Fixed Infatuation Page 15
Blake didn’t allow me to respond. He pressed forward and planted his lips on mine. It wasn’t a hungry or passionate kiss like what had happened the other night. This was thoughtful and planned. I enjoyed both ways, and both made me melt into him. Any serious conversation cascaded away with the tenderness of his mouth. His fingers wrapped behind my neck and I sighed into him. The kiss wasn’t long, but it was enough that I wanted many more of them from him.
The date was perfect, and it wasn’t even over. I was coming to realize that Blake was exactly the type I had no idea I could be attracted to. He brought out reactions and emotions in me I didn’t know I had. He woke up a side that was dormant and now wanted to be free. I needed more of him, and despite not having formal communications like I had in the past with men that built into relationships, this was one I stumbled upon and it had been the greatest feeling. When he pulled away, I smiled at him. I’d sincerely hoped this was just the start of something bigger.
Blake
MOLLY. HER NAME KEPT PASSING through my head. What was it about this woman that was making me do everything different than how I normally did it? She treated me differently, she acted differently, she spoke to me differently. Never in my life had I been the type to take a girl on a date. Not unless you counted me going over to a woman’s house, watching a movie only halfway through before they climbing on top of me for sex. That’s as deep as things ever got.
If I’d ever been asked about my family by someone who wasn’t local or had no clue what my past was, it had always been an immediate turn off and I’d kick them out. I didn’t share. Nobody had any reason to know that much about me. They could have whoever I was right then, but some things didn’t need to be told. I broke that rule today. With her sitting next to me, and she had a bunch of wild tendrils of hair flying in the wind, I couldn’t help it. Her pale blue eyes looked even more crystal in the light, and they coaxed honesty out of me. I had no reason to fight her. I didn’t want to push her away. I wanted to give her the parts she was asking for. As long as it wasn’t too much. She just wanted a little. I was relieved she didn’t pry any further.
Now here I was, standing in front of my sink cleaning the clams we’d dug, and she was going through my list of music I had on my touch pad. I’d installed speakers throughout the house that were compatible with wireless audio. She said she wanted to pick something out, so I let her. I was planning on cooking her a linguine with a cream sauce and chunks of clams. It was one of the few things I’d learned to make from my mom. I’d go to that very same beach, and we’d dig for clams for the whole family, and Mom taught me how to clean and cook them. I was sharing another part with Molly now, but I didn’t plan on telling her that.
“You have very eclectic taste in music.” She observed.
I was chopping some parsley when I glanced up at her. “My mood varies. Sometimes I want to hear Sinatra, and other times I want Marilyn Manson.”
She shook her head, totally baffled by me. I was loving her blond wavy hair being down. Which currently was the same color as the shirt she was wearing. It was a yellow top that exposed her shoulders. Plus a pair of jean shorts that showed entirely too much skin for public places. She had on very little makeup, yet her face was bright and full of life. I’d never seen the color of her eyes on anybody else before. They were blue, but they changed colors depending on the lighting and even her mood. She was stunning.
“Well, do you mind if we listen to a little old school country? I see you have no George Straight on this list.”
“Country?” I curled my lip. “Do I look like a hick?”
She smiled. “No, you look like the bad boy who likes to surprise people with a whole category of jazz.”
I nodded and pointed my knife at her. “That’s right, woman. But if you must listen to country, I’ll oblige.”
She clucked her tongue at me. “Shameful really. You know country is the most popular genre of music.”
“Even more reason for me to avoid it. I’m not mainstream.”
She tapped a few times and a man’s voice poured out of my speakers with more twang than I’d ever heard. Immediately I wanted to protest, but when I saw her mouth singing along and her bare foot with red toes tapping to the beat, I shut my mouth. If Molly was this adorable with all country music, she could play it anytime she wanted over here.
Getting up from the couch, she came to stand on the other side of the island. “This smells amazing. Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
I peered up at her. “I’ve got it. Just relax and let the magic happen.”
She grinned. God, she was doing things to me.
“Sorry we couldn’t do this at my house. My contractor didn’t finish my kitchen when I thought he would. And when I asked him about it, he told me to stop complaining.”
Her humorous dig at me made me chuckle. “Watch your mouth, or I’ll make you lay your own floors.”
She rolled her eyes playfully. “I already said I wanted to do them myself.”
“How about this? I’ll show you how I do it, and you can help me cut them down to size.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’ll really let me use the power tools?”
Shrugging, I said, “Sure, why not.”
“Blake Whitmore, you’re learning to trust. I’m shocked.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.” Her mischievous attitude made me want to round this island and lay her out on this counter. She was turning me on and my dick twitched. “So, what kind of stories do you write?”
My change of subject threw her. When she bit her lip, she struck me almost embarrassed to tell me. “Romance.”
I stopped what I was doing to stare at her. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’ve tried my hand at other genres, like mystery or paranormal. But I’m not creative enough to make up this whole new world for my characters to live in, so I try to keep it more realistic.”
“Your characters? You sound like they talk to you.”
She picked up her glass of white wine I’d bought her while I was at the store and took a sip. “They do.”
“That sounds very… schizophrenic.”
She giggled. “Believe me, it kind of is. They all talk, and I have to listen. Each one with their own personalities. But it’s a fun job.”
I decided to poke at her a bit. “So how in depth do these stories go?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are they dirty, like Fifty Shades of Grey? Or are they more Harlequin romance like your grandma used to read?”
Now she was really embarrassed. She ducked her head and her hair formed a curtain around her face. “Probably a little closer to Fifty, but I don’t write about BDSM stuff or anything.”
“So you write sex?”
Her face flamed. “Some.”
I grinned but kept cooking. I wanted her to talk about it more, so keeping the conversation light made it fun. “How detailed do you get?”
Molly put her head into her palms. “Oh my God, Blake. Come on… really?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, really. Is it like ‘Landon kissed her deeply and passionately. Trailing kisses to her naval. When he reached her sweet spot, he spread her meat curtains and devoured her’?”
Her head flew up and her blue eyes were wide. “Meat curtains? What in the hell are those?”
I rolled my eyes. “Use your imagination, Molly.”
“Ewww, that’s not sexy at all.” She wrinkled her adorable little nose, but I could tell it was amusing her. “I think women across the world would detest me if I used that terminology.”
I barked out a laugh. I was more than a little turned on by the conversation in general. I wondered if she’d ever taken real life experiences and used them in her books. Not that I wanted to know about her being with another man. But it was kind of hot that she wrote elaborate sex scenes. It was porn but for a book.
“Is it like using the word moist?”
“Okay, now that’s funny that even you know the
faux pas of that word. Have you been reading romance novels, Blake?”
“Would it turn you on if I did?” I stopped what I was doing and gave her all my attention.
Suddenly the air in the room changed. I gave her a heated stare, and she licked her lips. Both of her hands were now resting on the counter.
“Reading is a sexy quality. One I don’t see many men partake in.”
“In that case, I read all the books.”
She leaned forward and said in a very sultry tone, “Bullshit.”
I watched her mouth as she said the word. Even the very brief glimpse of her tongue was making me hard. She could read me the Declaration of Independence and it would have the same effect.
Shrugging to remain indifferent, I said, “Yeah, okay. I maybe read one book a year. And those are usually ones that tell me what the new codes are for home inspections.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Those are probably about as interesting as my grandma teaching me how to knit.”
“Probably,” I agreed. I’d drained the noodles in a colander and dumped them back into the pot. The food was ready, so I made her a plate and asked her where she wanted to eat. I had a dining room, but in the entire time I’d lived in this house, it had never been used. I typically ate in the living room or right here at the island.
“Informal. The stools here are perfect.”
“Good with me.”
We both sat and started eating.
“This is…” She slurped up a noodle. “Oh my God.”
I was enamored by her lack of words and her sounds of appreciation. I twirled my fork. “I know.”
“No, seriously, this has to be the best linguine and seafood I’ve ever eaten. What’s in this besides the obvious?”
“Family secret. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
She smirked. “Whatever. I’m going to need another plate of this and a container to bring some home.”
I guffawed. “A woman who can eat. I like that.”
She had just shoveled a full bite in her mouth and looked down at herself. “Does it look like I skip meals?” Her cheeks were fluffy with food.
I let my eyes travel down her body. The roundness of her breasts, to the curve of her hips. She wasn’t overweight, but she wasn’t overly thin or toned. Her bare legs were exposed in the cut-off shorts she was wearing. They were slightly golden from the sun. She was perfection. Enough for me to hold on to in all the right places. I peered back up at her and noticed her chest was rising and falling faster. She was watching me take her in. I did so as leisurely as possible while trying to maintain my own sense of control. I wanted to swipe my arm across the counter to move our plates and make her scream. A man could only hold off for so long when he had something this delectable in front of him.
“Everything I see is very sexy. Including that drop of sauce right”—I used the pad of my thumb to touch her lower lip—“here.”
Her eyes flared. Desire was pooling behind her baby blues and I was losing my control.
“Blake.” She barely breathed.
That minute whisper was all it took to snap my self-control. If I didn’t get her naked and beneath me soon, my dick was going to bust out of my pants. My hand dove into her hair and I pulled her toward me. Meeting her halfway, my lips crashed into hers. She tasted of the food we’d been eating, plus a hint of wine. She’d parted her mouth, giving me all the invitation I needed. My tongue swept inside, and I lavished her with every ounce of tenderness I had.
Her small hands had come to my waist, but the deeper I kissed her, I felt her palms creep up under my shirt, so she could feel my skin. As she went higher, I pushed into her. I wanted her to feel exactly what she was doing to me. Her nails casually dragged up till they rested on my pecs. They flexed inadvertently under her touch. I felt her smile against my lips.
“What are you doing to me, woman?”
She exhaled a breath. “I don’t know if it’s me doing something to you, or you doing something to me. But I’m not sure I can stop whatever it is anymore.”
I shook my head. “Hell no. Not this time.”
She was staring at me with wonder. How was it possible that she looked at me like I was perfect? It had been so many years where I’d only known people who knew what had happened in my past. People who judged me, or ones who didn’t give a shit. But this was the first time I didn’t see pity or accusations behind someone’s eyes. She only knew me. The real me. Sure, I had a bit of a bite with her when I first met her. But once she smoothed it all away, she got me, unfiltered and raw.
Picking her up under her butt, I put her on the counter and stepped between her legs. Using one of my hands, I slid the stretchy material of her yellow top down past her left breast. To my shock she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Molly began to lift her arm to cover herself and I stopped her with one look. I shook my head.
“No. No hiding from me. I want to see all of you.” Her modesty was endearing me.
She bit down on her lip and my cock jumped at the sight. Her pert nipple was hard and succulent. Cupping it in my palm, she was a perfect handful. I never minded small breasts, but too large and it was like a waste since I couldn’t lavish the whole thing at once. My thumb flicked over the tender bud and Molly’s head fell back. Her heels hooked around the backs of my knees and she pulled me even closer. I wanted to taste her, lick her, and suck on her sensitive flesh. Bending down, I opened my mouth and sucked on her nipple. My tongue swirled around it and my teeth gently scrapped against her.
She moaned. “Oh my God.” She grabbed the back of my head.
I pulled the other side of the material down, now sitting around her waist, her breasts fully exposed. I’d never forget how they looked the night she tried to put on her showerhead. But she was completely open to me now and giving me every inch of her to take in. My mouth continued to work her, while one of my hands gave equal attention to the other side. My cock was rock hard and it was begging me to bury it deep inside her.
I wanted her naked. Nothing between either of us. But I didn’t want to fuck her here on this counter. While I was more than willing to have wild, crazy sex, the not so caveman side of me said she deserved to be on a soft bed and letting her do whatever she wanted to me. Then again, my self-control was about to take a back seat with her grinding on me.
“Want more?”
Her breathy sounds were confirmation she was enjoying the attention. “Yes.”
“Where do you want it?”
Molly’s eyes were closed and her hair was brushing the countertops with her arched back. I released her breast and put my palm on her throat. My fingers wrapped around her so lightly. I felt the hum of appreciation. She was enjoying the control I had. I wasn’t into BDSM shit, but I enjoyed the feeling of the physical power I had over her. I loved knowing she was comfortable with me giving the slightest of a squeeze to her airway, but she knew I wouldn’t hurt her.
“Anywhere. Everywhere. Just don’t stop touching me,” she demanded.
Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t plan to. “Molly.” I commanded her to look at me. She lifted her head and vibrant blue eyes stared at me expectantly. “Where do you want it?” I barely gritted through my teeth. I wanted her to say it, to use her hands and show me.
Her arm shifted and she placed her hand on her pussy. “Here.” Then she sat up and leaned forward. The air she exhaled as she said the words “And here” blew across my face. She licked my lower lip. Pinching her nipple, I totally lost control.
She made me lose my fighting battle. Unbuttoning her shorts, I yanked them down her legs and threw them on the floor. Stepping back, I looked at her and scrubbed my hand down my face. She was sitting on my counter, with her full breasts pushed out and pink little nipples that were perfect for sucking. Her waist was trim and skin milky white. She was wearing bright red lace panties that gave me a tiny sliver of a view as to what was hiding behind them. She spread her legs and bit her lip. She fucking looked like a pin-up model.
“Molly.” I growled her name. I popped the button on my own pants, and my cock pushed against the zipper. “Bedroom… now!”
She smirked. “What’s wrong with the counter?” She tapped her nails on the granite.
“I don’t have any fucking condoms in the silverware drawer.”
She giggled. It rang in my ears. “Aw, Blake. Can’t take the teasing?”
My mouth thinned. “Careful, you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff.”
She used one of her fingers and brushed it over the cloth of her panties on her clit. She moaned. “You mean this cliff.”
“Mine.” I sounded like a caveman even to my own ears, but she was reducing me to one.
I’d had enough. I stepped into her and bent enough to pick her up and put her over my shoulder.
She squealed. “I could walk, you know.”
Slapping her nearly bare ass, I said, “You weren’t moving fast enough.”
Once in my room, I put her feet on the floor and went in for a deep tongue dueling kiss. I wanted her breathless. I wanted her so senseless with desire she wouldn’t know up from down. I wanted her begging for my cock and me to make her come. She walked backward and the backs of her legs hit the bed. She sat down and her eyes traveled down past my naval and to my jeans.
“You’re wearing entirely too much clothing,” she said.
I titled my head. “Yeah, what are you going to do about it?”
Reaching out, she grasped a belt loop and pulled me toward her. Molly painstakingly took her time, unzipping the zipper and peeling open the flaps of my pants like what was underneath it was a present to behold. My pants were slid down my legs and as gracefully as I could manage, I kicked them to the side. She stared at my boxer briefs.
“Still too much.”
Even the simple touch of her fingers slipping under the waistband caused my cock to jerk. When she finally freed me, I stuck straight out and she admired what was at eye level. I hadn’t expected anything from her besides bringing her in here for me to ravage her and satiate her so much she would be on shaky legs for the rest of the night. So when she opened her mouth and her lips wrapped around my tip, I nearly came. Her tongue rubbed against the very sensitive underside and her cheeks sank in as she sucked. My hand came up to rest on the back of her head, her hair tangling in my fingers. I had no control.