CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Closing his eyes, Blake drew in a long breath through his nose. I could almost feel his relief, it was so profound. When his eyes opened again, they were blazing with an emotion that was undefinable yet made my pulse quicken. “Come here, Kensey.” I pushed myself off the sofa and moved to him. He caught my wrist and pulled me onto his lap. “There’s my girl. So much tougher than she gives herself credit for.”
He palmed my face with his hands and stared at me in a way that made my throat grow thick. The tight feeling in my chest loosened, and the chill that had invaded my body eased away. I felt warm. Safe. Cared for.
“My good thing,” he whispered. Then his mouth took mine, soft yet insistent. The kiss was lazy and wet and intoxicating. There was so much emotion there—Blake poured himself into the kiss and savored what I gave back to him.
He snaked his hand up my thigh, under my skirt, and cupped my ass. And then … Jesus, it was like someone switched the intensity dial as high as it would go, because the kiss turned wild and desperate. My blood raced, and my nerve endings sprang to life.
I had no idea how the hell we ended up on the floor, but suddenly we were there—my skirt hiked around my waist, his fly undone, his cock hard and ready. And then he yanked my panties aside and rammed into me. No foreplay, no preamble, no warning. But I didn’t have a moment to feel any pain from the rough possession, because he pounded into my pussy like he’d been put on the Earth to fuck me.
I held on, nails and heels digging into his back. I felt his guilt and anger in every thrust, but I also felt the force of his relief and possessiveness. When his thumb rubbed my clit and he ordered me to “fucking come,” I flew apart. He buried his face in the crook of my neck and exploded inside me with a muffled curse.
The seconds ticked by as we lay there, shaking and breathing hard. Then he lifted his head and frowned. “How did we end up on the floor?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
He looked down at me, breezing his fingers down the side of my face. “Fucking beautiful,” he whispered. “Love looking at you. Love waking up and seeing you next to me. Love knowing you’re mine. I need you to stay mine, Kensey. You deserve better. More. Normal. But I need you to stay mine.”
It wasn’t a plea. Wasn’t a question. Wasn’t an appeal. It was more of an apology. He didn’t think it was fair to keep me, but he intended to do it anyway.
He kissed me as he withdrew his softening cock. “I was rough. Did I hurt you?”
“Not in a way I didn’t like.”
Rising to his feet, he helped me stand and fix my skirt. He’d just finished cleaning me up in the bathroom—he’d insisted on doing it himself—when his cell began to ring. As he pulled it out of his pocket, I glimpsed the screen just long enough to see ‘Rossi’ flashing there.
Blake swiped his thumb over the screen and answered, “What?” He exhaled heavily. “She’s fine … Yes … Everything … No, she didn’t … I knew you’d gloat. Fuck off, asshole.” Blake ended the call and pocketed his cell. “That was Rossi. He was worried about you.”
“And gloating? What about?”
Blake cupped my hips. “When I took him aside in the parking lot outside the bar, he encouraged me to tell you everything. He said you’d handle it just fine. I thought it might take hours before you could even look at me, let alone talk to me or let me touch you.”
I frowned. “I don’t think you’re like Michael. You’re not. I know that in my bones. I’m not saying your revelation wasn’t a shock or that it didn’t hit me hard. And for a moment, yeah, I thought of him. But it was just for a second. You’re not a sadist. You didn’t get into those fights because you’re cruel and it feeds something perverse inside you. You didn’t torture, maim, and kill your opponents.”
“But I torture Liza in my own way. Isn’t that what Michael did? Delivered justice?”
“No, Michael used that as an excuse for the things he did. And I think, if you really thought about it, you’d realize that it’s not so much about torturing her. She manipulated, used, and hurt you. Took the control from you. You’re trying to take that control back by sweeping the rug out from under her the way she did you.”
Blake lapsed into a thoughtful silence. “Maybe.” He danced his fingers along my jawline. “Whatever the case, you would have had every right and reason to want to leave me. I couldn’t have blamed you for it.”
“I have my own share of baggage. You accept mine. I accept yours.”
He brushed his mouth over mine. “Yes, it seems that you do accept it. And that astounds me.” Curling his arms around me, he rocked me from side to side. Neither of us said a word. We just absorbed the moment. Taking comfort, giving comfort, reconnecting. Blake brushed my hair away from my face and said, “Home. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. His mouth curved a little, but the smile was strained and didn’t reach his eyes. My chest tightened. He’d relived his past hurts tonight; walked down a harrowing memory lane and torn open his wounds to share them with me. It had all taken its toll on him, and I wanted to ease his anguish somehow. Wanted to lift his mood and take his mind off it all. “I have one final question. What did you mean by, ‘You like pulp, right?’ It’s been driving me crazy.”
He gave me a slow, panty-dropping smile. “I’d rather show you.”
“Then by all means, do.”
He stared at me, incredulous. “Kensey, I just offloaded a bucketful of shit on you. Don’t you want some time to, I don’t know, process it?”
“Nope.” I wasn’t going to give any more of our evening to Liza Montgomery. “I honestly just want to know what pulp could possibly have to do with the basement. Show me.”
His fingers raked into my hair. “You amaze me, Kensey. You should be trying to run. Far and fast. It would be a pointless attempt, but you still should try. Instead, here you are, pressed up against me, asking me to take you to a private room and have my way with you.”
“Well, you’re quite the rock star in bed.”
He chuckled. “If my baby wants me to take her to the basement, that’s what I’ll do. As long as she’s sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He kissed me again, greedy and possessive. “All right. Let’s see if our room is ready.” He dug out his phone again, keeping his movements slow as if to give me time to change my mind. I didn’t. He tapped the screen a few times before putting the cell to his ear. “It’s Blake. Change of plan. I’m coming early. Is the room I booked ready yet?” A pause. “You have five minutes.” He ended the call. “You sure about this?”
“I told you, I’m sure.”
“Then let’s take a slow walk to the elevator.”
Once we arrived at B1, he said, “You won’t need a drink.” He didn’t take me to a table, he headed straight for the door that led to the dome and private rooms.
“I won’t?”
“No.” He ushered me through to the hall and came to a stop just before we reached the dome. With a swipe of his card, he unlocked a door and guided me inside with a hand on my lower back.
I gaped as I found myself inside a small movie theater that smelled of popcorn, butter, and salt. There were several tiered rows of dark cushioned seats facing a large screen that was currently concealed by drapes. The only light came from the small spotlights along the carpeted stairs.
“Back row,” said Blake.
With a nod, I headed up the steps to the back of the theater. As I shuffled down the row, I noticed that someone had left us popcorn and sodas. Hell fucking yeah.
As we sat down, the curtains parted, and the screen blinked to life. Moments later, Pulp Fiction began to play, and I grinned. “You know this is one of my favorite movies.”
He spoke into my ear. “Now you’re going to get fucked while you watch it. But you’re going to ride me a little first. Then I’m going to bend you over the back of that seat and fuck you.”
Damn if my pussy didn’t flutter.
“Stand in front of me, baby. Face the screen. Good girl.” Pushing up my skirt, he gripped the gusset of my panties and pulled them down. “Step out of them. Good.” He left a suckling bite on one ass cheek that made me jerk. “Now get rid of the tee and bra, but not the skirt. That’s it.” After setting my clothes on the chair I’d vacated, he urged me to sit between his thighs. “Keep your legs spread. I want to play with my pussy a little while you watch the movie and eat your popcorn.”
Fucking hell.
“Keep still and don’t make a sound.”
Locking my muscles in place, I watched as his hand disappeared under my bunched-up skirt. It turned out that by ‘play’ with my pussy, he didn’t mean make me come. No, he idly stroked it. Petted it. Danced the tips of his fingers over my folds, traced little patterns there, and even doodled his name. As if he had no goal at all and was just indulging himself.
The whole time, he avoided my clit. Still, every feather-light touch made me crazy for him. My nipples throbbed and tightened into hard, painful points. My heavy breathing mixed in with the sound effects of other people muttering, munching on food, slurping on drinks, and shuffling in their seats. You could so easily fall into the illusion of it being a real movie theater with others present.
The longer he toyed with me, the closer I was to losing my mind. It took every bit of control I had not to buck my hips or cry out for more—I knew better than that. My hands shook so much that I almost dropped my popcorn a few times. Blake balanced the box on the neighboring seat and ordered me to keep my hands flat on the armrests. He then went back to ‘playing.’
I wasn’t sure if it was accidental or because my clit was so swollen, but his fingertip softly skimmed over it. I moaned, long and loud—couldn’t help it.
He spanked my pussy. “Quiet or I’ll stop.”
Motherfucker. I didn’t dare curse him aloud, because I knew he’d prolong the agony.
He balanced the sodas beside the popcorn. “Hook your legs over the armrests.”
I swallowed. “What?” My voice cracked.
“Do it.”
I did as he asked, gasping as the cool air hit my pussy, reminding me of the way Blake often blew on it.
“That’s my girl. You’ve been good for me, haven’t you? You haven’t squirmed, haven’t complained, and you only made one noise. Shall I reward you?”
He’d damn well better, but I was well-aware from prior experience that only one answer would get me what I needed. “Only if you want to.”
He smiled against my neck. “So very smart.” He slid a finger between my folds and, oh Jesus, the relief was almost orgasmic. My head fell back as he did it again and again, rubbing against my clit each time. Then he flicked, circled, and gently plucked at it, making my pussy ache and spasm. God, I felt so unbearably empty.
I licked my dry lips. “Blake,” I rasped.
“What do you want?” he asked, voice low. “Tell me.”
I wanted something inside me. I didn’t even give a shit what it was. But I didn’t say that—it would only give him ideas. “Your cock. I want it in me.”
“Nothing would please me more than to sink inside you. But I don’t know if you’re ready for me yet. Let’s see.” He slipped two fingers inside me, and I had to bite my lip to hold back a groan. He hummed. “So slick.” He began pumping his fingers, licking and sucking my neck. “Imagine if someone were to walk in here right now. They’d have a gorgeous view of your pussy—all pink and wet and swollen. They’d see it sucking my fingers back inside you again and again.”
I groaned as his free hand squeezed my breast. My body wanted nothing more than to arch into his touch, but I kept still while he alternated between shaping my breast and pinching my nipple. All the while, those fingers kept on working my pussy, careful not to make me come.
Suddenly, he stopped and withdrew his fingers. “Stand, but keep facing the screen.”
As I shakily got to my feet, I heard him unzip his fly and shove down his slacks. Thank fuck.
“Now you’re going to ride me, Kensey.”
His hands on my hips positioned me just right, and then I felt the thick head of his cock begin to stretch me open. I moaned, needing more. He yanked me down hard, impaling me on his dick in one rough move. And I came. Hard. Loud. Back arched. Fingers digging into the armrest.
He slid a hand up my spine, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and tugged my head back. “I didn’t say you could come,” he said into my ear.
I swallowed around a dry throat. “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”
He chuckled. “That’s true, so I’ll let that one slide. But you don’t come again until I say. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good. Now do what I told you to do.” He released my hair and collared my throat. “And do it slow.”
Keeping my hands braced on the armrests, I began to slowly rise and fall over his cock. His hand kept a firm, possessive grip on my neck that should have annoyed me but made it hotter. My eyes closed at the feel of his long, thick cock slicing through me over and over, dragging over hypersensitive muscles.
He pinched and tweaked my nipple. “Love the way your pussy ripples around me.” He grunted as I gave him a slow, spiral, downward thrust. “You want to ride me harder, don’t you?”
I nodded as much as his grip on my neck would allow. I badly wanted to up my pace and slam down on his cock until we both came.
“But you didn’t try. You did exactly as I asked. And I always reward my girl when she’s good, don’t I?” He sucked on my earlobe. “Stand up and bend over the back of the seat.”
Thighs tremoring, I gingerly stood and then bent over, grabbing the sides of the seat in front of me.
His hands smoothed their way up my ass and back as he rose behind me. “You’re fucking beautiful, Kensey. Inside and out.” His hands curved around my shoulders. “The most perfect thing I own.” He slammed home, driving his cock balls-deep in one thrust, filling me until I thought I’d burst. My pussy squeezed and contracted around him, and we both groaned.
My fingers dug into the seat as he began frantically punching his hips, fucking me hard and deep. So hard that I’d have toppled over if his grip on my shoulders wasn’t so tight. But I trusted him to hold me there; knew he’d never let me fall. And, honestly, I was too caught up in sensation to really care about that or the way the top of the seat dug into my ribs. Each powerful slam of his cock was as perfect as it was possessive, and I was wound so tight that it wouldn’t be long before I came again.
Blake’s body blanketed mine as he growled, “If anyone else were here, they’d see you bent over with your tits swaying and your nipples hard. They’d see you getting ruthlessly fucked; see you taking my cock like a good girl. And the men there … they’d want you. They’d want to come up here and have their turn with you. Some would even want to use your mouth while another fucked your pussy. I think they’d offer me just about anything to have you. Would I let them?”
I swallowed. “No.”
“Even if you had a little fantasy of a bunch of guys taking you that way while I watched, would I let them?”
“No.”
He bit my earlobe. “And why is that?”
“I’m yours.”
“Always mine, Kensey. I’m the only man who’ll ever own you. Touch you. Fuck you. Taste you. There’s only one other person I’ll ever let make you come … and that’s you. Do it now, Kensey, make yourself come.”
Trusting him not to let me fall, I moved my hand to my pussy and found my clit. I rubbed it once, twice, and fucking detonated. The orgasm thundered through me with the force of a storm, unraveling and devastating me. My back bowed, my mouth opened on a silent scream, and my pussy clamped down on his cock.
Blake swore. “Fuck, yeah.” He hammered into me harder, faster, and jammed his cock deep; jet after jet of come splashed my inner walls as they quaked around him.
The next morning, as we ate breakfast at the kitchen island, I paused with my spoon halfway to my mouth. “Blake, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I won’t move at a slower pace just because other people would say we should.” He bit into his toasted bagel. “You’re already living with me. Why shouldn’t we make it permanent?”
“There’s a big difference between a guest sharing your space, and having someone inhabit that space with you.”
“I know. I’m fine with that difference.” He drank some of his coffee. “Why don’t you tell me what the problem really is, Kensey?” His probing gaze studied my face as I ate my cereal. “This isn’t about your neat-freak ways. No, we’ve already established that they don’t bother me and that I don’t push your neat-freak buttons.” Realization flashed across his face. “This is about money, isn’t it?”
“I seriously doubt you’ll let me pay half the rent if I move in here.”
“I own the apartment, Kensey.”
“Fine, I doubt you’ll let me pay half the mortgage.”
“I own the apartment outright. No mortgage to pay.”
Well, of course the rich bastard did. “You’ll insist on paying the bills yourself.”
“And that’s wrong? That makes me a terrible person?”
“Don’t try twisting this.” I shoveled another spoonful of cereal into my mouth. “I’m making the point that if I didn’t contribute something, I’d feel like a lodger, not like it was my home.”
With a sigh, he grabbed my hand and pressed a kiss to my inner wrist. “I know you’ve always been highly self-sufficient. I respect the hell out of it. But why not take a little break from that and let someone look after you for once? It’s not dependency. It’s not using me. It’s not being weak.”
“It wouldn’t feel like my home if I wasn’t contributing to it, Blake. It just wouldn’t.” I shuffled more cereal into my mouth, giving him a look that said I wasn’t budging on this.
Frowning thoughtfully, he released my hand and bit into his bagel again. “Groceries,” he said finally. “You can pay for the groceries. Food is a major contribution, considering we’d die without it. And don’t even tell me groceries are cheap. They’re not. I’ve been paying for my own for long enough to know that.”
It honestly surprised me that he was open to negotiating this. “And if I wanted to buy something for the apartment to put my stamp on it? Are you going to tell me I can’t add my own touches? Are you going to insist on reimbursing me?”
His brows drew together. “I have no wish to control what you do with your own money. I’d never tell you what you could or couldn’t buy. You want to put your stamp on the place? Go for it.” He took a sip of his coffee and then pinned my eyes with his. “But I pay the bills. Even if your next book makes you millions, I’d still insist on it.”
And then I got it. It wasn’t about him being ‘the man of the house’ or that he earned more money than me. It was about control. By paying those expenses, he was in control of his world. He needed that feeling.
Blake rounded the island and came to stand between my thighs. “Don’t you want to stay with me?”
I gave him a look of disgust. “Don’t try to sound all vulnerable and hurt.”
His mouth quirked. “Let’s look at the facts. You already live here, so nothing would really change—and we both know how much you dislike change. I don’t care if you want to add your own touches to the place; it’s your home, do what the fuck you like to make it feel more like your home. I’m saying you can pay for the groceries if you really want to contribute, so you can’t say you’d be relying on me to survive. And you like living here. You like the peace and the quiet and the views. Why give all that up?”
“Stop blowing holes in my case!”
His smile widened. “I want you here. You want to be here. Why fight it? It’s senseless. And really not worth it, since I won’t let this go.”
I sighed. “You have to be sure you truly want this, Blake.”
Now he gave me a look of disgust. “Kensey, how many people do you think I’ve revealed all my shit to? Shall I tell you? None.”
“But Rossi—”
“We’ve been friends since high school and he’s Bastien’s cousin. That’s how he knows so much. No, before you ask, Liza didn’t touch him.” Blake cupped my neck. “I wouldn’t have trusted you with all of that unless you meant something to me. And you mean a fuck of a lot to me. Unless you don’t feel the same way, I don’t see why you can’t agree to live here permanently.”
“It’s just that—”
He quieted me with a soft kiss. “You love me, Kensey.”
My heart slammed against my rib cage. “Where did you get that idea?”
“I see it. I feel it. And if you can’t see and feel that I love you, you’re fucking clueless.”
Disbelief left me at a loss for words. I stared at him, off-balance. Eventually, I said, “I can’t decide whether to hug you for saying you love me or to slap you for daring to even entertaining the thought that I might be clueless.”
“The first. You should do the first.”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip. “You mean it? You love me?”
“I mean it. Would never have said it if I didn’t.” His mouth took mine in a lazy, languid kiss that made my toes curl. “Say it, Kensey.”
My pulse spiked. “I’ve never said it to a guy before.”
Smugness flared in his eyes. “Good.” His hands slid from my neck and delved into my hair. “Say it.”
Nervous, I licked my lips and swallowed. Shit, why was it so hard to tell him? He already knew anyway. I took a deep, preparatory breath and whispered, “I love you.”
His eyes went all soft and slumberous as a smile of pure male satisfaction curved his mouth. “I know. Makes you feel vulnerable to admit it, doesn’t it? I get that. But it doesn’t give me power over you, Kensey. The power to hurt you? Sure. Just like you have the power to hurt me. But not power over you. I’ve told you many times; you’re safe with me.”
He kissed me again, plundering my mouth with so much possessiveness that I felt branded to the bone. Snaking my arms around his waist, I splayed my hands on his back and said, “I don’t like that I have the power to hurt you. And vice versa.”
“Same here. But you know we sometimes will hurt each other; there’s no avoiding that. One thing I adore about you is that you don’t blow and lose your shit whenever you’re upset—there’s no drama. I need that, baby, because I’ve had enough fucking drama. And the last thing I want is a relationship that’s anything like what my parents had.”
I tilted my head. “It was bad?”
“They didn’t work at it, Kensey. If one upset the other, they didn’t talk. Didn’t try to resolve anything. Didn’t apologize. I can’t count the number of times one stormed out on the other, all pissed and self-righteous. If it was my dad who’d marched out, my mother would pack his clothes in bags and throw them out the bedroom window. If she was the one who’d stormed out, he’d take me somewhere and not bring me back until it was really dark.”
“Knowing that, because of her phobia, she’d be terrified for you but couldn’t go looking for you,” I understood. Oh, that was harsh.
“It’s not that I never went out at night until after she died. She allowed it, but she still panicked about it. And knowing he’d kept me out until late at night just to spite her … that always hit her exactly where it hurt.”
As Clear had never lived with a man, the one thing I’d never had to deal with was seeing any kind of domestic argument. It also meant that the most I knew about relationships came from what I’d observed of Sherry and Dodger. They were tight. Happy. Solid.
“If either of us hurt the other, there’ll be no hitting back out of spite,” Blake stated firmly. “No storming out. We’ll sit and talk. We’ll work it out. Yeah?”
“Yeah. But there may be some bitch-slapping.”
He smiled. “I consider myself warned.”
“And I’ll expect gifts if you fuck up majorly. Pretty pens. Notepads. Nothing expensive.” His expression turned a little shifty, and I tensed. “What?”
“I have something for you.” He pulled a box out of his pocket and opened it.
I eyed the black wristwatch carefully. There was nothing flashy about it. Small and compact, it had a strap of silicon. But I could tell it was pricey. “You bought me a watch?”
“Before you balk at wearing this, hear me out.”
That sentence didn’t bode well.
“This is a phone. It has its own sim card and cell number. You can make calls using it, and you can also receive calls—but only from numbers that you preapprove in the account on the App, which means you’re in control of who can contact you.” He pointed to a small button on the side of the watch. “If you push hard on this for five seconds or more, it’ll send an alert to whatever contacts you program it to do so. It’ll also show your location on the App, so those contacts will know where you are.”
My brows flew up. “My location? This is a tracking device?” I couldn’t help but bristle. “So, with the App, you could check my location at any given time?”
He raised one hand, palm out. “It isn’t about checking where you are. You know me, Kensey. I’m demanding and pushy, but I’d never try to take your independence from you. I respect you too much for that. I don’t want to keep tabs on you. I don’t want to invade your privacy. This is about your safety.”
“My safety?” Folding my arms across my chest, I eyed the watch again. “Isn’t this the kind of thing people give to their kids or elderly relatives?”
“Yes, to ensure those relatives can have their independence but still be safe.” He cupped my face and breezed his thumb over my cheekbone. “I need the peace of mind that you can reach me whenever you need to. I need to know that if something happens and I can’t contact you, I have a way to find out where you are so I can still get to you.”
“You think Smith will make a try for me.”
“I’ve made it hard for him to get close to you, but I can’t make it impossible unless I keep you here at all times. You’ll never go for that, and although I’d feel better knowing you were here where you’re safest, I’d hate that we’d given him that power over your life. He vented his frustration on your apartment. He could go after you next time. I need the peace of mind that you can always reach me and that I can always find you. Give me that, Kensey,” he coaxed, brushing his nose with mine. “Let’s be smart and make things as hard for him as we can.”
How could I bristle over it when he put it like that?
“Would you really begrudge me that peace of mind?”
“Would you wear one?”
“If it meant that much to you, yeah. But it’s not me who’s being harassed. Look, you don’t have to wear it once all this is over. Just until we’ve caught Smith. Tell me it isn’t smart and I’ll let it go.”
To my utter annoyance, I couldn’t. “It looks expensive. What if I break it?”
“If you break it, I’ll replace it. But these things are hard to damage. They’re waterproof too. It would be much easier to damage you, and that plays on my mind far too much. Come on, baby, wear it for me.”
I sighed. “Would it mean Rossi could have a life beyond escorting me places?”
“No. Rossi will still follow you to and from work, because one thing the watch can’t tell me is whether you’re being followed. He can.” Blake brushed his thumb along my cheekbone. “Wear it, Kensey. For me.” My resigned, long-suffering sigh made him smile. “Good girl.”
“Where did you get this?” I asked as he put it on my wrist.
“Emma recommended it. Don’t forget we’re going to her house tonight.”
“You sure you want me to come?” From what I’d heard from Sarah, who’d also been invited, Emma always threw a mini house party for Adam’s birthday. By mini, I meant that the only guests were Blake, Bastien, Tara, Laurel, and the two PIs who worked for Emma. Sadly, Adam didn’t have any family. He liked small affairs.
Blake frowned, like I’d asked the most idiotic question. “Yes, I’m sure. Even if Emma hadn’t invited you, I’d take you. I want you with me.”
“Tara might not like it,” I pointed out. “I don’t care what she does or doesn’t like, but you said she can be an ugly drunk. I don’t want her being bitchy on Adam’s birthday. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”
“According to Emma, Tara’s bringing a date.”
My brows lifted. “Really?”
“Really. It’s unusual for Tara.”
“How unusual?”
“She’s never done it before.”
I figured that either Tara had made the decision to move on or she was bringing someone in the hope of making Blake jealous. I sure hoped it was the first, but I wasn’t holding my breath.