I lose my mind, and God, it feels so good. Nothing but heat and pleasure and dark, glittering desire. Blake laps at me, pulling back, teasing me now with infinite soft licks around my clit and lips until I’m writhing, whimpering in his arms. But still, he grips me tightly, pinning me in place, totally at the mercy of his wicked tongue.
I turn my head and moan into a pillow, my whole body strung so tight I could shatter. But Blake stops.
“No,” he growls. “I want to hear you. I want to hear everything. Look at me, Zoey.”
My cheeks burn, but I force myself to lift my head.
He’s poised between my thighs, his broad shoulders rippling with tension; his eyes hot with desire. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, sliding one hand up my thigh. “Don’t hide from this. Don’t you dare.”
And then, before I can look away, before I can brace myself at all, he slides two fingers deep inside me.
Oh. My. God.
I can’t bite back the moan that echoes, loud in the empty apartment. Blake smiles, and curls his fingers up inside me, rubbing high against my walls.
“Blake!” I groan, hurtling to the edge. “Oh God…!”
He bends his head, and then his mouth is on me again. Mouth and tongue and fingers sliding deeper, and holy shit this is incredible, more intense than anything in the world. He laps at me, licking my clit in a relentless rhythm as his fingers slide into me again, stretching me open, so tight, so fucking good.
I clutch the sheets for dear life, my body twisting tighter, the ache curling into a knot of pure liquid need. Blake swirls his tongue over my nub, again and again until the pleasure is too intense and I try to shrink away, but his strong hand pins me to the bed as the other slowly thrusts and God, I can’t take it anymore, it’s too much, too good. “Please, Blake, please—”
He closes his lips around my clit and sucks, and I come apart with a scream. Pleasure slams through me, waves so intense I fall into the bliss of it, as Blake slowly licks me through it, riding each wave until I’m breathless and dizzy in his arms.
13.
Blake
I wake up to the sound of a cellphone ringing. I roll over, groaning. It’s way too early to be awake: it’s still nearly dark outside and my call time for the movie isn’t until noon.
There’s a soft sigh, and then Zoey presses against me, her body warm and soft.
Suddenly, it all comes rushing back. The heat, the frenzy of passion. How goddamn amazing it felt to bring her to the edge, and feel her body break against me.
I carefully sit up. Zoey’s still sleeping beside me, oblivious. She lets out another breathy sound, wriggling under the covers. I gently brush a lock of hair back from her face, trying not to wake her.
She’s beautiful like this. Sure, the glamorous Zoey turns my head every time, gets my blood boiling and my body wound tight. But asleep, naked, there’s an innocence to her, a softness I haven’t seen in a long time. She sighs again, her lips curling into a smile. I wonder what she’s dreaming.
I hope it’s about me.
Shit.
I catch myself mid-thought. This is Zoey. I swore I’d keep her at arm’s length, but she pushed me to the edge—and I hurtled right over it, too caught up in the heat of her body and the sweet sin of her kisses to think twice. Now it’s morning and I’m watching her sleep, so fresh-faced and defenseless, it doesn’t feel so casual anymore.
What the hell have I done?
I quickly scramble out of bed and head to the en-suite bathroom. I turn on the shower and don’t even wait for it to warm up before I dunk my body under the icy jets, trying like hell to blast away the warm feeling cocooning my whole body.
Zoey. Naked. In my bed.
Gasping in pleasure. Moaning my name.
Damn.
I bend my head and let the cold water douse my lust away. But I know it’s not what we did that’s the problem, it’s what came after: holding her tightly and drifting off to sleep together, feeling like she belonged right there in my arms.
Last night, and every night to come.
A man could get used to feeling that way. Like I was safe. Loved.
Home.
But I know feeling that way is just a lie: a way to lull me into a false sense of security, right before the world gets yanked out from under me and everything falls apart. I swore I’d never believe it again, never think for one second that anything good could last.
Lying there with Zoey, I felt a peace like I haven’t known in years. Something deeper than the surface contentment I’ve been skating along with all this time. Something realer, something true.
So what the hell do I do now?
I shut off the water and towel off. I have no idea how to get myself out of this one. The girls I usually hook up with are quick to take the hint: I tell her I’ve got an early session at the gym and kiss her on the cheek on her way out the door.
I’ve never wanted to slide back under the covers and wrap myself around her warm, sleeping body. Lie there together, just talking and laughing as the sun rises outside the windows. But with Zoey still sleeping in the next room, it suddenly sounds like the best plan in the world.
And the worst, all rolled into one.
I fight to keep from striding out into that bedroom and diving straight into her arms. Remember the reasons you stayed away from her in the first place, my voice of reason demands.
Because she deserves more than you can give her. Because you’d only fuck this up and hurt her—and then there’d be no escape.
The thought puts out the fire the way a cold shower didn’t even come close. She’s already a part of my family; there would be no quick fade out, no ignoring her calls and avoiding her at parties. No, Zoey is a fixture in all our lives. She’ll be right there at the table come Christmas; out by the pool for the barbecue on the Fourth of July. Her parents haven’t given a crap about her in years, and I know that Tegan and me and Ash and Dex are as close to family as she’s got.
I turn my head and moan into a pillow, my whole body strung so tight I could shatter. But Blake stops.
“No,” he growls. “I want to hear you. I want to hear everything. Look at me, Zoey.”
My cheeks burn, but I force myself to lift my head.
He’s poised between my thighs, his broad shoulders rippling with tension; his eyes hot with desire. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, sliding one hand up my thigh. “Don’t hide from this. Don’t you dare.”
And then, before I can look away, before I can brace myself at all, he slides two fingers deep inside me.
Oh. My. God.
I can’t bite back the moan that echoes, loud in the empty apartment. Blake smiles, and curls his fingers up inside me, rubbing high against my walls.
“Blake!” I groan, hurtling to the edge. “Oh God…!”
He bends his head, and then his mouth is on me again. Mouth and tongue and fingers sliding deeper, and holy shit this is incredible, more intense than anything in the world. He laps at me, licking my clit in a relentless rhythm as his fingers slide into me again, stretching me open, so tight, so fucking good.
I clutch the sheets for dear life, my body twisting tighter, the ache curling into a knot of pure liquid need. Blake swirls his tongue over my nub, again and again until the pleasure is too intense and I try to shrink away, but his strong hand pins me to the bed as the other slowly thrusts and God, I can’t take it anymore, it’s too much, too good. “Please, Blake, please—”
He closes his lips around my clit and sucks, and I come apart with a scream. Pleasure slams through me, waves so intense I fall into the bliss of it, as Blake slowly licks me through it, riding each wave until I’m breathless and dizzy in his arms.
13.
Blake
I wake up to the sound of a cellphone ringing. I roll over, groaning. It’s way too early to be awake: it’s still nearly dark outside and my call time for the movie isn’t until noon.
There’s a soft sigh, and then Zoey presses against me, her body warm and soft.
Suddenly, it all comes rushing back. The heat, the frenzy of passion. How goddamn amazing it felt to bring her to the edge, and feel her body break against me.
I carefully sit up. Zoey’s still sleeping beside me, oblivious. She lets out another breathy sound, wriggling under the covers. I gently brush a lock of hair back from her face, trying not to wake her.
She’s beautiful like this. Sure, the glamorous Zoey turns my head every time, gets my blood boiling and my body wound tight. But asleep, naked, there’s an innocence to her, a softness I haven’t seen in a long time. She sighs again, her lips curling into a smile. I wonder what she’s dreaming.
I hope it’s about me.
Shit.
I catch myself mid-thought. This is Zoey. I swore I’d keep her at arm’s length, but she pushed me to the edge—and I hurtled right over it, too caught up in the heat of her body and the sweet sin of her kisses to think twice. Now it’s morning and I’m watching her sleep, so fresh-faced and defenseless, it doesn’t feel so casual anymore.
What the hell have I done?
I quickly scramble out of bed and head to the en-suite bathroom. I turn on the shower and don’t even wait for it to warm up before I dunk my body under the icy jets, trying like hell to blast away the warm feeling cocooning my whole body.
Zoey. Naked. In my bed.
Gasping in pleasure. Moaning my name.
Damn.
I bend my head and let the cold water douse my lust away. But I know it’s not what we did that’s the problem, it’s what came after: holding her tightly and drifting off to sleep together, feeling like she belonged right there in my arms.
Last night, and every night to come.
A man could get used to feeling that way. Like I was safe. Loved.
Home.
But I know feeling that way is just a lie: a way to lull me into a false sense of security, right before the world gets yanked out from under me and everything falls apart. I swore I’d never believe it again, never think for one second that anything good could last.
Lying there with Zoey, I felt a peace like I haven’t known in years. Something deeper than the surface contentment I’ve been skating along with all this time. Something realer, something true.
So what the hell do I do now?
I shut off the water and towel off. I have no idea how to get myself out of this one. The girls I usually hook up with are quick to take the hint: I tell her I’ve got an early session at the gym and kiss her on the cheek on her way out the door.
I’ve never wanted to slide back under the covers and wrap myself around her warm, sleeping body. Lie there together, just talking and laughing as the sun rises outside the windows. But with Zoey still sleeping in the next room, it suddenly sounds like the best plan in the world.
And the worst, all rolled into one.
I fight to keep from striding out into that bedroom and diving straight into her arms. Remember the reasons you stayed away from her in the first place, my voice of reason demands.
Because she deserves more than you can give her. Because you’d only fuck this up and hurt her—and then there’d be no escape.
The thought puts out the fire the way a cold shower didn’t even come close. She’s already a part of my family; there would be no quick fade out, no ignoring her calls and avoiding her at parties. No, Zoey is a fixture in all our lives. She’ll be right there at the table come Christmas; out by the pool for the barbecue on the Fourth of July. Her parents haven’t given a crap about her in years, and I know that Tegan and me and Ash and Dex are as close to family as she’s got.
