Blake’s body tightened. “I’m going to come,” he warned. His breath came out in short pants; a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his skin.
In response, Farrah took him deeper in her throat. She wanted to taste him, devour him, love him. She wanted all of him.
Blake’s back arched and his grip tightened as he came in her mouth. Farrah lapped up every drop, milking him dry until he collapsed back onto the bed.
She couldn’t hold back a smug smile as she slid up his body and pressed a kiss to his neck.
“Holy shit,” he groaned. He ran his fingers through her hair and stared at her with so much love it made Farrah’s heart ache. No one had ever looked at her like that before. It scared the shit out of her, but the thought of losing him scared her more. Farrah snuggled closer to him, comforted by the solid feel of his body against hers. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“In French, they use the term la petite mort, ‘the little death,’ as a euphemism for orgasm, so you’re technically correct.”
Blake’s laugh reverberated through her, making her smile. Farrah loved his laugh. It was rich and comforting, like a cup of hot chocolate on a snowy winter day.
She trailed her fingers over his chest and the hard ridges of his abdomen. To her surprise, Blake stirred against her. “How is that possible?”
He didn’t bother hiding his cocky grin. “Stamina, baby. I got lots of it.”
Farrah’s arousal spiked again. She remembered how he felt in her mouth. Now she wanted to feel him inside her, filling her until she lost all sense of time and space.
“Do you have a condom?” She reached for him, her heart pounding with excitement. Finally. She was going to—
Blake grasped her wrist and flipped her over so she was the one lying on her back again. “Not yet. I have a favor to return.”
Unease unfurled in her stomach. “It’s ok. You don’t have to.”
“Any guy who doesn’t is a dick. Do I look like a dick to you?”
“Well.” Farrah flicked her gaze down.
His chest rumbled with more laughter. “We’ll get to that later. In the meantime…” He skimmed his lips over her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, her shoulders, and her breasts, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Farrah closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sensation of his touch. Still, a corner of her mind remained alert, anxious, worrying and wondering whether this time would be any different.
Blake’s mouth closed around her nipple, tonguing it, while he rolled the other between his fingers. Farrah gasped at the sensation. The ache between her legs intensified, and she dug her nails into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped indentations in his skin.
If it hurt, Blake didn’t show it. He sucked hard on her nipple, then released it with an audible pop. He blew on the sensitive, swollen tip, which hardened even more from the cool air. He repeated this process on the other side, alternating between her breasts until Farrah squirmed with need.
“Blake, please,” she begged.
“Please what?” He eased her shorts and underwear down her legs and slid a finger between her slick folds. He groaned. “Jesus, you’re dripping.”
She was. Farrah had never been more turned on in her life. Her thighs were slick with her juices; her sex clenched as if she needed something—someone—buried deep inside her.
“Please. I need you.” Her whimper turned into a moan when Blake rubbed his thumb over her clit. Her hips bucked, seeking relief.
“You have me.” Blake replaced his hand with his mouth.
Farrah’s head fell back. Every scrape of his tongue against her sensitive flesh caused a bolt of sensation to sizzle through her. It was enough to turn her body into one giant nerve ending, raw and pulsing with need; it wasn’t enough to quiet the voices. They whispered in her mind, raising doubts about her body, about whether Blake enjoyed what he was doing or if he was doing it because he thought he had to. About why she teetered on the edge but couldn’t bring herself to step over.
She clutched the sheets so hard her knuckles turned white. She didn’t have this issue when she was alone. Farrah could bring herself to orgasm every time, so she knew it was possible. It just wasn’t possible with a guy.
Maybe it’ll be different with Blake. She felt more connected to him than with any guy in her past, and Lord knew he was talented. The things he was doing with his mouth…
Farrah cried out when he sucked on her clit and flicked his tongue over the most sensitive spot on her bundle of nerves.
It. Was. Incredible. But it wasn’t enough.
She tried to will her body past the finish line. It shouldn’t be hard. She was so aroused she might explode, except she didn’t. She remained on the razor’s edge, held back by some force that didn’t want her to fall. Her body craved relief, yet wouldn’t give it to her.