I carried her to the bed after we fucked on the couch, and the floor, and the kitchen counter because she looked incredible making coffee in my kitchen and I couldn't help myself. I haven't been able to stop touching her. Stop watching her.
Blaire fucking Alexander loves me and I am officially, completely, irrevocably addicted to her.
Needing to taste her again like I need to breathe, I lean over and press my lips to her collarbone, running my tongue along the length of it the way I've been thinking about since the first time I noticed it across a library table ten years ago. She lets out a soft sleep-moan, and it goes straight to my cock.
I move down slowly, positioning myself between her legs, her thighs warm and heavy across my shoulders. I'll never get enough of her scent. How pretty she is. Still glistening. I'vewatched porn — just because I was a virgin doesn't mean I didn't have urges — but I feel like it genuinely didn't do this justice. Nothing could.
I give her folds a soft kiss.
Then I run my tongue between them and immediately thrust my cock into the mattress like a teenager.
It's even better directly from the source.
Another soft moan escapes her, and whatever restraint I had left dissolves completely. I bury my tongue inside her, then lick slowly from bottom to top, finding her clit, and her hips begin to roll against my face in her sleep, like her body already knows what it wants before she does.
I take her clit into my mouth and suck.
Her whole body trembles as she wakes into it, limbs stretching, already cresting before she's fully conscious.
"God. Oh god." Her hands find my hair and fist tight, and I groan against her at the pull of it, and she gasps at the vibration, and we find our rhythm like we've been doing this for years.
Pleasuring her fills me with a pride I wasn't prepared for. Years of convincing myself I'd be too broken by the time I found the right woman, too damaged, too far gone — and here I am. I wasn't broken. I was just waiting. Waiting for her.
For my Blaire.
"Bennet, please." Her hips buck hard against my face.
I flip her onto her stomach, pulling her up onto her knees, and bury my face, running my tongue from her clit to her puckered ass.
She lets out a tortured groan; face pressed into the mattress. "Fuck, that feels amazing."
Something possesses me, and I lean back and smack her ass twice, then line myself up and bottom out in one deep thrust.
"Yes, ohfuck." She screams out, and it spurs me on completely.
Her moans turn guttural and needy as I spank her again and again, my thrusts growing more desperate with every hit.
"No one else will ever touch this body again. It's mine now. Is that understood?"
She groans without a verbal response.
"Out loud, Blaire."Thrust. Thrust."Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours," she cries out. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'myours."
"Fucking right." Thrust. "My Blaire." I wrap my fist in her hair and lose control, fucking into her with every shred of love and devotion I have for her. The sounds her pussy makes as it swallows my cock has me about to combust. Her screams start to get shallow. Her back curves up, and she gushes again.
"Good fucking girl. Soak the bed, baby."
She pulls me right under with her as my cock jerks and shudders, releasing inside of her. "Blaire fucking Sullivan. That's gonna be your name as soon as you'll let me."
I fall forward and twist, so she falls with me, both of us a panting, sweaty mess. "Fucking mine."
"How the hell are you so good at this already?" She whimpers.
"I've had ten years to fantasize about the things I'd do to you, Blaire." I press my lips to her temple. "I'm living every fucking dream this weekend."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
