“Gotta keep you full so you don’t make a mess and squirt all over,” he groans, jaw tight. “Open you’re fucking eyes, Calla.”
I wasn’t even aware I’d screwed them shut, but it takes every ounce of my energy to do as Blake asks, finding him to be staring down at me through heavy looking lids.
“Did you hear me, sweet girl? Gotta keep you stuffed full, so you don’t make a mess on the floor. Right?”
All I can do but nod my head, too far gone with ecstasy.
“Tell me I can cum inside you, Calla. Tell me I can fill you up until you have no choice but to walk out of here with me dripping down your legs.”
“Do it. Yes. Please, Blake.Do it.”
I feel him swell impossibly inside of me, cock kicking with each ribbon of his release painting my sensitive walls.
The single ticking of the kitchen clock, left behind from the apartment’s late tenant, is the only sound echoing across the walls, filling the space as Blake slides out of me, tucking himself back into his boxers and jeans.
I slip down from the countertop, my legs like a newborn deer, rightening my-probably-cum stained pencil skirt.
Holding my hand out, palm open, I flick my fingers in a come-hither motion. “My knickers?”
Blake shakes his head, patting his bulging back pocket. “Nuh uh, Calla. I want you dripping down your thighs, remember?”
“I—” I cough, swallowing roughly. “I thought you were joking.”
“I don’t joke, Calla. Not when it comes to something as serious as you, anyway.”
The honesty in his gaze burrows under my skin, trying it’s best to find its way to my heart.
Well, the jokes on Blake because I turn away before he can.
“This…” I lick my dry, kiss bitten lips. I don’t have a mirror handy on me, but I bet for a fact I look freshly fucked. Not to mention the already tacky feeling fluid I can feel kissing, coating,markingmy inner thighs.
How did I let this happen?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Straightening my back, I slide the soles of my feet into my heels, giving myself a quick boost in height, to look Blake in the eye. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
He says nothing.
I try again. “Did you hear me?”
He nods once, lips thinning. “Agreed. It won’t happenagain. I’ll sign the paperwork, and you can tell your boss I’ll take the apartment. I’ll be back out of your life before you know it, Calla.”
“Blake—”
Gripping his papers tightly, crumpled from our coupling, he sends a final tight smile my way, eyes dull and heavy looking, before making for the door. “Goodbye, Calla.”
I stand, my heart plummeting somewhere in the pits of my stomach, watching as he walks away and out of my sight. I hate the hot tears that prick my lower lash line, threatening to cascade.
I don’t get a chance to dissect the tightness starting in my heart, travelling all the way down to paralyse my stomach, causing an uncomfortable knot to form, before my phone begins to ring. The caller ID flashes aggressively; my boss’ name sprawled across the screen.
Batting away any and all thoughts of Blake, I jab my thumb into the accept button. “Hello, Mr McAvoy?”
“Calla,” he purrs. “How did the viewing go?”
“Good.” I push myself off from the wall I’ve been leaning against and force a smile onto my face. For once, I’m glad there’s nobody around to question the fakeness. “It went really well. My client, Mr M, would like to put in his paperwork…”
Chapter 11
