I hate—
No, I don’t. I love it. I love every damn thing he’s doing to me. Every flick of the tongue against my clit. Every growled noise that leaves his throat as he wraps his lips around that swollen bud and sucks. But there’s no release. No cure for the knot of tension coiling low in my belly.
“I need to come,” I almost wail.
His laughter vibrates between my legs, male and husky and smug as fuck. Then he works his tongue over me again while his finger travels lower, dips into my embarrassingly obvious arousal and slips inside me.
That’s all it takes to detonate the pressure in my core. I gasp as the orgasm rips through me, pulsing in my blood and making my knees shake. My fist tightens in Blake’s hair as I rock my hips and ride out the wave of sensation.
When I finally grow limp, Blake raises his head and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I love kissing you,” he says solemnly.
I’m too sated and mindless to reply, but somewhere in the haze of pleasure still fogging up my brain, I’m pretty sure I want to punch him.
7 Like a Rock
Jess
No matter what crazy things happened between Blake and I a couple of hours ago, there’s no rest for the wicked.
The party is winding down around me. Jamie and Wes have already turned in—at midnight a limo took them to our family home so they could get some sleep (or alone-time) before their honeymoon. Meanwhile, I’m starting the cleanup process. While the caterers and rental company will do most of the heavy lifting, there are centerpieces to save and borrowed items to collect and return. There are DJs to tip and taxis to call.
I’m way too busy to think about Blake or to scan the crowd for his big head. And I’m way too busy to wonder what’s going to happen later tonight in my bed…
“Jess, can I see you for a moment?”
The chair I’d been folding clatters to the ground in my haste to face my mom. “Um, sure?” Do I look guilty? Mom is the most intuitive woman in the world. Can she tell I recently had my bush patrolled by the best man?
But she just smiles and offers me one of the bite-sized lemon cookies on the little plate she’s been passing around. “I have a little favor to ask. Would you mind taking your brother and Wes to the airport at five in the morning? I thought I could manage it, but it will be two o’clock before we leave here, and your grandmother expects a hot breakfast when she gets up at six-thirty. I can’t handle her in a zombie-like state.”
“Sure,” I say quickly, leaning down to yank the chair upright again. God, I hope there isn’t a wet spot on the back of my dress. “I’ll do it.”
Mom puts a hand on my shoulder. “I really appreciate it. You’ve been like a rock through all of this. Anyone who hires you to plan their big day is getting a bargain at any price.”
I actually flinch when she says that. Planning a stranger’s wedding would be easier, but I still have no urge to do it again.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?” my mother asks, missing nothing.
Maybe it’s the champagne, but the truth comes spilling out. “Planning weddings isn’t really my thing.”
Her response is swift, and it’s precisely what I expected: Her face drops.
“Listen,” I add in hurry, “it’s not because I can’t handle it, or I’m bored. But there’s something more important I’m supposed to be doing. Something that does more for the world than choosing color schemes.”
Mom sighs, and the sound of it grates on me, because I’m the child she saves her sighs for. “But it’s been just three months since you announced to us that this was your future.”
“Four,” I correct, even though it doesn’t help my case. “And I would have stuck with it. I’m not a bad party planner. This isn’t like the Egyptian jewelry designs, Mom! But when Jamie was sick, I finally got a clue. It’s taken me a couple of months to mull it over, but I’ve finally figured myself out.”
Mom shoves a cookie in her mouth. That’s how I know I’ve really stressed her out. Normally she avoids white flour and sugar. “So tell me.” She nods like I should get on with it.
“I need to go to nursing school. I know it will be hard, but I really want to do it.”
She chews. She swallows.
She shoves another cookie in her mouth.
Yikes.
Eventually she sets the tray down and takes my hand. “Nursing school is expensive, sweetie. And it’s hard. If you go, you have to finish.”
“I will finish,” I insist. “I’m already applying to four schools.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s a lot of schools.”
“They’re, uh, expensive like you said. And it’s competitive, too. But I can do this. I got a B in organic chemistry. They care about that. I’m smart enough to get in.”