by Grace James
“I’m not your ex.”
“No?”
“…no…”
“Then what? We still together?”
I shook my head. “You just love watching me squirm, don’t you?”
“You only just figured that out?”
“God, sometimes you remind me –” I stopped myself before I finished that sentence, making a big show of clearing my throat to cover up my false start. I was horrified that I’d almost said, Sometimes you remind me so much of Connor. But he did. I mean, they were cousins and they’d been close, of course there would be similarities even all this time later. And making me uncomfortable? They’d both loved doing that.
The look on Blake’s face was tense. I was almost positive he knew where I’d been leading with that statement, and I was one hundred percent positive he didn’t want to go there.
“Do – um – do you really think of me as your ex?” I asked quickly, mainly to steer the subject away from Connor, but also because I was curious.
He inhaled deeply and swung his legs of the bed so that he was sitting on the edge. He regarded me thoughtfully for a moment. “Honestly? I don’t know. I guess that’s the closest way to describe it, right? Why? What do you think we are?”
Unfinished business.
Really, really DANGEROUS unfinished business.
I bit my lip and shrugged. “Two people who annoy the crap out of each other?”
“But wanna fuck each other into a coma anyway?”
I couldn’t hold back a startled laugh. “Yeah, maybe in those hallucinations you keep having.”
He chuckled and got to his feet, looking at me with a mix of amusement and…maybe tenderness? “I really missed this – the way we talk, the way we get along.”
“You think this is us getting along?!”
“You know it is,” he said, his voice suddenly soft as he brought one hand up to rub the side of his neck. “I don’t think I ever said this at the time, but you were one of my best friends, y’know? Before all the shit that went down back then?” He shrugged slightly and dropped his hand back to his side. “Guess what I’m trying to say is that, all other stuff aside, I missed my friend.”
“Me too,” I admitted, surprising even myself. “There have been so many times when I’ve –” I caught myself and stopped.
“What?” he pressed.
Would it really be so bad to just say it?
“I…I was going to say that there were so many times when I would hear a song, or read something in a book, or just think a random thought and just know that you’d get it. Sometimes I even picked up my phone to send you a message before I remembered that, well…”
“That I left,” he finished for me, his voice heavy.
“…yeah.”
He nodded wordlessly. The tension started to thicken around us again. Wanting to escape it, I turned away and put my hairbrush down on my dresser.
When I heard the tread of his boots on the floor getting further away, followed by the bathroom door clicking shut, I let out a long breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
24
Blake washed up quickly and when he came out of the bathroom again he was back to kidding around.
We drove to The Academy and we weren’t there more than two minutes before the delivery arrived. Blake immediately took over moving the heavy stuff – the kegs and the crates of bottles – into place in the cellar, while I restocked the fridges behind the bar.
The two energy drinks I guzzled while I was working helped me shake off the rest of my hangover, and by the time I was finally done I felt almost normal, albeit a little tired. I tossed the empty cans in the trash before I dusted off my hands and headed through the door behind the bar, which lead to the cellar below.
As soon as I hit the top of the steps I heard the sound of metal scraping on concrete. Blake was still working down there.
When I was half way down the staircase, I stopped in my tracks.
He’d taken off his shirt and his jeans were hanging low on his hips; the fine sheen of sweat on his upper body highlighted every single one of his solid muscles. And the tattoos. God. When I knew him before, his arms, shoulders and chest were covered with them, but since then he’d added new ink. I’d already seen the birds on his neck, and I knew from pictures I’d seen of him that most of his torso was now covered – but I’d never allowed myself to look too closely.
Now I did.
One tat in particular caught my eye – a large one on the lower left side of his back. It was the shaded form of a woman set against the backdrop of a huge full moon, dappled with wisps of cloud. Her face was hidden as she stared off at the moon with her long hair cascading around her shoulders.
It was beautiful.
He was beautiful.
It took me a couple of seconds of just standing there, silently watching him, before I pulled it together enough to put my game face on. I needed a game face because – call me sadistic and you’d be right – I just couldn’t resist messing with him…
“Oh, damn,” I said on a sigh as my foot hit the final step. “Blake, you’re not going to believe this, but I was right the first time, those kegs do go over there –” I pointed to the far wall of the cellar “– not on this side.”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” he panted, shoving a hand through his dark hair as he turned to face me.
“No, I’m really sorry.” I made my eyes go big, hoping they looked regretful. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I moved them twice already.”
I schooled my expression, trying not to break into a grin. “Are you too tired to do it? You want me to help?” I asked sympathetically.
“No,” he grunted, turning his back on me and starting to move the kegs again.
Ha! Men and their egos.
I bit my lips together to stop myself from snickering as I hopped up on to a large crate. I watched Blake maneuver the first couple of kegs across the cellar, my eyes lingering on the way his biceps bunched and rippled as he worked. “Wait,” I sighed dramatically after a few minutes. “I don’t know, maybe it is better to have them over here.”
He stopped what he was doing and braced both hands on either side of the keg he was moving. “You’re fucking with me.”
“What? Nooo, just wondering out loud.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Forget it, keep doing what you’re doing.”
Chuckling, he bowed his head and shook it.
“What’s wrong?” I asked innocently.
“Ah, man, I knew you were fucking with me.” He looked back up at me. “You’re pure evil.”
“Hey, you wanted to help out.”
He pushed off the keg and stood up straight. “Where do these kegs really go, Princess?”
I scrunched up my nose and pretended to think. “I just can’t remember. How about you put them all back over there –” I pointed across the room to the wall again “– and I’ll tell you if it looks right.”
He barked a laugh. “No way!”
“Aw, I thought you could still handle real work,” I goaded.
Pointing a finger at me, he said, “That’s not gonna work again. Where do they really go?”
I laughed and scrunched up my eyes. “Um…”
Blake closed the space between us in a few strides and planted his hands on the crate either side of my thighs, bending his head so it was level with mine. “Tell me where they go, Princess,” he growled – but his lips were tugging up into a grin.
God.
He was so close, his face only inches from mine, his blue eyes flashing with humor. He was close enough that if I just leaned forwards a little bit, my lips would be on his. I had to bite my lip to keep from openly gasping as the thought of kissing him sent an electric pulse of excitement through my body.
He must have felt something too, because he blinked once – and then his eyes dropped to my mouth.
For a second, neither of us moved. We were frozen…
T
hen his lips crashed into mine.
25
Both of Blake’s hands were on my face a millisecond later, cupping my cheeks possessively. My gasp parted my lips and his tongue thrust into my mouth, tangling with my own, igniting me from the inside out.
He tasted exactly as I remembered.
Sin, sex, and animal masculinity.
I had dreamt of him so many times, and in every one of them he’d tasted like that. The memory of him was imprinted in my mind and the real-life version matched up – exceeded it even – because he was real, and in front of me, and finally here again.
I almost let go and let him kiss me.
I almost gave in and wrapped my arms around him.
But then I remembered how much he’d hurt me.
“Blake…” my voice was muffled by his lips. I wrenched my head to the side, grabbing his wrists and trying to pull his hands away from my face. “Stop, wait!”
He only resisted for a moment before he complied, pulling his head back and dropping his hands back to the crate. But he didn’t step away; his eyes searched mine as our gasping breath mingled between us. “Talk to me, Princess,” he ordered.
“I…we can’t do this…”
“You want to.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. A fact.
“No, I don’t,” I snapped. “You can’t just waltz back in to my life and kiss me!”
“Why not? You like kissing me.” He grinned like it was all some big joke. “You want to kiss me.”
His arrogance pissed me off, but the fact that he was right made me furious.
I shoved myself forwards off of the crate, leaving him no choice but to back up and let me stand – which he did, but he didn’t go far, he was still in my personal space as I stood as tall as I could and looked him in the eye. “Where do you get off telling me what I want? You have no idea what I want! You don’t get to come back here and act like you still know me!”
His face darkened. “Act like I know you?” he hissed. “Fucking act? I do know you, Princess. I know every fucking inch of you – and I know that look on your face right now –”
“Oh, please, what look?” I scoffed.
“The fuck me look.”
Heat crawled up my neck like a brand. “I am not looking at you like I want to fuck you!”
“Oh, baby.” He shook his head mockingly. “You look at me like you’re desperate for my cock inside you.”
My cheeks tingled and burned; my blood was boiling; my veins scorched with unwelcome lust. I glared at him as my mouth worked over time, trying to come up with a response, “You – you –”
“What? You know I’m right.”
“I do NOT look at you that way!”
“Yeah, you fucking do,” he said bluntly. “Why can’t you just admit it?”
“You arrogant asshole! I don’t want to sleep with you, I don’t want you AT ALL –”
“Liar,” he accused. His voice was low, flat, angry, and full of absolute certainty as he loomed over me, completely encompassing me. He was all I could see, all I could smell, all I could feel. He was seeping into my pores. “Can’t you ever just be straight with me? Can’t you ever just lay it on the line and be fucking honest?”
I threw my hands in the air in frustration. “What’s the point, Blake?! It’s not going to change anyth–”
“WE’RE THE FUCKING POINT!” he roared; the muscles in his shoulders bunching and the sinews standing out on his neck.
For a split second, a spike of fear shot through me, and then – and I know it’s really messed up and completely un-feminist to admit this – I was turned on. I think part of it was to do with the fact that after thinking he didn’t care about me for so many years it was now becoming really obvious that he did care.
A lot, apparently.
Enough to lose it a little.
He scowled down at me as he continued, “You can deny it all you want, Princess, but I see the truth in your eyes.” His face was inches away from mine; I could feel his scorching breath on my lips. “You want this. You want me to pound my dick into your tight little pussy ‘til you cream all over me.”
SLAP.
My palm connected with Blake’s face so hard it made my whole hand tingle. It happened before I even realized what I’d done. He flinched at the last moment, but he didn’t move or dodge. I’m not a hundred percent sure whether that was intentional – whether he let me slap him – or whether he just didn’t have time to react.
But for some reason, if I had to bet on it, I’d go with the first option.
For a long moment, I stared at him, unsure what to think or do. I was ashamed of lashing out that way, but a part of me was also like, Take THAT you asshat!
Blake stared right back at me, his eyes hard and angry – then our lips collided again like a freight train hitting a wall.
I don’t even know who made the first move. Maybe it was both of us.
Within half a second, his hands were under my ass and my legs were wrapped around his waist; my arms were bound around his neck so tight it was a wonder he could breathe.
My ass hit the hard surface of the crate a moment later and his hands were clutching at my boobs, squeezing them through my clothing. I released his neck and scored my nails down the length of his spine, enjoying the hiss of his pain against my lips as my nails dug tracks in his skin.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna feel me for a month,” he snarled.
My womb dipped. “Big talk,” I challenged, scornfully.
That was like a red rag to a bull. His eyes glinted dangerously as his hands landed on the fly of my jeans, yanking them open roughly, before tugging them down my legs. When he reached my Toms, he yanked them off my feet and tossed them away, followed by my jeans.
Then Blake grabbed my panties, pulling them apart with one sharp jerk so that they hung useless around my right leg. My tank top hit the floor next, before he grabbed my bra and just tore it from me. He didn’t even attempt to unclasp it – just ripped it free and slung it away.
Then I was completely exposed to him.
His hand was between my legs instantly. “You’re fucking soaking, Princess. That’s how much you don’t want me, huh?” He slid two fingers through my folds to thrust inside me without preamble.
I gasped at the delicious intrusion and dug my nails even harder into his back.
He fumbled with his belt and button fly with one hand, before pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down just enough for his thick erection to spring forwards.
Oh, my God…
His cock was just as big and gorgeous as I remembered – the tip slick with need, the shaft angry and pulsing.
The sight of him so ready sent vibrations through my core. I knew that his fingers, buried inside me, were instantly flooded as another rush of moisture pooled at my center. My nipples hardened like diamond-encrusted nubs, aching to be touched.
Quickly, I moved one hand down to wrap around his cock, pumping him, squeezing a little too hard, a little too punishingly, making him grunt into my mouth as he nipped my bottom lip between his teeth in response.
He grabbed my breasts, tweaking and tugging at my nipples with one hand as he simultaneously pumped his fingers inside me with the other. I arched into him and moaned desperately, clawing at his shoulder with one hand, holding us together as we groped and kissed and nipped at one another.
Suddenly, he pulled his hands away and moved back a little to retrieve a condom from his jeans pocket. He used his teeth to tear it open and he was sheathed in seconds; then he fisted his cock and pressed the thick head to my entrance. His other hand went behind my head and he gathered my hair in his fist, holding me firmly, at the edge of pain.
His eyes bored into mine. “Tell me you want me.”
I bit my lip, fighting his dominance just to prove that I could. But the truth was he’d already completely taken over my body, and the voice of reason in my mind was being drowned out by the rushing, roaring need coursing throu
gh me.
A need that only Blake could satisfy.
His grip on my hair tightened and he stroked his cock up and down my soaking lips, skimming over my swollen clit. “Tell me,” he demanded.
When I didn’t speak, he used his hold on my hair to pull my head back, forcing me to arch my body towards him. I whimpered as he curled over me and took one of my desperate nipples into his mouth, sucking hard and strumming it with his tongue, sending shockwaves down my stomach to fuel the fire between my legs.
“Okay!” I gasped. “I want you!”
He released my nipple and straightened up, his eyes boring into mine. “Again. Say it like you fucking mean it.”
I hesitated for a second – then his cock rolled over my clit again, making my slick inner walls clench around nothing. I moaned and pressed my palms against his back, trying to urge him forward.
But he wouldn’t budge. “Not until you tell me, Princess.”
“You bastard,” I half-snapped, half-moaned.
He chuckled darkly and moved his cock to my entrance, pushing forwards just enough to begin to stretch me. But it wasn’t enough – nowhere near – and he knew it.
I caved. “You know I want you! Just do it already! Please!”
The smirk he shot me was so smug I wanted to punch him. But then he pushed forward again, and there was only a moment of resistance before he slammed inside me to the hilt.
I shrieked.
The feeling of being so completely full was so intense, so consuming, that for a moment my whole body went rigid. Since Blake – the first time around – I’d had other lovers. None of them were really what I’d class as ‘below average’ in the cock department – but Blake still surpassed them all by several inches. And he was thick. Even bigger than I remembered. I felt like he was touching every part of me, invading every inch.
“You can take me, baby,” he growled. “You were fuckin’ made to take my cock.” He held me tight, his eyes on mine as he started to rock slowly back and forth. His movements were perfectly controlled. Calculated. Careful.
But although his pace was almost gentle, his hold on me definitely wasn’t. One hand was still tangled in my hair; the other gripped my hip so tightly I knew he’d probably leave marks.
