Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)(29)

I move my hand from the side of her head to her cheek, resting my thumb at the corner of her mouth.

"You don't make the rules, Clara. I do."

Dragging my thumb across her lower lip, I press it against the center,  at its plumpest point. She opens her mouth, licking me. Oh fuck.

"This is going to be fast and quick, but when we get back, I'm going to take my time with you. I promise."

She nods, licking her lips as I cinch her dress up to her waist, then lift her up by her ass.

"Wrap your legs around me."

She does, and damn, I love how obedient she is when we're intimate. For  all her sass and penchant for challenging me, she likes it that I take  control in the bedroom...or against the wall.

She works on my belt, undoes the button of my pants and then the zipper,  freeing my erection. She runs her palm up and down, and my balls  tighten.

"Put both your arms around my neck."

She obeys immediately. Jesus! Her submission is a turn-on.

Breathing in and out through clenched teeth, I look down between us as I  push forward. The length of my cock is pressing against her slit, my  tip teasing her clit.

"Oh, Blake." She draws in a sharp breath, and I feel the goose bumps  forming on her legs, her ass, which I'm cupping with both hands.

"One day, I want to be inside you without anything between us."

She inhales sharply. "I've ne-never done that."

"Then I'll be the first. When you're ready."

She shudders in my arms, nodding. I feel that primal instinct surge  again at the thought that I'll give her that for the first time. I want  to own her pleasure, her body, be the only one with the right to worship  her. The only one. I want to earn this woman's trust, be worthy of her.

But for now, I secure her between the wall and me as I reach into my  pocket, retrieving a condom-yeah, I foresaw we'd need to get our fill of  each other before leaving. I hand it to her quickly before placing my  hand back under her ass.

"Roll it on."

I'm pressing my fingers into her ass cheeks, parting them slightly, then  pushing them together. She rips the package with shaky fingers, and I  love that I can do this to her, make her tremble in anticipation. When  she finishes rolling, I don't wait one more second.

I sink inside her, and it's all sweet and warm heaven. I'll never get  enough of this, of her. Her inner walls are snug around me, and I'm  losing my mind. She's gazing up at me, not just with lust, but also with  adoration. That look is enough to bring me to my knees. What would it  take for Clara to always look at me like this? To be worthy of that  look?

I become faster, rougher, keeping my eyes trained on her the entire  time, drinking in her pleasure and looking for signs that this is too  wild for her. It is not. She takes it all, succumbs to it.

"Touch yourself," I command. She slips her hand between us, and it's a  sight I want imprinted on my retinas. But at the same time, she grows a  little stiff. My hunch is that she isn't used to touching herself if  she's not alone.

"Relax. Enjoy this. You're so beautiful touching yourself, Clara."

I feel her relax in my arms, even as her inner muscles tighten around  me. I drive inside her faster and faster, prepared to rock both our  worlds. She's so tight against me, clenching again and again, that she  can't possibly last much longer. I move from my heels to my toes and  then back, needing to pace myself, to stave off my orgasm just a little  longer, so she'll finish first.                       
       
           


///
       

When she cries out, rocking her hips into me desperately, I keep her  close, pressed against me, climaxing too. This feels so impossibly good.

Even after we both ride out our orgasms, I'm not ready to let go of her.  I'm beginning to think I never will want to. My fingers press against  the skin of her sweet, round ass cheeks, and I rest my head in the crook  of her neck, wanting to prolong this moment.

"Blake," she whispers softly. "We should-"

"Not yet. I want to be inside you just a little longer." I swallow,  breathing her in, burying my nose in her skin. She must feel how much I  need this-how much I need her, because she simply pulls me closer,  keeping me in the circle of her arms. "Just a little longer, I promise."

I let her go after several minutes, and she rushes to the bathroom.

"My hair!" Clara exclaims. "I look like I've just-"

"Had a momentary slip of passion?"

"Is that what we're calling it?" she asks cheekily. I have the  overwhelming need to stalk after her and kiss her long and good, but  then we'd never make it out of the house, and I do have a lot planned  for tonight. So, I wait for her to freshen up, only going in the  bathroom after she comes out.

When I return to the living room, Clara is sitting on a chair, tying the  straps of her shoes, looking dead sexy in them. She catches me looking  at her.

"You like them?"

I take a moment to regain my composure, pushing away all the dirty  thoughts, because if I voice them, she'd peg me for the pervert I am.  She rises to her feet, strutting along the room, holding the hem of her  dress up so I can see her shoes. The little vixen is testing my  self-control. I close the distance, backing her against the wall-again. I  have to stop doing that. Having her trapped between my arms, looking so  sinfully sexy and ready to surrender, is messing with my mind. I hadn't  realized just how starved I am for her, but I'll have to wait until  we're back to get my fill of her.

"When we return, I'll keep you up in bed until morning. Until then, you're not allowed to tempt me. Do you understand?"

"You don't get it, do you? You're not the boss of me."

A sassy grin spreads on her beautiful face. Yeah... I'm a dead man.





CHAPTER TWENTY

Clara

Come on, Clara, you can do this!

It's seven o'clock on Saturday, and I'd usually be in my bed this early  in the morning-that goes double now that there is a hot man in it. But I  woke up half an hour ago to drink water and had a stroke of inspiration  to finish an illustration. So, I slipped out of Blake's bed and took  refuge in my apartment, working at the large desktop I have installed on  my kitchen table. I'm at the last stage of the process with this one. I  start all of them by putting pen to paper, and then I import the rough  sketches to my computer and use various programs such as Illustrator and  Photoshop to finish them.

From time to time, I lift my head to give my eyes a break, focusing them  on the explosion of colors-pink, reds, yellows-on the balcony. The  dahlias and hydrangeas love the end of June weather.

With a bit of luck, I'll finish this before Blake even wakes up.

"Early bird, huh?"

I jump out of my seat, heart thundering in my chest. "Jesus! Don't sneak  up on me like that. You'll give me a heart attack." Blake is standing  in the doorway to the balcony, which I left wide open. I glance at the  clock. Damn, when did it become nine? No wonder he's awake.

"Another illustration ready?" he asks.

"I was just adding the final touches."

"My offer still stands. I can ask my contact to take a look at your work anytime."

"No, no, that's really not necessary."

Blake cocks a brow. "You don't want anyone to ever see your work?"

"I'd love to share it with others, but I'm not ready yet."

"When will you be?"

"I don't know." I shrug, turning off my desktop monitor. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

Minutes later, I hand him a cup. He pulls me in for a soft kiss, and I  have the overwhelming desire to pinch myself to make sure I'm not  dreaming about all of this. We've spent almost every night in the same  bed since I returned from my trip last week.

"How did you sleep?" I ask.

"Someone slept on my arm the entire night. I woke up thinking it fell off."

I smile sheepishly. Yes, I have the habit of sleeping on his arm, on his  chest. At some point Blake seems to have realized there is no shaking  me off, so he spoons behind me, keeping an arm under his head, the other  around my waist. I've never slept better than when feeling Blake's  chest pressing against my back...and the inevitable morning wood, but  that's an entirely different story. That's the bonus.                       
       
           


///
       

"It's your fault. You kept an arm under me instead of your head. You're quite the spooner."

"It makes you happy," he states with a smile. I swear my toes curl all  on their own. Does Blake know how swoonworthy he sounds when he says  those things? Evidently not, because he's not using his seductive voice  or his playful voice. There is no secret agenda; he genuinely means it.  Which makes it all the more swoonworthy.