“I …” I swallowed as he licked me again, my shoulders pressing to the hard railing behind me. “I’ve only done it with my vibrator.”
His eyes snapped up to mine.
“You’ve never come with a guy before?”
I bit my lip, shaking my head. With anyone else, this admission might have been mortifying, but Blake’s expression looked … honored. His mouth rose on both sides, and then he stared between my legs with an all-new intensity.
“I get to be your first.” He licked circles around the most sensitive part of my flesh, his technique masterful, alternating between gentle suction and careful strokes that had me fighting to keep still.
“Oh God, right there,” I pleaded as he found a particularly sensitive spot. “Just like that …”
“Do you know what I’ve imagined doing to you, Tessa?”
I moaned as his tongue continued its sweet torture, the tension inside me building to unprecedented heights.
“I’ve dreamed of your mouth filled with me.”
His words sent an unexpected thrill through me. I’d never experienced this kind of talk before, but I loved it.
“I’ve dreamed of being deep inside you.”
He punctuated this confession by thrusting his tongue inside me, and I felt myself clench around him. I could feel his smile against my flesh before he returned to his earlier rhythm, licking and plunging his fingers inside of me.
“Ohhhh …”
The pleasure built inexorably as he devoted himself to my satisfaction, letting me rock against his face as I chased my release. I couldn’t believe this was happening, that after all these years, I was about to experience my first orgasm with a guy.
Best of all, that guy was Blake.
What a sight we were right now. Dark, handsome, and muscular Blake kneeling before my spread thighs, his face buried in my sex. Moaning, I felt my legs begin to tremble as I held his head to my sensitive flesh, riding a wave that was about to crash over.
When it hit, it was overwhelming. I fisted his hair, thighs quivering as my back arched against that cold bar while wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. He groaned against me, the vibration only intensifying the sensation as he continued his movements, drawing out my pleasure until I was gasping.
When the last tremors subsided, he pressed a final kiss to my inner thigh before standing.
“That’s what I wanted to do the night I kissed you, Tessa.”
Wow. Two years of hurt, rewritten in one orgasm. Who’d have thought?
I stood, smiled, and reached for his waistband, wanting to return the pleasure he’d given me, wanting to show him how much this—how much he—meant to me.
His hand caught my wrist, gentle but firm, and my heart stuttered.
“Tess, I …” The words seemed to catch in his throat.
Something flickered across his face. Fear? Uncertainty? But that didn’t make sense.
“I thought you wanted …” My voice trailed off as I watched him struggle for words. The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unsaid, and in that silence, my hopes began to crumble.
Oh. The realization hit like a shotgun to the stomach. This wasn’t some romantic breakthrough. This was just sex. This was him getting caught up in the moment, maybe finally acting on some long-held fantasy, and now he was stopping before it went too far, before it meant too much.
Just like that night, when he’d kissed me. And after, when he wasn’t caught up in the moment anymore, when I’d reached out to him, he pulled away.
This time hurt so much worse.
“I get it,” I spat. “Just getting it out of your system. Well, congratulations. Consider that box checked.”
He jerked back as if I’d slapped him. “Tessa, that’s not?—”
