voice wavered and she stuttered as if she didn’t know what to say. Her left hand pointed to the door, while her right hand nervously tugged at the hem of her shirt.

  “What?” Blake asked jumping out of bed. He was at her side in a second, his hand on the small of her back. She was shaking, and he could see that she was barely holding back tears.

  “The door,” she said with a shake of her head.

  Blake walked towards the door. He prayed Darryl was there – Darryl the coward who hid behind mutilated stuffed animals and creepy voicemails. What would Darryl do when he was confronted by a real man, a man who knew how to fight and win? Poor little rich boy, he would be begging for mercy after the first hit.

  The door was closed and Blake looked into the peephole to make sure the hallway was clear before he opened the door. His door was painted a pale yellow; it matched all the others in the building. But it didn’t match any more. Blake stepped back to take the whole thing in.

  Words were scrawled across the door in bright red paint. It started up top, the words clear and the handwriting almost neat.

  She always told me she hated card games.

  I hate games

  I hate you

  I hate her more

  Open the door.

  Can’t you hear me

  Don’t you know I’m out here

  The handwriting became messier and sloppy as his eyes descended down the door. He could barely make out the words at the bottom. But in addition to the words written in some sort of order down the door there was other graffiti. These words ran around the edges of the door occasionally overlapping with the red letters.

  Bitch, whore, useless, cunt, stupid.

  It was like his door was some violent piece of misogynistic artwork. Blake looked up and down the empty hallway, but no one was there. It was just doors. Seemingly endless doors that could be hiding anyone. He wondered how many of his neighbors had seen this horrific masterpiece.

  “Yes, I need an officer at 1441 Fairmount Drive, apartment 16A,” Ivy was talking to her cellphone. She had slipped out of her shoes and was now pacing the apartment barefoot as she placed the call with 911. She was running her hands through her hair, tugging on it, pulling at it in her desperations. “The police are on their way,” she said to him and Blake nodded in response.

  Blake took a step back inside and slammed the door closed. He walked over to his closet and quickly opened the cabinet that held his gun. He had a license to carry it and he went to the range at least once a month. If Darryl wanted things to get scary, Blake could oblige him. He slipped the loaded gun, with its safety on, into a holster that went under his arm.

  “What are you doing?” Ivy answered as Blake walked back out into the living room, pulling on a jacket to cover his gun.

  “I’m allowed to have it, Ivy,” he said walking past her and opening the door again. But the hallway was still empty. He waited for a moment hoping Darryl was going to try and come back, but the hallway remained frustratingly empty.

  “Blake, statistically you’re more likely to injure yourself or a friend than an intruder,” Ivy said.

  “Those statistics include people who don’t know how to use a gun. I know how to use mine. Trust me, it’ll be much more dangerous for Darryl than for me.”

  “Your neighbors are going to see the door. I’m so sorry,” Ivy said and Blake heard the hitch in her voice as she spoke. He looked over at her, standing alone in the center of the living room. S
he was wringing her hands as a tear spilled over her right eye. He closed and locked the door and walked over to her.

  Blake pulled her into a deep hug as a sob wracked through her body. He rubbed her back and held her as she tried to get her tears under control. “You don’t ever have to apologize,” he whispered into her ear. “None of this is your fault.”

  “Police! We received the call.”

  Ivy jumped up at the sudden sound of the loud knock on the door. Blake caressed her arms and then walked over to the door and opened it, seeing two plainclothes police officers. One was a tall woman with curly dark hair and the other a slightly shorter man with glasses.

  “I’m Detective Diaz; this is detective Miller. We’re here about the call.”

  “Thanks for coming, Maria,” Ivy said as she walked over to the doorway and gave a weak smile at the detectives.

  “Writing on the door is a new thing for him,” Maria said shaking her head as her partner pulled out a camera and began snapping pictures of the dark and dangerous notes.

  “He could hear us,” Blake growled, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “We were playing a card game last night; he must have been standing at the door listening to us.” He felt disgust pour through his veins. He wanted to meet this creep who hung around outside of doors listening to how normal people spent the night.

  Always, he was looking at Ivy. The need to protect her was paramount. She was so sweet and kind and generous and she didn’t deserve this. That wasn’t all that he was worried about, though. Blake was a professional fighter; sizing up people was part of his job. He would never say it to her, but she was so small and weak. She wouldn’t last more than a few seconds in a fight with a fully grown man. She could so easily be overpowered and kidnapped or hurt or worse.

  Detective Miller pulled out a fingerprint kit and began to dust the door, letting a soft powdery layer of dust land on the paint-soaked door. He quickly began to dust and pull up the prints. “Most of these will be yours,” Miller explained, “but we’ll search for any that don’t match.”

  “He always wears gloves,” Ivy said shaking her head. “We’ve done this before.”

  “He might have gotten lazy,” Maria said. “This is the only way we’ll catch him, Ivy. We need to investigate and log everything that happens to you. I know it looks like nothing. But we’re building a case. I’ll find Darryl and question him, find out if his alibi holds up.”

  Ivy looked at Detective Diaz. She had dark eyes and looked serious. For a moment their eyes met and he could tell they had the same goal. They both wanted to bring Darryl down. But how were they going to do it? How could they get someone who was always one step ahead of them? Blake glanced back at Ivy in the living room. How was he going to keep her safe?

  The police left and Blake called the super who agreed to paint over the deranged words right away. Blake took a few pictures of the words for his own record. As the pictures snapped, he felt his rage building up inside of him. He was frustrated and angry and he had no outlet for it.

  “What are you doing?” Blake asked.

  Ivy had redone her hair and her makeup. To the average observer, she looked perfectly composed as if nothing had happened, but Blake knew her better than that. Her eyes were tinged red and her hands were still shaking slightly.

  “I’m going to work,” Ivy answered as she picked up her briefcase.

  “After everything that’s happened?” Blake asked incredulously. “How can you just go to work?”

  “I have to,” she said with a shrug. “I can’t stop my life every time he does something like this. I have to live my life. I have to leave the house and go to work and try to ignore him as best I can.”

  “You’re going to ignore this?” Blake demanded pointing at the door. “He was spying on us last night. He was right outside the door! What if you had tried to go somewhere, what if you had left the apartment and run into him? He could have hurt you or taken you. He knows where we are.”

  “He’s just messing with me. He just wants to get a reaction. We need to ignore him and go about our day as best we can-”

  “Ivy,” Blake interrupted, but she wouldn’t be stopped and she continued speaking over him.

  “So just stop, Blake. Please. I don’t want to get all upset right now. I don’t want to spend the entire day hiding in this apartment and crying. Can’t you understand that?”

  “Yeah,” Blake said. Nodding, forcing himself to calm down. He did understand what she was saying, but she didn’t understand how vulnerable she was. That was the problem. How did she not see it? He needed to keep her safe. He couldn’t protect her if she wasn’t with him. How was he supposed to just let her walk out that door when danger lurked in every corner?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I’m safe at work,” Ivy said, giving Blake a kiss on the cheek. “They have cameras everywhere, and the office will be full today. He won’t mess with me there.”

  “You’ll go straight there and back?” Blake asked.

  Ivy sighed, having already answered this question three times. She knew Blake was stalling and trying to keep her a little longer. But she wanted to go to work. She had clients she needed to talk to; she had taken a lot of time off already and didn’t want to fall further behind. She wasn’t going to let Darryl stop her from her doing her job. “Yes, straight there and straight back. I won’t pick up any creepy hitchhikers and I won’t go exploring any abandoned houses in the dark,” Ivy said rolling her eyes. “I’ll be safe, don’t worry.”

  She left him behind. She refused to be afraid. She walked confidently down the hallway and stepped into the empty elevator. She was determined to forget about Darryl. She checked her car quickly and then drove to work. Her bright and cheery office filled with people cheered her up considerably.

  She stopped for coffee and a yogurt in the break room. She stopped to talk to Cindy the receptionist about a new club that had opened in town. She felt normal, all the fear from the morning had dissipated.

  There was only one small moment that gave her pause. She thought she saw Darryl. When she had been talking to Cindy, she had seen a man lurking in the parking lot. He was wearing a tan trench coat with a scarf drawn up to his nose. He was far away and she could only see the top of his head, but it looked just like him. She could see his aquiline profile, his long thin nose and his pale skin and hair. Ivy took a step closer, but he turned and walked down the street.

  She was sitting down to work when she realized she had forgotten the Johnston file at home. It was on a secured flash drive that was sitting in the pocket of her lighter coat. It had been cold this morning and in all the chaos she had forgotten to transfer the contents of her pockets.

  “Hey, are you still at home?” Ivy asked into the phone.

  “Yes, are you all right? Is everything okay?” Blake asked.

  “Everything’s fine,” Ivy answered, smiling to herself. It was nice to have Blake looking out for her. Even when he was far away he still made her feel safe. “I just left some files I need at your place. They’re on a flash drive in my coat pocket. I have clients coming in about a half an hour. Is there any way you could bring it to me on your way to the gym?”

  “Yes, definitely,” Blake answered. “I’m leaving now. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

  “Thanks,” Ivy said. She hung up the phone and looked around at her pristine office. She felt so comfortable and happy here. She had decorated it herself, trying to find that perfect mix between personal and professional. She had worked so hard both in school and internships and she was finally reaping the rewards.

  If only Darryl would leave her alone, then everything would finally be perfect. She could see a tantalizing glimpse of her future: her and Blake together, living in Seattle, going to fancy dinners and walks in the park. She was so close to having everything. Of course in that fantasy her father was happily married to someone other than Blake’s mom. She still wasn’t sure how she was going to deal with the whole stepbrother t
hing.

  “Ivy, there’s a Mr. Felton here to see you. He says he just has a quick question about his portfolio.”

  Rick Felton was one of her oldest clients. She didn’t have an appointment with him, but it wasn't too strange for a client to just walk in. “Sure, send him back,” Ivy said into the phone. She pulled up his file and straightened her desk while she waited.

  But it wasn’t Rick. It was Darryl. Ivy’s stomach dropped and everything seemed to slow down as Darryl approached the glass doors of her office. He was wearing a trench coat and scarf and a horrible smirk. It had been him in the parking lot. She shouldn’t have ignored her instincts. Now he was here, in her office. His eyes fell on hers and her blood ran cold. She was frozen in her seat and unable to move. She couldn’t believe he was actually here. It was like seeing a demon in the daylight; she almost couldn't believe it.