Talk about confusing; my body isn’t sure if it wants to fall asleep, safe in Blake’s corded arms. Or if I want to push him down to the floor, crawl atop and ride him – again – until we’re both sated.
“Later,” Blake promises, sealing it with a kiss. “I’ll give your tight little pussy what she’s craving later, okay? But for now… no dresses.”
Without prompt, he yanks the stripy cotton material down to my ankles.
Blood thrumming hot, horny and aching, I frown at Blake, crossing my arms beneath the band of my bra. “What do you suggest I wear then?”
“Drop the attitude.” His eyes flick to the hardened points of my nipples, visible the thin lace. “Was two orgasms this morning not enough to fuck the trouble out of you?”
I shake my head, biting back a smirk. “My pussy maybe, but not out of my mouth.”
The calloused pad of Blake’s thumb traces the upper portion of my Cupid’s bow, his eyes tracking the movement. I allow him to touch me for a heartbeat, before I open my lips wide and suck his digit into my mouth, making sure to lave my tongue around the tip.
“Forgot about this smart little mouth,” he mutters, voice low, dark almost. “Guess she’ll have to wait until I can teach her a lesson… do you think you can wait, Calla?”
I almost say no, I almost drop to my knees and yank down his loose shorts to get my mouth on him. But I manage to hold back, pulling my mouth back from his thumb, instead sinking my upper teeth into my bottom lip and bobbing my head slowly.
“That’s it,” Blake coos, tracing his saliva coated thumb to my thrumming pulse point lying beneath the thin skin of my neck. “Just imagine how good it’s going to feel once the wait is over. You can spend all day getting that pussy nice and wet for me, so I can fuck her as soon as I’m done with the match.”
“My mouth too?”
“Your mouth too,” Blake agrees, eyes half lidded. “Now get something you can sit comfortably in without being too warm. Maybe a pair of shorts?”
I make a grab for the overstuffed drawer beside Blake’s left hip, pulling out a crumpled pair of denim shorts that make my legs appear ten times longer than they actually are and a plain white tee.
Blake waits quietly and patiently as I get dressed, although I feel the heat of his eyes roving appreciatively across my body, before he grabs a palmful of my arse, places a quick peck to my lips and herds me to the front door.
“I found a cap and some sunglasses in one of your drawers,” he says as I loop a canvas tote bag over my shoulder and trot after him down the linoleum stairs, my trainers creating an annoyingsqueakwith each step. “I put them in your bag.”
“This bag?”
Blake nods without even looking. “Mhm. Oh, and some suncream too. I didn’t know if you burn or not and well, we’re going to be outside for a couple of hours, so…”
I squint against the bright summer sun when we spill out into the street beyond, setting off at a rapid pace in the opposite direction I usually take. My shorter legs are no match for Blake’s long ones, but I still try to keep pace with him, even as I dig around in my bag for said sunglasses.
“How long was I in my wardrobe?” I marvel, sliding the glasses onto the bridge of my nose. They’re not my usual pair, but they’ll do.
“Long enough,” Blake muses, grabbing my hand and peering both ways up and down the road before he allows us to cross.
“Well, thank you.” I grin. “That’s very organised of you. Although, I didn’t peg you as a snooper.”
“Really?” Blake frowns and then smiles, leading me into the drafty underground. “I’m a massive snooper. It’s one of my only faults.”
I let out a belly laugh at that and I’m still giggling to myself as we slide through the turnstiles, onto the platform and manage to steal ourselves two seats in the middle of the busy carriage.
“So, what are your friends like?” I ask Blake, resting my cheek on his shoulder when the tube begins to jolt and sway. Already, I can feel a thin layer of sweat building in the small space between my two shoulder blades with how warm it is surrounded by other bodies.
“My friends?”
“Yeah, on your team. What are they like?”
“Loud, annoying, obnoxious. But I love them, even when they’re being little dickheads and doing my head in.”
I huff a laugh through my nose, watching London appear through the grimy underground windows before the tube rattles back beneath the streets, giving me a glimpse of old brick work tunnels and mildew laden pipes.
The rest of the journey, Blake stays strangely silent.
Is he having second thoughts about… us?
