Sitting up, I swallow between quick breaths.
He’s standing right in front of me, his chin inches from my lips, and I kiss him there, tasting myself on him. Stepping back, he smiles and looks down. I follow his gaze to his cock, where at the tip, fluid glistens. Some of it slides down and drips on the floor. He swipes a thumb over the rest and brings it to my lips, smears it over them. He bends and kisses me, eyes open and watchful, fingers stroking my pussy again.
Tasting the mix of his precum and mine, I throw my hands around his neck and grab his hair—finally—and kiss him with my eyes closed. This way, I don’t have to look at the devilishly charming, utterly out-of-my-league man who’s gonna punch myVanessa card and shatter the glass slippers. He’s dominant, but not aggressive. Charming, but not fake. Rich and full of himself, but not obnoxious. And he’s so easy to like, and I bet easier to fall in love with. This spells trouble for me.
While I’m holding him and he’s kissing me back, he strokes me but doesn’t touch any other part of me, and when he starts stroking me faster, I throw my head back and moan loudly, anticipating my orgasm again when he closes his hand over my throat and squeezes gently. The lack of air makes the blood rush to my cheeks. They heat up, and I gasp, my lower belly almost in a cramp over the need to come.
Blake releases my throat and wipes his fingers on his mouth. “The next time we meet, you will come. Meanwhile, don’t touch yourself.” He kisses me softly. “My pussy, my rules.” He tastes like peppermint and me, fresh and exciting, and when I finally leave the office in a daze, I know I left something behind. And it’s not my hymen. Shit.
6
NESSA
Shortly after I get off work, Blake’s limo pulls up on the street in front of our house. I double-check the towel that’s wrapped around my body and peek between the blinds. Brady, Blake’s driver, walks up to the door and knocks. He doesn’t wait for either of us to answer. “Ms. Corners, it’s Brady, Mr. Hellway’s driver. I have a delivery for you.”
Jen’s at the door. I’m at the window. She’s waiting for me.
“Open it,” I say.
She squeals and swings the door open, then steps forward. The door hits the rubber stopper, bounces back, and hits my sister, pushing her into the doorjamb. She bangs her head on the jamb and bounces back, light-blonde hair spilling out of the bun at the top of her head.
Trying not to laugh, I cover my mouth.
The driver’s staring blankly at her as she stares back, a blush crawling up her cheeks.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“I’m great. Hi,” Jen says.
“A package for your sister from Mr. Hellway. He arrives on time at all times and has asked for her not to be late.”
“Thank you,” Jen says and accepts the package.
My sister lingers at the door, watching the limo drive off. She turns to me and says, "He's hot.”
“Jen, he could be your dad. Or uncle.”
“Sister, yes. Daddies are hawt.”
I wave my hand to ward off her dirty thoughts from occupying my brain more than they already are since I heard Blake refer to himself as one such Daddy last night.
Jen puts the package on the dining room table. We hover over the black designer bag with three boxes inside. Jen looks up. “He must like you.”
“Nah, he’s just loaded.”
“Duh, Nes. Loaded dudes throw money, attention, and semen on women they like. That’s why they’re called loaded dudes. Loads of money and seed.”
I smile. “He likes new toys. Most men do.” I wince at the same time Jen winces. She’s been a new toy for a rock star and a billionaire, sometimes shared between the rock star and the billionaire. They promised her the world, yet delivered it in ruins. They broke my sister, and I’d love for them to pay for it one day. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“They’re my bad memories. You don’t have those, and not all men are the same.”
“But some are.”
Jen worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “If you’re having second thoughts, we can bail, leave the state.”
Blake’s money in my bedroom closet says I can’t bail. Besides, he’s been kind and sexy, and I’m not afraid of him that way. I just don’t want to fall for him.
“He’s easy to fall for.”
