“Shit,” Blake grits out. I can tell by the way he’s shifted, abs bunching beneath my fingertips, that he’s lain down. “This tight little fucking pussy taking every inch of my fat cock, just like I knew she could. Ah fuck…”
His hands find my thighs, squeezing and jiggling the flesh there, kneading my skin in his palms. “I can’t get enough of you, sunshine.”
“Mhm,” I hum, moving faster, pulling my hips up, sinking down and twisting in a neat circle before I repeat the movement over and over. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Sliding my hand to the space we’re joined, I graze my fingertips over my clit, shivering at the ecstasy zipping down my spine.
“Fuck. I think I’m gonna come again.” I throw my head back, the tips of my hair tickling my low back.
“That’s it, sunshine. You’re doing so well.” Blake’s praise washes over me, pushing me further to the edge. “Let me see you make yourself come.”
I circle my clit faster, hips bucking, digging my nails into Blake’s abs to keep myself grounded.
“Almost there, Calla.” He traces my puffy lips, a profanity slipping from his mouth when I wrap my tongue around his thumb, moaning around the blunt digit and sucking hard. “I can feel you, sunshine. Squeezing that tight pussy of yours around me, trying to milk me dry. Come on, I wanna feel you gush for me, make a mess all over my bed.”
Blake’s filthy words tip me over the edge. I come with a shout, core spasming, thighs twitching, slick gushing out of me. I fuck myself on his cock through the tremors still wracking my wrung-out body, moving faster, faster, faster, until I’m panting, sweat gathering between my tits.
Ever the gentleman, now I’ve got mine, Blake tightens his grip on my waist, planting his feet flat on the mattress and bucking up into me. He fucks into me messily, my pussy creating a wet sucking sound with each of his hard upward thrusts.
“Holy shit, I’m gonna—Calla.” Blake groans, the tendons in his neck straining when he pushes his head back into his pillow, his cock thickening and pulsing inside of me.
I feel a slight spike of warmth when he fills the condom, but it’s not the same as being fucked raw; our bodies as physically close as they can get.
I pout at the thought.
Leaning forward, sandwiching our hips, stomachs and chests together, I graze Blake’s lips with mine. Pressing featherlight kisses to his tense jawline, I move along back and forth until he regains enough feeling in his legs to slip out of me and tuck me into his warm, slightly tacky with sweat, side.
He strokes my hair as I lay my cheek on his chest, listening to his heartrate and his breathing return to its normal pace.
“Do you want some breakfast?”
I peer up at him through my lashes. “Breakfast and a show, aren’t I such a lucky girl?”
He huffs out a low laugh at that, swinging his legs out of bed.
I watch as he stands, in all his naked glory – my greedy core clenching at the sight of his perfectly sculpted arse of his – padding to his wardrobe and shoving a pair of grey tracksuit pants up his hips, before he turns to grin at me. “Come on. I think you need all the fuel you can get after that performance.”
I steal his button down from the night before, scooping itup off the floor and shrugging it over my shoulders before following in Blake’s footsteps.
“Tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee, please,” I call, freeing my clutch from behind the back of the sofa, where I’d dumped it in my haste last night and sliding my phone out.
A quick glance at my missed notification panel shows a myriad of text messages in the group chat I’m in, a comment on my latest TikTok and a message from an unknown number…
UNKNOWN NUMBER: he isn’t who he says he is, Calla.
My blood runs cold through my veins, gooseflesh erupting over the tops of my bare thighs.
Who the hell is this and how do they know my name?
Who isn’t who he says he is? Blake?
Frowning, I carefully read the bizarre text message again even as my skin crawls with fear. What the ever-loving fuck is going on?
I tap on the contact details, their profile left blank and the number unrecognizable. Of course. Whoever is cowardly enough to text me something so cryptic instead of telling me to my face, isn’t going to have a profile picture…
“Calla?”
