Hardwired(80)

He guided my hands to the headboard. I swallowed hard and circled my fingers around the metal rails, my mind hyper aware of every sensation stirring through my body and the physical reactions that I now had to keep in check so as not to ruin Blake’s beautiful gift. He was barely touching me as it was, and I was already writhing with anticipation.

He started low, nipping at the tip of my toe. A jolt of desire arrowed right to my sex. Jesus, he knew every trick in the book. I tightened, knowing he was miles from being there at this rate. He trailed wet kisses up my thigh, over my stomach, diving into the cleft of my belly button with his tongue, languishing over my breasts and my collarbone, blowing warm breaths onto my neck that gave me gooseflesh in a very good way.

“How do you feel?” He grazed my lips with his, a knowing smile lifting them slightly.

Every nerve stood at attention, every cell in my body lurched toward his, as far as these constraints would allow. “Alive,” I whispered, holding on by a mere thread.

“Good.”

He held his cock, lubricating me with my own moisture, sliding between my folds. I tightened my hold on the headboard at the friction over my clit. Then he was inside me in one swift motion. I cried out, fisting my hands around the rail, not wanting to struggle against the metal of my bounds.

His lips were on mine then, kissing me frantically. I moaned into his mouth as he drove into me again and again, with a depth that had me spasming around him uncontrollably. I could barely breathe in anticipation of the promised release. I dug my heels into his thighs, urging him deeper.

My emotions were raw and I was desperate for him. Blake reached up and replaced the second bracelet to its rightful place. Freed from my restraints, I fisted my hands in his hair and kissed him hard. I needed more, the rest of him. Whether he knew it or not, I wasn’t about to let him go.

I pulled away slightly to meet his dark gaze. I needed him to know, after everything we’d been through. “I love you,” I whispered.

He pulled away a fraction to meet my eyes, his own dark and pained, as if those three little words cut him to the core.

“Make love to me. Please, Blake, I don’t want to feel anything else but you right now.”

And for the rest of the night, he did. He loved me with every masterful thrust, reminding me that our bodies were made for this and for each other. We were wasted, physically and emotionally, but Blake never tired. When we slowed, my lazy caresses turned into hungry demands, and he took me again, each time no less earth shattering than the last, until we both collapsed in each other’s arms.





* * *

I woke in the morning to the sound of the ocean. Seagulls sailed through the air just beyond our bedroom window. I crept out of bed quietly to let Blake sleep.

Dressed in his T-shirt, I let his scent wash over me. I padded through the house and helped myself to a banana from the bowl of fruit in the kitchen. I took out my laptop and set up at the dining room table overlooking the water. I started an email to Professor Quinlan, addressing him as such. No matter how much time went by, I’d probably never be able to call him Brendan.

I struggled for the right words to describe the current situation. He knew Max’s history better than most, but I hoped this turn of events wouldn’t reflect poorly on him. I felt compelled to bring him up to speed in case it would. I drafted the message and reread it, feeling overwhelmed anew by the breakneck pace my life had taken over the past forty-eight hours.

And I’d thought college was stressful.

I hit send and clicked around a few sites, landing on Clozpin. The browser’s loading graphic spin infinitely. The site was down again.

Shit. I called Sid. No answer. I called again and he didn’t pick up. I hurried back into the bedroom, hating to wake Blake, but I couldn’t shake the worry.

I sidled up next to him, draped my leg over his, and peppered him with tiny soft kisses. If I was going to wake him up, at least I’d do it pleasantly. He finally stirred, rousing with a smile and a fantastic case of morning wood. As tempting as that was, I needed him for something else right now.

“Baby, the site’s down again. I can’t get hold of Sid.”

He got up, slipped on his jeans, and followed me out to the dining room. He glanced at my screen and fished out his own laptop from his overnight bag, settled on the couch, and powered on.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Please.”

Already he looked incredibly focused, though barely awake, his hair an adorable mess. I figured out the coffee, and while I waited for it to brew, I refreshed the site again. This time it came up instantly, with a large singular logo overlaying the site beneath it. The logo text read clear. M89.