Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)(39)

I'm reminded of a feline on the prowl, shoulders moving in a rippling  pattern as he moves on the bed. His eyes lock on my center.                       
       
           


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"Beautiful, you're so ready for me, and I haven't even touched you."

Licking my lips, I part my legs wider. He moves between them.

"Put your hands under your knees. Lift your legs."

Heat trickles down my inner thighs at his command. Oh my. Lying on my  back, I place my fingers behind my knees, lifting one leg, then the  other.

He settles between my open legs, my calves rubbing against his granite  forearms. A shudder courses through me when he slides his crown up and  down my folds, coating himself in my arousal. He pushes in, just an  inch, and it's like he lights a fire inside me.

"Pull your legs closer up."

He slides in at the same time I move my legs, and-

OhGod OhGod OhGod...The angle changes the closer I bring my thighs to my torso, and the deeper I take him in.

When he's inside me to the base, his balls slap along the crack between  my ass cheeks, making my legs quiver. Pleasure strums through me, sharp  and unexpected.

"You like this, Clara?"

"I love it. Please move."

Since my legs are suspended, I can't move myself, or I'd be rocking  against him. He smiles wickedly, and I realize how completely he owns me  right now. My pleasure is all in his power. Slowly, he rocks in and  out, and I moan in relief.

Keeping his hands at the base of my inner thighs, Blake loves me deeper  and more urgently by the second. Each time I think my bliss can't  ratchet any higher, he proves me wrong. I feel on display more than  physically right now. No one's ever known me the way Blake does:  intimately, sentimentally, in all ways. When an unbearable pressure  takes hold of my lower body, I need to touch my clit more than I need my  next breath. I let go of one leg-

"Don't move your hands."

"Then touch my clit, please. Blake, I need this so badly," I pant, the  force of his thrusts no longer bringing me pleasure, but more intense  longing. I desperately crave my release. Blake brings one hand to twist  one nipple lightly, then the other. My breasts move with each thrust,  and as a drop of sweat from his forehead lands above my navel, he lowers  his hand to my clit. I spoke too soon-

He circles his thumb around my clit. Oh, God no. I can't take more  build-up. Every breath comes out shaky. My entire body quivers.

"I need to come Blake, please."

"I like hearing you beg."

He strokes directly over my clit once, and I erupt. Blake leans over me,  covering my mouth with his, intertwining his fingers with mine. I come  so hard I nearly fade out, but I cling to this moment for dear life  because I don't want to miss even one second of this incredible  closeness, and I want to watch Blake come. As he pulls away from my  mouth, his handsome face contorts with pleasure, a blue vein bulging  along his throat. I press my heels against his ass on every thrust.

When I feel him widen inside me, I push myself up a tad, kissing him,  muffling the sound of his climax like he did to me seconds ago, keeping  my eyes open and soaking in all the goodness of this moment.

After he removes the condom and we clean ourselves, we lie in bed on our sides, watching each other.

He grips my right hip in that deliciously possessive way of his. "I  needed you so badly: your voice, your warmth... and that's so new to me.  You make everything right. Thank you for being here for me tonight."

"I'll be here for as long as you want me to. Let me be your anchor tonight, Blake."

Blake makes a rushed sound, like a sharp intake of breath. He locks his  gaze on mine, his fingers pressing into my flesh a notch deeper.

"What if I want you to be my anchor for more than tonight?"

My pulse speeds up, my chest filling with warmth, and hope floods me.  Hope for so many things: a life together, going to bed next to him every  night, waking up with him still by my side. Raising a family  together-maybe one as numerous as his own. Damn, what's wrong with me?  The man is not proposing. But he is putting himself out there, giving me  a piece of himself he was holding back.

"Anytime you need me to be." My voice catches at the end, and I bite  down on my lip as I make the decision to go out on a limb, even further  than he went. It feels like I'm putting my heart on a platter and  handing it to him, like I'm giving him complete power over me. But I  feel brave, and I think he needs to hear it.

"I am going to tell you something, and I don't expect you to say it  back. I don't have any expectations at all, but I want you to know. I  love you, Blake. Truly and deeply, and these feelings I'm having...they  won't go away. I know we agreed on "no labels", so...."

He gently cups the side of my face, his thumb tracing my lips, as if he  can barely believe the words that came out. He opens his mouth but I  cover it with my hand. I don't want him to feel pressured, or to think  this is an ultimatum of some sort.                       
       
           


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"Don't say it back or I'll think you're saying it because I said it."

I feel his lips curl in a smile against my palm, and I drop my hand.

"What's the appropriate time to wait so you don't think I'm saying it because you said it?"

Nope, totally not imagining how our kids might look. Also not imagining  how cute his dimple and rich hair would look on a boy. Keep your feet on  the ground, Clara. Easier said than done when the rest of my body feels  airborne.

"I don't know. A day? A week?"

"Have I told you how amazing you are?"

I swear my heart doubles in size. It will explode soon. "I believe you  have, but feel free to tell me that again. You can add smart and cunning  while you're at it."

"How about chatterbox?"

"Only if I can make free use of Blakealicious."

"Ouch. Fine, waving the white flag here. We'll just be silent, and I'll hold you until you fall asleep."

He nods, opening one arm, beckoning me to snuggle up to him.

"You like to spoon. Admit it."

"Never."





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Clara

"Please take a seat, Ms. Abernathy. We'll call your name when it's your turn."

I drop in a plastic chair at my gynecologist's practice, pulling out my  phone and checking my e-mails. Job hunting is a stressful endeavor, and I  honestly hadn't thought it would last so long. I went to more  interviews than I could count, and still have a ton scheduled. But the  cherry on the top? I applied for the illustrator job Charlie talked  about, and after reviewing my portfolio, they asked to meet me  face-to-face next week, and as part of the process, I have to do a  custom illustration for them. I am really trying not to get my hopes up,  but I'm failing miserably. I'm also working tirelessly on said  illustration. If I'm fighting for my dream, I'd better do it at full  speed.

"Ms. Abernathy, you can go in."

Right. It's high time I switched to pills for birth control. Blake was  absolutely enthusiastic when I told him. I stride into her office with a  big smile. After all, today I'm here just for a prescription for birth  control. I'm not up for my yearly checkup yet. It's mid-August now, and I  got my who-ha checked in April. Visits to the gynecologist are my least  favorite. I mean, going to the doctor is never pleasant, but something  about having someone look into my who-ha is unnerving.

"Clara, nice to see you." She shakes my hand, welcoming me into her  practice, pointing to the seat in front of her desk. She's a petite  woman in her forties with a sweet and calming demeanor.

The one thing I love about her practice is that it doesn't smell like a  hospital. I can imagine I'm in an office, right until I have to drop my  panties and spread my legs, but with some luck, I won't have to do that  today.

She sits behind the desk, looking at my file. "You were here four months ago. Anything wrong?"

"Oh no. I just want some birth control. I've only been using condoms until now."

She smiles sweetly, closing the file. "Sure. Do you know what you want?  Or should we go through all your options? There are pills, IUDs. I have  to tell you right off the bat that none of them is one hundred percent  certain, but then again, neither is the condom. You get about  ninety-nine percent certainty."

I laugh nervously. "I think that's enough. I want pills."

She nods, picking up a pen and pulling a small notebook from under a  stack of papers. I make a mental fist pump. This will be a record short  visit. Then she puts the pen back down. Damn it. So close.

"We need to do a urine test before."

"Oh, okay."

Fifteen minutes later, she looks at the results of the test and smiles.