Catie
Blane dragged me out of Chantilly, but not before slapping half of a cheesecake on a paper plate. I was certain if he hadn’t had the cake in his hands, he would have thrown me over his shoulder. And I couldn’t say I would have minded.
My hormones were raging and my heart thumping. For the first time in forever, it wasn’t over hand-cut french fries or New York cheesecake. It was because of a man.
“Let’s roll,” he said, his voice all rumbly once we were in the truck with the cake on my lap and his eyes narrowed on the road ahead.
I smiled and caught Blane watching me out of the corner of his eye. We clearly didn’t need any words. Only smiles and dessert innuendo.
A small part of me felt guilty. I wanted to tell him about my project, to clear the air. I felt I owed him that, but we were interrupted. And then he got that look. The sexy-sexy one, and I couldn’t see straight.
I was turning into a trollop.
Scratch that; I actually was one.
Ariel might have been my alter ego, but her existence stood to burn me forever. My hand actually shook at my side, and I slid it under my leg to quiet the tremor.
When we pulled up in front of my building, Blane jumped out and ran around to my door. He opened it before I could even move. Swiping his finger across the top of the cake, he ran some cherry topping over my lips. My tongue darted out to lick it off, and his mouth joined mine.
“I wasn’t sure if I liked cheesecake, but I definitely do. Come on.” He grabbed the cake and my hand.
All thoughts of Ariel flitted from my head as we hurried inside my building. Avoiding the elevator, we took the stairs and ran to the privacy of my apartment.
Blane walked inside calmly, but as soon as he kicked the door closed with one boot and set the cake down, he was a madman. He tossed his leather jacket aside and ripped his shirt over his head, taking his sweatband with it. His hair was a wild mess and he pushed his fingers through it, shoving the thick waves out of his face. Then he kicked his boots off and approached with a determined glimmer in his eyes.
The tattoo with my name on display made my mouth water. I swallowed my lust and breathed faster as he stalked me. Highlights of that first porno we watched with Stanwick flickered in my mind. It was hot, but nowhere near as hot as this.
“Wait a sec, I’m going to get you naked,” Blane said while shoving off his pants, leaving him in nothing but dark green boxer briefs.
“I like your underwear. Way to show your team spirit,” I joked.
“Those are my lucky underwear, I’ll have you know. And right about now, I think they’re extra lucky.”
He pounced on me, cupping my face and kissing me as he walked me backward to the bed and sat me down. It was a seamless transition. I perched on the edge of the bed as Blane pushed my coat off and lifted my shirt, tugging it over my head before he unsnapped my bra. Dropping to his knees, he shimmied down my leggings and slid my boots off. My pants and undies joined our other clothing in a messy heap on the floor.
He crawled back up, kissing a path from my ankle to my knee, stopping to slide next to me on the bed. He took my face in his hands and kissed me with urgency. We kissed like savages, taking each other’s mouths, knocking teeth and bruising our lips. It was nothing like the sex portrayed in pornos. It was pure, unadulterated passion.
“Taste so good,” Blane mumbled. “But it’s gonna be sweeter.”
He stood and motioned one sec, and went to the kitchenette. With the plate of cake in hand, he made his way back to the bed. Grinning, he set it next to me and swiped off a bit with his finger. Then he painted it across my abdomen and proceeded to eat it off, licking and sucking until he reached my bare skin.
Not satisfied, he fed me a small bite off his index finger and I licked it clean. Another piece he smeared around my nipples and took his time eating it off, which drove me insane. My nipples were as hard as his dick when he was done.
I’d never liked dessert this much. The room smelled like cherries, sugar, and impending sex. I pressed my thighs together, soaking wet between them.
Blane found my nub and rubbed me to a quick orgasm, swiping his finger back and forth over my most sensitive spot while fucking me with another few fingers. On a scream, my body fragmented in a million pieces, my senses on overload from the kisses, the food, and the orgasm.
As he reached for his jeans, I whispered, “Wait.”
He stilled, and I knocked him flat on his back. With my right hand, I grabbed some cheesecake and moved down his body to smear it around his navel. I took the tip of my tongue and cleaned him up, and when I was done, I grabbed another piece. This time I painted his inner thigh, taking my time to nip along that sensitive spot between hip and groin while devouring my new most favorite dessert.
When I was done, I wrapped my free hand around him and pumped his length.