Authors: Lisa de Jong
“Shit. I need to get home.”
“Oh, no you don’t. You’ve been drinking,” I interjected, pulling her arm from her gaze.
She rolled her eyes. “Just a glass of wine, Blaine. I’m fine.”
“And you just pulled a nonstop late shift. You look exhausted.”
And sexy as hell.
“Gee, thanks,” she huffed. “So what do you propose? I can call a cab, I guess.”
“No.” I slid my grasp from her forearm and tangled my fingers with hers. “Stay with me. Tonight.”
“Blaine…”
“I’m not saying we have to do anything. Just sleep, like before. That was nice, right?”
She twisted her bottom lip before scraping it with her teeth. “I guess…yeah. It was nice.”
A triumphant smile tugged on the corner of my mouth. “And you know you’re safe with me, right? You know you can trust me.”
Again she worried that lip, looking away from my fixed gaze. Finally, she let out a shaky breath and nodded.
“Yes.”
Fuck. Yes.
That was all I needed to hear.
I squeezed her hand gently before climbing to my feet, pulling her up with me.
“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
Chapter 17
Kami
What the hell was I doing? Was I losing my damn mind?
No, seriously. I had to be going bat-shit crazy.
Not only was I completely going against every rule I had ever set for myself, I had just told Blaine that I trusted him. Something I had never told any man, outside of Dom.
And what was even crazier? I really did trust him. Dammit, I trusted Blaine and wanted to spend the night with him. So much so, that I had let myself have that glass of wine, knowing he wouldn’t let me drive afterward.
I was going straight to hell. But first, I’d earn the ride.
“So this is it,” he said, ushering me into his bedroom. He swept an arm around the room like he was on an old episode of MTV Cribs.
“Where all the magic happens?” I asked, snickering at my own private joke.
Blaine shrugged sheepishly. “I wouldn’t say that. I mean, no magic has happened in here…ever.”
I pursed my lips. “Bullshit.”
“No seriously,” he replied, holding up three fingers like some badass, rogue Boy Scout. “I just bought this place about a year ago.”
“Sooo… where do you entertain your…
dates?
”
He shook his head. “You don’t really want to have this conversation. Do you?”
“Guess not,” I shrugged. I really didn’t. But then again, the suspense might’ve killed me. I shook off the images of him and countless, faceless women sexing on the couch, and let my eyes roam his private space.
“Hey, what’s that?”
I walked over to his dresser where two pieces of folded, colored paper sat side by side. Holding up the crane, I cocked a curious brow.
Blaine shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “You said I could have one.”
I nodded and captured my lips between my teeth in an attempt to keep from grinning like the Cheshire cat. Then I traded the delicate crane between my fingertips for the lime-green flower that was once an advertisement for a car detailing shop.
“I didn’t want it to go to waste,” he explained without me asking. “It was from our first date, in a place that’s important to me. I wanted something to remember it by. But that’s it.”
I straightened his keepsakes and looked up at him and smiled. “So just another semi-creeper moment?”
“Yeah,” he grinned sheepishly.
Letting him off the hook, I swallowed the swell of emotion building in my chest and changed gears. “Ok. I really want a shower, and I have no sleeping clothes. Unless you like the smell of beer and sweat in your sheets.”
He flashed me a naughty smile, his eyes low and predatory. “I like your sweat.”
Ok. That was it. Blaine had me - hook, line and sinker. All he had to do was tell me to get naked and assume the position.
He laughed, shrugging off his comment. “You can use my bathroom. Clean towels are in there. I’ll get you something to wear.”
When he turned to rummage through his drawers, I let out a sigh of relief. Then that relief quickly blossomed into anxiety. Was I really going to sleep with him? Were we actually going to cross that line? I mean, sure, I wanted to- more than anything - but could I see myself taking that step with Blaine? What would that mean for us? What would that mean for
me?
“You ok, Kam?” he asked, breaking me from my conflicted inner monologue.
“Uh, yeah. Just tired.”
I accepted the t-shirt and boxer shorts he offered me and scurried into the en suite bathroom, escaping his questioning eyes. It was immaculate, of course, much like everything else in his house. I felt like an ass for prejudging him, thinking I would be walking into the ultimate bachelor pad. It was quite the opposite, actually. Everything was neat and tidy, yet it felt homey and warm. There were no beer cans littering the countertops. No posters of nude models. Not even a crusty sock forgotten in a corner.
Blaine Jacobs was a walking contradiction. On the outside, he looked dangerous. Exciting. Mysterious. But what I had learned about him told me a different story. He was kind, gentle, and protective. He was expressive to a fault. He smiled often, and he had the same corny sense of humor as me. Blaine may have looked scary-beautiful on the outside, but it didn’t compare to the beauty of his soul. It was a concept I had only seen personified in Dominic, and that drew me to Blaine even more.
Not wanting to make him believe I was digging through his medicine cabinets - which I was actually tempted to do - I turned on the water. Then reality struck, crushing my chest and stealing my breath.
The door. The door was closed.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
Cold sweat broke out all over my face and neck, the surface of my skin growing prickly with goose bumps. I tried to center my breathing, and focused on inhaling through my nose and exhaling out of my mouth. On wobbly legs, I took a step towards the door. It appeared to be moving away from me, recoiling from my reach. I took another step, the edges of my consciousness becoming fuzzy and unfocused. I had to get to the door before I collapsed. Before my lungs felt the fear and restricted precious oxygen. I could feel it sweeping over me like deep, dark water. It was drowning me. I was suffocating in my own pathetic trepidation.
I felt the coolness of the doorknob, my vision obscured with dark, fuzzy spots. I twisted until I heard a click, releasing it from the frame along with my ragged breath. I was ok. I would be ok.
Relief washed over me, pushing away the panic, as I slid to the floor against the tub. Within seconds, my breathing became more productive. My heart rate had begun to slow, no longer thumping in my ears like a bongo drum. After a couple minutes, my vision had returned to 20/20, and the thick saliva in my mouth, preempting vomit, had dissipated.
I took a deep breath before standing and peering out of the cracked bathroom door. Thank baby Jesus, Blaine was nowhere to be found. I peeled off my now sweat-drenched clothes and stepped into the hot water.
Lathering up with shower gel that smelled masculine and fresh, I washed away the remains of my angst. It smelled like
him.
I squirted a generous dollop onto the shower puff and slid it along my body, letting his scent seep into my skin, as I rubbed the soap across my nipples, down my stomach and between my thighs. I took Blaine’s bath sponge, the sponge he used to clean his own wet, naked body, and raked it against my sex slowly. Then I did it again, biting my bottom lip, as I applied a bit more pressure and massaged his smell into me with closed eyes. I did it once more, letting my fingers create little circles with the mesh barrier.
A half-whine, half-cry startled me suddenly, and I dropped the sponge.
Shit.
What was that?
Ohmygod
, no I was not… I couldn’t even think it. I was too mortified at my complete lack of decency.
I rinsed as chastely as I could and stepped out. Luckily, I was still alone, but I wrapped the towel around me hurriedly, remembering that the door was slightly ajar. I picked up the pair of boxers first. They looked brand new and were a good bit too big. Then I remembered that Blaine went commando, and I nearly choked on my own saliva.
Oh God.
What if he slept naked? My bare lady bits percolated, and I slid on the underwear, hoping like hell that the loss of air would stifle the throb.
The plain white t-shirt was next, reminiscent of the tees he usually wore. I brought it up to my nose and took a whiff, savoring the scent of mint and spice absorbed in the soft cotton. I quickly put it over my head with the need to be surrounded in his scent. In that moment, I never wanted to wear anything else ever again.
I stepped into the still empty bedroom, unsure of what to do next. After stowing my clothes and shoes in a neat pile against the wall, I sat on the king sized, four poster bed, and pulled my knees up to my chest.
What was I doing here? This was all wrong. Too risky, too dangerous. Totally unlike anything I had ever done.
“Hey, you’re done,” Blaine smiled, stepping into the bedroom. He was freshly showered and damn delicious in only thin flannel pajama bottoms. I sat, staring, my knees still drawn up, mesmerized by the sight of intricate patterns and vibrant colors over smooth, hard planes of muscle.
“You ok, Kami?”
I snapped my gaping mouth shut and cleared my throat, nodding. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.”
Blaine gave me a devilish grin, rolling the barbell in his mouth as he stalked towards me. “You ready?”
“Uh, what? Ready?”
“For bed. You ready for bed?” he asked, stifling a chuckle. “Like I told you before, Kami, I’m not giving it up. So please, stop begging.”
I rolled my eyes and snatched the comforter back to climb in. “I take it back. You
are
a creeper. A full on, eyelash-collecting, panty-sniffing, toenail-munching creeper!”
Blaine stood at the foot of the bed in stunned silence before erupting into gut-busting guffaws. “What the fuck?” he chortled between hoots. “Eyelash-collecting?”
“Yes, creeper. Eyelash-collecting.” I settled into the bed, and turned onto my side with a huff. Away from him.
“Awww, come on, baby.” I could feel the bed dip as he climbed onto the bed. “I’m just teasing you. Don’t get mad. If you really want me, you can have me. I swear,” he snickered.
“Argh! Shut up, Blaine!” I pulled the comforter up to my face, hoping to hide my amused grin at his playfulness.
The warmth and hardness of his body against my back erased all signs of humor from my face. He wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling my frame into his. I noticed that about Blaine. He wouldn’t come to me with his tail between his legs, begging for a treat. He pulled me to
him
. He made me want to melt into his body, making it known that he was in control and taking what he wanted. I loved it, and the desire to be somewhat dominated scared the living shit out of me.
His soft, warm lips were at my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “Do you forgive me?” A large hand dipped down under the covers and grasped my thigh, sliding upwards before stopping at the imaginary panty line.
“I don’t know,” I breathed.
His hand slowly made its way past my hip before easing under the oversized tee and splaying across my stomach. My head was swimming, and I closed my eyes just to keep from drowning. I felt him all over. The slide of his fingers along my bare skin, his rippled chest flush against my back, his lips teasing my ear, the large stiffness under his pajama bottoms pressing hard against my backside… it was all too much to take. Yet, I wanted more. I wanted to feel all of him, as I wanted him to feel all of me, inside and out.
“How about now?” The very tip of his tongue darted out and traced the shell of my ear. Then his lips were on my neck, gently nibbling.
“Mmmm. Maybe,” I replied breathlessly. Every inch of me was aware and prickly, anticipating what would come next.
“Maybe? Not good enough.”
The moment his hand cupped my left breast, my already puckered nipples hardened until they ached, and I cried out. I couldn’t help it. He teased and rolled the pebbled skin between the calloused pads of his fingers, pulling and flicking gently as if simulating a tongue.
His
tongue. I wanted it. I needed it. But I was just too damn afraid to say it.
By the time his hand had moved to my right breast, repeating the delightful torture, I was writhing against him in a slow rhythm. He matched my movements, stroking me through his thin pajama bottoms, letting me feel how ready he was for me. I nearly gasped. I had never been with anyone quite
that
ready before. I mean, he was really,
really…
ready.
Blaine’s mouth was hot at my ear, his breath as labored as mine. “I need to kiss you. Now.”
In the next instant, he flipped me onto my back, and settled his body atop mine. Blaine’s inked arms enclosed my frame as his knee eased between my legs, slowly parting them. I didn’t have time to protest even if I’d wanted to. His lips captured mine with a hunger I had never experienced before. It was like he needed me to survive. Like kissing me was as necessary as his next breath.
Our lips, our tongues, moved together in perfect harmony. We were music together- melodious, intense and dramatic. His low groans became the bass line as he plucked the strings of my body, producing soft moans and high mewls. My hands were tangled in his hair, as his roamed the soft expanse of my frame, exploring the valley of my waist, the dip between my breasts, the raised peaks of my nipples. We were belly against belly, the hard ridges of Blaine’s midsection melting into the softness of mine.
Feeling his warmth, his body demanding my compliance, felt good. It felt right. And it felt like
more
. Not just another meaningless sexual encounter. Not a physical response to the opposite sex. Not a means to an end. Blaine was giving me more than just his body. He was filling me with his soul.
His mouth moved down to my neck, licking and sucking a trail down to my chest. The moment Blaine’s studded tongue flicked my nipple, I gasped. Sensation attacked the puckered bud, as he skillfully twirled that barbell around the tip before taking it into his mouth completely. His fingers coaxed the other, simulating the delicious torment of his tongue.