“It’s in the left drawer on the island. Would you like me to show it to you?”
“The coffee?”
“Yes,” he says. “The coffee.”
“Um...” Watching him run his hands through his hair is something I could do all day. “No, that’s alright. I think I can find it on my own...” I stand there for a few more seconds, telling myself to step forward and end this charade, but no words come out of my mouth.
I turn away and leave the room, sighing as I shut the door behind me. There is no way I can tell him what I really want. Hell, I’ve never told anyone what I really wanted.
I step out into the hallway, but before I can make my way to my room, I feel Blake wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“Did you really come to me to ask about coffee?” he whispers.
“Yes...”
He kisses the back of my neck. “I don’t believe you.”
I don’t believe me either... “You should.”
He laughs softly and tightens his grip on my waist. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want your coffee.”
He lets me go and spins me around, pressing my back against a wall. “Paris...” He tugs on the bow of my slip and looks into my eyes. “Tell me you want me.”
I can’t speak. My heart is seconds away from falling out of my chest and all my thoughts have dissolved.
As if he can sense that I’m incapable of talking, he gently presses his lips against mine, whispering, “Say it.”
“Yes...” I feel his hands slipping underneath the silk and cupping my breasts.
“Yes, you want me, or yes I have to ask you to say it again?”
I suck in a breath as he presses his dick against my thigh, as he lowers his head and kisses my neck.
“Yes...” I whisper. “Yes, I...I want you.”
His lips suddenly land on mine and he loops his arms around my waist, gently lifting me off the floor.
Consumed by his kiss, I wrap my legs around him—murmuring as he carries me back into his room. Without taking his lips off mine, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a condom.
He bites my bottom lip hard before setting me down onto the floor—keeping his eyes locked on mine as he puts it on.
I’m panting, trembling in anticipation, and as he pulls me close again, I tilt my chin up to continue our kiss, but he spins me around and bends me over.
Before I can take another breath, he slides his dick into me—making me scream.
“Is this how you want to be fucked?” he whispers, pulling me back by my hair, forcing himself into me again and again.
“Yessss!” I brace my hands against the floor, trying to steady myself, but it’s no use. He’s controlling this—he’s controlling me, and he’s not letting me set the pace.
As I give in, he grips my waist and slowly moves me upright, never stopping his thrusts. His hands move up to my breasts and squeeze my nipples, pinching them so hard that I cry out even louder. I feel his lips on the back of my neck, feel his teeth digging into my skin, and I damn near lose control.
“Blake...”
“Yes?” One of his hands trails past my stomach—straight to my clit. Using his thumb, he gently circles it as he continues to pound into me. “You said something?”
“Fuck, Blake...”
“Fuck me?” He stops mid thrust. He grabs my hair and tilts my head back. “Is that what you said?”
My breathing is erratic. I can’t get a single word out, so I simply shake my head.
“You’re not enjoying this?” He pulls out of me. “I’m not fucking you rough enough?”
“No...” I try to catch my breath. “That’s not what I mean...I meant—”
I don’t get a chance to finish because the next thing I know, he’s picking me up and tossing me over his shoulder, carrying me into the master bedroom. The one I’ve been occupying.
He tosses me onto the bed, and then he pulls me to the edge by my legs. “I’m not doing this right?”
“Blake...” My chest is heaving. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” He lifts my legs and places them around his waist.
“I meant—” I gasp as he slides into me, as he bends down to bite my nipples.
Staring into my eyes, he doesn’t say another word. He slides deeper and deeper, and with each scream I let out, he squeezes my ass.
There are no kisses, no soft caresses, no sweet murmurs from his mouth. He’s just fucking me.
And I’m loving every second of it.
I moan each time he slaps my skin with his palm, each time he tells me I “feel so fucking good,” and each time he prevents me from taking control.