“Blake....Blake, stop...”
He squeezes my ass and continues to f**k me with his tongue, attacking my clit with kisses that make me scream his name louder and louder.
With my eyes still shut, I try to grab his head one last time and push him away, but he takes my hand and holds it still. Just as I’m about to yank it free, my body starts to convulse.
Tremors start traveling up and down my spine, and I feel myself getting closer and closer to an orgasm.
I feel Blake leaning over me and kissing my neck, whispering, “Let go, Paris,” and I scream—letting waves of pleasure roll through me over and over again.
My hips continue to shake as I open my eyes, and Blake rubs his palms against my thighs until they stop.
I lie there panting for what feels like forever—unsure of what the hell just happened. I mean, I’ve had that done to me before but not like that. Never like that.
Jesus...
Blake closes my legs and slips an arm underneath my hips, slowly lifting me up.
He re-fastens my robe without saying a word, and then he looks into my eyes. “I’m going to finish my shower. I’ll meet you in the living room in a little bit. Maybe you can think of another game we can play?” He trails his fingers against my lips before walking away.
At this very moment, I wish I had a set of giddy girlfriends to call, someone who can relate to this, but all I have is David.
Oh well...
I pull my phone out of my pocket and call him.
“What’s up, Pear Pear?” he answers.
“He f**ked my pu**y with his mouth.”
“What?!” He sounds as if he’s choking. “What did you just say?”
“The guy I’m staying with...”
“The Blake? You decided to stay with him the entire time? No hotel?”
“No, but that’s not what I called to talk to you about.” I am literally grinning from ear to ear. “He just went down on me and I f**king loved it!”
“We need to redefine the lines of our best friend partnership, Paris. This is so out of bounds for appropriate conversation.”
“It was amazing! Like, more than amazing! Adrian was good, but he wasn’t memorable good when it came to doing that to me. I mean, I usually had to force him to do it and he would only do it for like ten minutes. Did I ever tell you that?”
“Why are we still having this conversation?”
“Blake was down there for a very long time—a very, very long time.”
“Paris...”
“And he made me cum! HARD! I haven’t cum in over a year, and I’ve never cum like that before!”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.” The sound of Blake’s voice makes me drop the phone to the floor. I stand completely frozen to my spot, unsure of what to say next.
“That sounded like a really interesting conversation.” He walks over and picks up my phone. Then he looks into my eyes—smoothing my hair with his hands. “Good to know you thought it was amazing.”
“I wasn’t talking about you.”
“Someone else made you cum within the last hour?”
I take my phone from him and start to walk away, but he pulls me into his arms.
“Did you think of something we could do tonight?”
“We’re not playing Never-Have-I Ever...”
He grins. “I wouldn’t want to play if I were you either. What do you normally do when you’re stuck at home?”
“Write or catch up on work, but snowstorms don’t really come down south that often.”
“Okay.” He lets me go. “Wait here.” He walks away and I take a seat on the couch.
I honestly want to suggest a repeat of what he did to me, but I don’t want to come off as needy. I guess I’ll just replay the feel of his lips over and over again for the rest of my stay here.
If he’s that good with his mouth, I wonder how amazing it would be if we—
“You’re mumbling to yourself...” Blake hands me my laptop. “Do you prefer hot chocolate or coffee?”
“Hot chocolate.”
He disappears again.
Minutes later, he walks into the room carrying two bright red mugs. After setting them on the table, he pulls a stack of files from the coffee table’s drawer.
“Do write with the TV on or off?” He sits next to me.
“On.”
He clicks the remote, and then he pulls me close. “Are you comfortable sitting like this?”
I nod. I am absolutely speechless.
I was expecting him to return with more drinks and another game of sexual innuendos, not work. This doesn’t make any sense.
“Something wrong?” He puts on a pair of reading glasses.
“No, I just thought...”
“That I would f**k you?”
“Do you always have to be so blunt? Didn’t they teach you anything about social graces while you were in school?”
“Is that what you thought, Paris?” he whispers. “Tell me.”
“Yes...”
He smiles, but then he changes the subject. “What type of stuff do you write?”
“Reflective pieces on new laws, culture reviews, things like that.” I pause. “I want to be an investigative reporter. I know I’m getting a late start on that career path, but...I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Your over the top suspicions make perfect sense now.”
“Whatever.” I laugh. “You know, I was too scared to tell Adrian my real dream after we settled in together because I didn’t think he would be supportive of me having a career like that...Now that I look back, I see how crazy it is that I—” I feel his lips on mine and completely forget the rest of that sentence.