“So sweet of you, Lexi, but if I wanted to look like a walking, talking stick figure, I would. I’m very happy with my body, but I appreciate your concern. On that note, do you want the name of a different plastic surgeon? Your cheek implants are looking a little droopy.”
Lexi gasps, and I slam the door in her face, not giving a shit if Blake finds out about it later. Rude bitch. I walk to my room, feeling more exhausted from tonight’s shitshow than I have in a while, and pull my sweater up over my head, dropping it into the laundry basket, followed by my jeans.
Blake leaves the closet in nothing but his boxer briefs, and for a moment, I’m stunned. I’ve gotten so accustomed to gettingready for bed and going to sleep alone that I don’t remember the last time I saw him naked.
He saunters up to me, a hand sliding through my hair and gripping the base of my neck, using the hold he has on me to roughly pull me against his body. He doesn’t waste another moment, sliding his free hand between my legs and pressing hard against my core. It’s much rougher than I would like, and extremely sudden. It does the opposite of excite me.
“You were perfect tonight, darling. So perfect. He was so impressed by you,” Blake mumbles as he presses his face into my neck. I melt slightly at his words, but I’m still pissed about the situation, especially about finding out his company has been funding the shelter and my pay.
“Blake . . .” I urge, as I try to push him off me slightly, bracing my hands on his shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me they were the donors for the shelter?”
He leans in again, lapping at my neck, leaving overly wet kisses under my ear. I lift my shoulder to get some space between us again, trying to get his attention. “Blake, talk to me.”
“I knew you’d say no; can’t a man take care of his woman? You wanted the shelter, I gave you the shelter. Now, say thank you and let me fuck you.”
He gave me the shelter. He made it possible. He saw how hard I was working to save Bloomfield Animal Haven, and he got his company to save the day. Maybe he does appreciate me. Maybe this is his way of showing me he does see the value in what I do. I can’t believe he did this for me.
Before I can say another word, Blake kisses me, and the taste of alcohol on his tongue makes my stomach turn slightly, but Itry to relax, try to melt into his touch, even if it’s a bit too aggressive. He’s never been quite so aggressive like this before, but at least he’s showing me some affection, or trying to at least. It’s been so long since he’s wanted to be intimate with me that I’m not about to deny him now. We need to connect; maybe this will help us.
My hands roam his shoulders, arching my neck to give him better access. I try to slow him down as he trails sloppy, wet kisses down my neck and shoulder. “I’m gonna take what’s mine, Bristol, enough holding out on me,” he mumbles against my skin. His words slither down my spine.
“I’m not holding out, Blake; we’ve both been busy.”
“We’re not busy tonight,” he slurs, palms moving to my breasts, gripping them roughly, almost to the point of pain. I grip his wrists, pulling them off of me, but he’s determined, his hands moving toward my underwear. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.
“Blake, you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk, honey. Now lay down and let me have you.”
Everything is all wrong. Sex with Blake has been bland for a while now, but tonight feels different; he feels off. His kisses are rough and messy, and not doing anything in the way of turning me on. His touch feels wrong, like my body is rebelling against it.
After a moment, he pushes me back onto the bed, and I go willingly, letting Blake pull down my underwear and toss them off to the side. I feel anything but sexy right now, but as he steps out of his boxer briefs, I notice he’s already hard and ready to go.
Heat flushes over me, my body eager for touch. Any touch. My eyes roam over his body, his chiseled abs, his unmarked porcelain skin. He really is good-looking. It’s been so long since I’ve had any type of physical attention, I try to force myself to relax, to give in to the moment here with Blake. We so rarely have sex, and at least he’s trying now.
“He still refuses to eat your pussy?”Kira’s voice drops into my head, and I should be frustrated, but she’s annoyingly not wrong, per usual. I want to feel the warmth of a mouth on me, a wet tongue slide against my clit so bad that I almost ask Blake to do it. Fear of rejection holds me back. The last thing I want is to ruin this moment when he’s finally giving me attention.
Blake fumbles with a condom, rolling it on, then climbing onto the bed. Pushing my knees open, Blake falls down on top of me. I can smell the strong stench of the scotch he’s been nursing all night and have to turn my head the other way to avoid it. Blake lines himself up with my center and starts to push his way in.
When I wince, he doesn’t notice, too busy rutting, pushing in slightly, before pulling back out. “For fuck’s sake, Bristol, you’re making it hard on me.” My heart lodges in my throat. This isn’t what I wanted it to be like, but now I’m remembering how it was.
“I’m sorry, let me just . . .” I slip my hand between us, finding my clit and rubbing in soft circles the way I like it. I let my eyes fall shut, trying to focus on the sensation when a pair of familiar emerald eyes appear, the strong, soft-spoken, tender man behind them looking down at me with so much awe and appreciation. My heart stammers in my chest as my clit throbs against myfingers.
Blake slips inside easier, filling me in one hard thrust that makes my stomach roll with nausea. He starts to pull out, a fast drag of his dick before pushing hard back in, as I try to let myself get lost to the sensations, trying to stay in the moment.
My free hand runs the familiar length of his arms, over the swell of his shoulders and back down again, but every time I close my eyes, I’m greeted with a stare that is not the man currently inside me.
My pussy gets wetter, soaking my fingers, my heart pounding in my chest, as I do everything I can to focus on Blake, but no matter how hard I try, the only thing turning me on right now is imagining what it would be like if it were Rhys instead. How he’d hold me close, how he’d check in on me, how he’d make sure I came before he ever got close. I don’t know how I know those things, but I do.
“That’s it. You’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you?” My heart seizes in my chest, and I freeze my ministrations. “Fuck, that’s right, take it. My whore likes to be filled, huh? Likes to take cock any way I can give it to her?” he seethes as he jerks into me.
I tilt my head to the side as I gasp for air. Blake pounds into me, ruthlessly, harder than I would want. Just as I tap him, finally done with this bullshit and wanting him to get off, Blake comes with a loud, drawn-out pant.
He rolls off of me a second later, lying on his back with an arm covering his eyes as he catches his breath. Tears well in my eyes, my hands shaking. What the fuck just happened? Did he really just fuck me, call me a slut and a whore, come, and then it’s over?
Sex should be about open communication, and this certainly isn’t something we’ve ever talked about before. If Blake is into degrading his partners, he should talk to me before trying it.
I sniffle, sitting up and adjusting my bra, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but near Blake. How the hell could he think any of this was okay? So much for goddamn connection. My body tightens as if insects are crawling under my skin. It’s a trapped kind of discomfort, the kind that makes me want to run without knowing where to go, to peel something away even though there’s nothing there to peel. I just want out, even if I don’t know where “out” would be. All I know is I need to move.
