Page 49

I gather the fabric at my waist in both fists. He grips my thighs, pulls them apart, and holds me open against the wall.

The first drag of his tongue is flat and slow, from my entrance to my clit, and my head falls back against the wall. He does it again. Then he parts me with his thumbs and simply looks. Heat floods my face. He leans in and blows a cool breath over my clit, and my hips jerk.

Then he feasts.

He licks and sucks at my folds, draws my clit between his lips, and flicks it with the tip of his tongue until my knees buckle. He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and pushes his tongue inside me, fucking me with it, his nose grinding against my clit.

When I lose my grip on the skirt, he stops.

He waits until I gather it back up.

Then he starts again, two fingers sliding back inside me and curling forward while his mouth closes over my clit and sucks hard.

I press my wrist against my mouth to muffle the sounds. It doesn’t help. My hips roll against his face, grinding, shameless, chasing it. He feels my thighs start to shake and hums against me, and the vibration sends me over.

I come hard and fast, my body bowing off the wall, my thigh clamping around his head, a broken moan leaking out around my wrist. He keeps his mouth on me and laps me through every pulse, slow and greedy, until I’m twitching and have to push his head away.

He rises and wipes his mouth with his thumb. Then he pushes that thumb between my lips and I suck it clean.

His eyes go dark and I follow his gaze as I sink to my knees before he can take the lead again. I yank his belt open, tear at his zipper, and pull him free. He’s hard and heavy in my hand, the tip already wet. I hold his gaze while I drag my tongue from the base all the way to the tip and lick the bead of pre-cum away.

He braces one hand flat against the wall above me. A rough sound escapes him.

I take him into my mouth. Slowly at first, my lips stretched around him, my tongue circling the ridge beneath the head. Then deeper. I hollow my cheeks and work my fist at the base in rhythm with my mouth, and his fingers thread into my hair. Not guiding. Holding on.

His hips begin to rock in small, careful movements. I want that care gone. I take him all the way, until my nose presses against him, and hold there, swallowing around him.

“Fuck, Blaire.”

His fist closes in my hair. Now he’s guiding. He pulls me off, lets me breathe, then pushes back in, fucking my mouth in deep, steady strokes while I look up at him through wet lashes.

His thighs tighten. His grip tightens. He’s close.

He pulls out of my mouth with a rough exhale and hauls me up by the arms, kissing me hard, tasting himself on my tongue.

“Not yet,” he says. “I’m coming inside you.”

He grips the back of my thigh and lifts, hooking my knee over the edge of the cabinet beside us and opening me to him completely. He fists his cock, drags the head through my wetness once, and drives in with one hard stroke that punches the air from my lungs.

There’s nothing slow about it.

One hand grips my hip. The other covers my mouth again, pressing my head back against the wall. He fucks me hard and fast, his hips slamming into mine, the cabinet rattling against the wall with every stroke. Something inside it tips over with a dull knock. Neither of us looks.

My moans vibrate against his palm. He watches my eyes the whole time.

“Look at you taking every inch of me,” he says, low and rough.

My pussy clenches around him and he groans deeper. I claw at his shoulders and push my hips forward to meet him. He shifts his angle, lifting my leg higher, and the next stroke hits so deep my vision blurs. His hand slides from my mouth down between us and finds my clit, rubbing tight, fast circles while he drives into me.

“Come on my cock,” he says. “Quietly.”

I can’t. The second climax tears through me so fast I have to bury my face in his neck to smother the cry. My whole body clenches around him in waves.

He follows immediately. His rhythm breaks. He buries himself to the hilt and holds there, a low groan pressed against my throat, and I feel him pulse inside me, filling me in hot, heavy spurts until he’s completely spent.

We stay like that. His forehead drops to mine. Our breathing fills the tiny room. Slowly, he eases my leg down from the cabinet. When he pulls out, his cum slides down the inside of my thigh.

For a few moments after we stop, neither of us moves very far. My breathing is still uneven as I smooth my dress back into place and try to make myself look remotely presentable. Ross straightens beside me, fastens his trousers, and drags one hand through his hair before glancing toward the narrow door that leads back into the passage.