And then he crashed his lips to mine.
40
TESSA
His kiss was fierce and demanding, his fingers threading through my hair as his tongue pressed to mine. I melted into him, my fingers sliding through his silky strands, drawing him closer as need coursed through me like wildfire, settling between my thighs, where an unbearable pulse started to drum like a heartbeat.
Blake’s palm found my breast, drawing a gasp from my lips.
Which made him stop for a second, his features falling into worry, perhaps that this level of intimacy was too much after my past.
“It’s okay.” I nodded, pressing his hand to my breast.
It took him a moment to accept the assurance, but when he did, his touch sent sparks racing across my skin.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pressed my body to his, feeling his desire press against my thigh. I rolled my hips slightly, drawing a groan from deep in his throat and matching it with one of my own.
Our kiss grew desperate in a symphony of sighs and gentle bites, of exploring tongues and shared breaths. In all my years of fantasizing about kissing Blake—that quick drunken moment, I decided, didn’t count, not when I’d been too shocked to respond—I’d never imagined it could be like this: raw, uninhibited, years of tension finally unleashing in a storm of sensation.
Standing on this terrace, with the city lights in the distance and gentle bubble lights floating over the space, I felt like we were in a magical garden.
His hand slipped beneath the fabric to caress my bare breast, and I arched into his touch, needing to feel him, all of him, all over my body. This was sweet torture, my body electric with pleasure but aching for more. When his hand traveled down my stomach to my waistband, I let out a soft whimper against his lips.
I didn’t protest when he broke our kiss to slide my shorts and underwear down my legs or when he knelt before me, his eyes sparkling with promise as he waited for me to step free of them.
My pulse, my need, everything quickened at the intensity of his gaze.
He rose to claim my mouth again, his hands possessive as they explored my breasts, thumbs circling my sensitive peaks. My fingers mapped the planes of his chest, tracing the defined muscles beneath his shirt.
“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this,” Blake breathed against my skin, trailing kisses along my jaw and down my neck. In one smooth motion, he tugged my tank top up, exposing my breasts to the cool night air.
His mouth found my nipple, the wet heat of his tongue drawing a moan from my throat as I cradled his head, back arching while he lavished attention on each of my breasts. All the while, his eyes stayed locked on mine, sharp with desire, and then he lifted my hips and placed me on the edge of the terrace, the smooth stone cold against my ass.
The railing at my back was the only barrier between me and a long-ass drop, but I couldn’t focus on anything except Blake kneeling between my thighs, his soft lips pressing kisses near mysensitive flesh. So close to where I wanted them to be that the pulse in my sex throbbed harder.
My fingers tangled in his hair as realization hit me. The city lights. The terrace. He might not have planned for this to happen, but he was re-creating that scene from the romance novel he’d found in my townhouse, where the heroine was pleasured against a backdrop of city lights.
And luckily for me, Blake didn’t live in the heart of the city; he lived on the outskirts, on the tallest building for miles, making me feel free to enjoy what was about to happen.
Blake opened his mouth and hesitated, holding my eyes for one second before, finally, he swiped his tongue up my sex in a long, torturous lick.
The ache between my thighs intensified, becoming almost unbearable.
“You taste like heaven, Cupcake.” His voice was rough with desire.
“Blake …”
Pressing his hands on my inner thighs, he spread me wider, his gaze hungry as he took in the sight of me. “Gorgeous.”
Another slow stroke of his tongue had me trembling, especially when he reached that sensitive bundle of nerves and began tracing lazy circles. When he slipped a finger inside me, I clutched the railing behind me.
“Tell me what you want, Tessa.” His demand was both gentle and hungry.
“What … what do you mean?”
“Tell me how you like to come.”
He was asking for mypreferredposition, I realized.
