Back out into the open plan kitchen/diner which has been decorated in a simple, but classic, black and white theme, I lay out my papers, pushing a bundle, secured with a paperclip, towards Blake.
“These are the official papers for you to look through. If you’re looking to apply, you’ll need to fill out the back two pages as well as the email I send you. I know it’s a bit of a pain doing both, but my boss can be kinda old fashioned.”
“It’s fine, Calla. I don’t mind.”
A thrill goes through me at the sound of my name falling from Blake’s tongue. Such a simple thing, but I feel my nipples pebble beneath the confines of my bra, a hot bolt of heat surging through my core.
Just because he’s my client now, doesn’t mean I’m not extremely aware of how attractive he still is. Or that I know how to watch my tongue.
“You shouldn’t say my name like that.”
Blake crinkles his brows, peering up at me from where he’s leaning his corded forearms against the marble worktop, immersed in the paperwork I’ve pushed his way. “Why not?”
“It makes me feel a certain type of way,” I admit, shuffling to press my thighs together in an attempt to alleviate some of the growing pressure.
“That makes two of us, then.”
I certainly don’t expect Blake’s confession, which is probably why a huffed laugh escapes me.
He straightens up, turning his full attention to me. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing,” I giggle.
Blake raises an eyebrow, silently coaxing an answer from me. “This whole situation is just wild, don’t you think? We meet in a bar, sleep together, never got each other’s number and, I don’t know about you, but I never expected to see you again. London’s a pretty big place. But somehow, out of all the firms in the capital,youhiredme.And now we’re here.”
“Now we’re here.”
“So—” Blake steals the rest of my words, right from the tip of my tongue, replacing them with his own mouth. Dropping the rest of my papers onto the floor, I grip his arms with my hands as I open my lips to kiss him back properly.
“Tell me to stop, Calla,” he pants in between our kisses, hands moulding around my waist to lift me up and onto the kitchen worktop.
“I can’t,” I whimper when he strums the pad of his thumb over the bead of my nipple, obvious through the sheer material of my bra and the thin fabric of my white blouse. “Please don’t stop.”
It’s all sorts of wrong. I’m at work for one thing, Blake’s my client for another. Plus, there’s the whole matter of him being a standoffish prick. I’m supposed to be hating him, or at least, strongly disliking him, but my greedy pussy has other ideas.
The edge of the cold marble countertop digs into the bare flesh of my thighs as I twine my ankles at the base of Blake’s spine, heels falling to the ground with athud. The hem of my pencil skirt rides up with the movement, giving him easy access to my dripping core.
Bending his head to my chest, Blake sucks a nipple through my shirt while passing the pad of his thumb back and forth over my cloth covered clit. I’m a whining, overstimulated mess already. The warm, wet feel of Blake’s tongue on my sensitive tits, the graze of my cotton blouse against theflesh when he removes his mouth, cool air rushing in. The dizzying pass of his fingers against my needy core, never quite slipping beneath the lace, but instead circling at my clit.
It’s all too much.
I feel like I’m being ripped out to sea by a surprise rip current, one I never saw coming and can’t escape even if I wanted too.
Leaning back on my palms, I raise my head to the smooth ceiling, panting heavily. My blood roars loud in my ears, the smell of Blake’s aftershave and my perfume mixing together beneath my nose.
Gripping my chin with his thumb and forefinger, Blake brings my face back to meet him, holding me still while he devours my mouth. I’m helpless but to allow him, tightening my legs around his waist until I feel the hard bulge of his cock press against my warm core.
Blake grinds against me, once, twice, and then pulls back, grinning. He smacks the ball of gum that was once in my mouth, stealing it for his own. I watch as he blows a small bubble, smirking and then closes his mouth.
He’s too fucking attractive for his own good.
Lifting my bum, I wiggle my knickers down my knees, feeding them into the back pocket of Blake’s jeans. He watches me, silently, a single eyebrow raised, before he pushes open my legs wider.
“I don’t have a condom on me,” he admits, mouthing at the thin skin of my neck, my fucking weak spot, while I impatiently pop open his button and fly clasp, palming his hard cock at the first chance I get.
I want us both to be on the same page. If I feel like I’m free falling without a safety net to catch me, then Blake needs to feel the same way too. That way, at least, they will be two of us.
“Don’t care,” I moan, unceremoniously yanking down his underwear and directing the tip of his cock to rub against my swollen clit. “Fuck me that feels good.”
