Slowly, and with great deliberation, I sweep my tongue across the spot. “Did I get it?” I’m teasing him mercilessly right now, but at least he doesn’t look sad.
“No,” he says, his voice pure gravel. “It’s…let me.” He takes a step closer. Now he’s looking down at me, his lips mere inches from mine. I quiver with expectation as he lifts a hand to cup my chin. “Jess…” he whispers.
And then Blake swipes his thumb across my lip and takes a step backward, sighing.
A beat goes by while my body says, Really? I feel unconscionably bereft. I’m used to Blake trying to get into my pants. Now he’s not, and it’s so confusing.
I pick up the spoon and dig it into the ice cream. Blake watches me, his gaze on fire. I take a bite. Then I scoop up another spoonful and feed it to him.
It’s smooth and cold and wonderful. Heaven, really. Another bite for me. Another one for him. He’s still watching every move I make. His laser concentration makes me feel completely alive. With those big green eyes tracking me, I’m not a broke student or a pharmacology failure. I’m just here, in this moment. And it’s beautiful.
On the next bite, I let the spoon linger in my mouth. He looks pained. Then, instead of offering the next bite, I take that one, too, smiling at him.
Blake’s eyelids get heavy. He mutters something like, “Oh, fuck it,” and before I can blink, he tosses my spoon on the counter and grabs my head, tugging it toward him. With a groan, he claims my mouth, his tongue parting my lips immediately. Our kiss is cold and hot and pure chocolaty hunger.
I moan into his mouth as a big hand grabs my bottom, pulling me into him. And there is nothing sexier than the Great Wall of Blake Riley. The front of me is flush against his hard body. The feel of him is addictive. It’s really no mystery why I keep shedding my clothes like a snakeskin every time we’re alone. His greedy kisses have already dismantled much of my executive function. My awareness narrows down to the taste of his kisses and the throbbing of my heart.
And other places.
My hands are almost too small to grasp his shoulders, but I need more of him. “Bedroom,” I murmur between kisses.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he picks me up in one hand. We don’t even stop kissing as I fly through the air perched on his forearm. The light dims as we enter a back room. A second later he tosses me onto a giant cloud, which turns out to be a bed the size of my entire dorm room. He whips his shirt off. When he unzips his jeans, just the sound of the zipper makes me shiver. And then he shoves those down, along with his boxers. As always, my mouth goes dry at the dual sights of his massive erection and the look of determination on his handsome face.
This beautiful man wants me. Me. It’s enough to make a girl dizzy.
“You realize what this means, right?” he says, putting one muscular knee onto the bed.
“Mmmm?” That I have zero self-control?
He leans down to grasp the ankles of my yoga pants. And—whoosh—they disappear, along with my scruples. My shirt meets the same fate a second later. Blake props himself onto his elbows over my body. He puts his face between my breasts and sighs. Nudging my bra out of the way with his chin, he takes my nipple into his mouth suddenly and sucks on it with soft lips.
I gasp, my back arching unbidden.
“You know what this means,” he says again, unclasping my bra. “It means we’re going out for real.”
24 Driving Under the Influence of Orgasms
Jess
It takes a second for me to process the words, because Blake’s hungry lips have attacked my other breast. “Wait. What?” I demand.
He releases me with a wet pop. “You. Me. We’re a thing, if I do you in my bed.”
“Says who?” My words are tough, but I’ve heated up faster than the top-of-the-line stove I spotted in his spiffy kitchen.
“Says me. My bed is a temple. It’s reserved for solo spanks. And girlfriends.”
Blake licks a hot stripe between my breasts, and I shiver uncontrollably. Damn him. He can’t drop a girlfriend bomb while licking me all over. It’s impossible to concentrate.
“Just close your eyes, Jessie. We’ll talk deets later.”
What deets could we possibly need to go over? I’m not his girlfriend, and I’m not—oh wow. His tongue is working my nipple now and it’s pure heaven. Soft flicks and gentle kisses that make my toes curl into the mattress. And his warm palm is traveling down my stomach, tickling my mound, cupping my aching core.
I moan when the heel of his hand applies delicious pressure to my clit. Okay. He’s right. We can save the talking for later. It’s impossible to multitask when he’s touching me. When he’s sliding down my body and planting greedy kisses on my inner thighs.
“Better than ice cream,” he rasps against my sensitive flesh, his tongue coming out to tickle my clit. “So much sweeter, baby.” Then he captures the little bud between his lips and sucks hard enough to make me cry out.