Blake
It wasn’t supposed to go down this way. I anticipated a gentle walk where she would eventually confess what she’d done at the shop and then maybe I could allow one kiss of those soft lips. Just the one to keep me ticking over.
It’s I who’s the addict.
The need for her, the scent of her skin, the feel of her touch. It itches right the way down to the centre of my being. That must be what an addiction feels like, always thinking about the thing they crave, a relentless obsession.
I want her. I want her exposed before me so she can only be mine, down to the lowest, darkest, most fundamental level.
"Matilda, you frickin dumb dog," I holler across the sand, my call receiving a giant wag of a tail in response. Muttering a string of expletives, I jog towards the useless oversized mutt, hooking her back on the lead, and pacing back over the sand.
I won’t allow Sophia to walk away from me. Not again. It burns in my veins. I’m trying to open myself up, can’t she see that?
No, little miss stroppy pants has legged it again.
It’s all she does. Run. She’d run from me the other night and it ended in a nightmare.
I’m the only bloody person she has right now so quite where she’s running to I don’t know.
I make it back to the farmhouse and shove Matilda in the outhouse, flinging her some biscuits. She gives me the big brown puppy eyes, so I stop and scratch her ears. "I can’t have Mam shouting at me as well as film stars," I tell her, pulling on one fluffy ear with a gentle tug. She gives me a huge wet lick across the palm. Nice. "I’ll come to dry you in a minute."
Shutting her away so she can’t destroy the house with wet paw prints, I make my way into the house. Dusk is drawing and the lights flicker, warming the old stone walls with a mellow glow. I’m heading along the hallway to the rickety old stairs where I guess Sophia has only minutes before rushed up, when Shayne slinks his way around the doorframe of the kitchen. "Trouble in paradise, brother?"
"Shut your face, Shayne." My fist curls but I jam it into the deep recess of the back pocket of my jeans.
He grins and waves a paper at me. "Everyone’s looking for her." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Have you abducted one of the most famous women in the world?" he chortles and my fist twitches, my nails curving painful half-moons into my palms.
Grabbing the paper, I scan the headline. TROUBLED STAR MISSING FROM FILMING.
"She didn’t see this, did she?"
Shayne shrugs and it’s too much. I launch myself and slam his body into the wall. "What’s your problem?" I hiss.
"What’s yours, Blake? When exactly did you realise you fancied a child? Is that why you didn’t come home for Dad’s funeral?"
My fist connects and fuck does it feel good. "You bastard. You know why I didn’t come back."
Shayne tilts his head; his laughter is almost manic. "Do we though, Blakey, or is it the simple fact you’re a dirty bastard?"
I thump my fists into his stomach.
Mam steps out. The woman’s never far from brewing trouble but that isn’t what has me spinning away from Shayne and pushing myself up the stairs two at a time. The click on my old bedroom door, a sound I’d know anywhere after an adolescence of creeping in and out, cracks like a cannon.
It takes everything I have not to hammer down the door and instead apply a gentle knock at the wood. I call out to her. "Soph, can I come in?"
Bangs and crashes meet my question.
Bugger. I’ll take down the door if I need to. They need replacing anyway, so what the hell. I didn’t want her finding out the decisions I’d made in this way. "Sophia, come on, just let me in, we can talk. I thought that’s what you wanted."
She should never have found out about the funeral, and the choices I’d been forced to make nearly a decade ago. Or, if she was going to find out it should have been from me.
I shouldn’t have stalled on the beach—I’d wimped out.
I’m going to kill Shayne—of that I’m sure.
Rearing up for a flying kick, shifting back to give myself enough space to create a force of impact, the lock clicks from the other side.
Everything stills apart from the racing in my chest. It seems much harder to breathe and for a split second I root to the spot, grounding my feet into the worn carpet of the landing. I don’t know if Sophia and I can come back from the conversations we have next.
I fling through the door, her slender shape escaping the wrath of the flying wood.
We stand facing one another as the final bricks in the wall between us crumple to dust at our feet. In her hand she clutches a small bottle of vodka. It’s the perfect size for slipping into a handbag. The shop. Or, down your trousers. Eagle eyes, Blake. Good one.
"Open it. Go on, Soph, if it’s going to make everything better, you know you want to." God, what am I saying? A blazing fury of anger sweeps from my toes to my hairline.
Her eyes widen in shock, flashing with rage. "You’re the one who made me like this, Blake. If you hadn’t walked away, this would never have happened." Her face deepens in colour until it’s a hot pink. "If you hadn’t walked away when I needed you, then I would never have clutched at a bottle in the first place." Her hands wrap tight around the bottle lid but she doesn’t twist the seal.
The truth churns around the room.
I shake my head. "That’s crap, you can’t blame me for that. You were on a path I couldn’t take."
With shaking steps, she thrusts herself into my space, her hard gaze focusing on my face. I feel her breath chase across my skin. "You were my only friend, and you left. You left me to the wolves, Blake. And why? Because I almost had sex with someone? Is that it, is it because you saw me naked with a guy and it made you so jealous you left instead of telling me how you felt?"
My hand grabs for her face, my thumb pressing against her lips so she’ll stop talking. I can’t find any words. We stand, our chests heaving millimetres apart.
A tear glistens on her lower lashes and with it my resolve evaporates. "It’s because I wanted you for myself and it was wrong. I already told you this. I was saving you from me, Sophia, because I’m the predator."
Her lips, still under the gentle pressure of my thumb, fall open, and I graze my touch along their plump edge. "Do you know how wrong it is to feel something for a client you’ve protected since they were a child? How was I any different to the threat I was trying to save you from?" I need to keep talking, have to keep explaining myself.
Her hand rests on the wall of my chest where my heart beats wildly and it’s as if with her touch she unlocks all my restraint. My lips crash into hers, hard and fast, her mouth opening willingly for my tongue to slip inside. I probe and taste with careless abandon, flicking her tongue, running mine along the edge of her teeth. When I pull away, ripping my mouth from hers, I bury my face in the static strands of her hair. Her scent fills my head, chasing away any hesitation and doubt. "You have no idea how much I wanted you in that pool house all those years ago, how much I wanted you the other day in the shower. How much I wanted you right then on the beach even though I was trying to tell myself and you that I didn’t…" My breath is hot in my lungs, like I can’t breathe quick enough to force it out.
A low sob echoes from deep within her. "I don’t want the vodka, Blake, I just want you."
Slowly, I take the bottle from her grip and drop it onto the rug. Sweeping her into my arms I lift her, the hard-angled edges of the last few years press against me and I want to know them all. "Sophia." Her name is magic on my lips as I curve over her, containing her in my hold, stepping us away from the door and my family on the outside. I don’t even care they are there, all I can focus on is her. Us.
My lips skim her throat. I nibble gently, tantalising the warm flesh, as I drown in the scent of her skin. She groans my name beneath me, her fingers clawing against my shirt. Her legs tangle around my waist with a vice-like grip and I know she can feel my arousal. Dark smouldering eyes linger on my mouth and she dives towards me, her mouth meeting mine in a fiery response that kindles a dark oppressive need within me.
I want her. So, simple. I want to be inside her, owning her, giving her everything I have.
My legs hit the bed frame as I stumble backwards. My hands on her hips, smoothing her stomach, running along the delicate outline of her ribs. Then my hands are everywhere, everywhere I can touch. Her eyes flutter closed, and she tilts her head, exposing her throat to my demands. I lick and suck, puckering the skin with my teeth as she writhes against me, her hips grinding against my erection until it hurts and aches in the most delicious pain.
A black curtain of desire falls over my vision. My desire to possess her.
She’s going to be mine.
My breath rushes. "Sophia," I whisper, harsh and gruff, trying to extricate myself from her grip. "Sophia, I won't be able to stop. You need to stop me, please."
I want her to. I want her to stop me almost as much as I want to take her. It’s the curse of the devil splitting me into two halves.
"No." Her fingers work the buttons of my shirt and I hiss a breath as her palms slide against my skin, smoothing around my pecs. Her thumbs run over my nipples until my dick throbs and aches and I think I may unload in my jeans.
"Fuck," I groan, my head rolling back.
I push her onto the bed, my hands ripping at her clothes, drawing them this way and that until all that’s left is pale pink underwear. My greedy eyes trail a path over her translucent skin and my hands wander over the smooth pearly expanse, feeling the shift of her fragile bones beneath the surface. She sighs, raising her hands above her head, enjoying my butterfly soft caresses as I skim my fingertips along the surface of her body. My fingers trail from her ankles, up along the lengths of her wonderful legs, then dart around her thighs, graze her arse cheeks and then sweep over the curve of her belly. She’s slender, wasted almost from her addiction, but there’s still softness there, still a gentle swell between her hips on the places you’d want the thrill of flesh.
My fingers continue exploring and I raise my head to stare in wonder as I brush along the edge of her bra, watching as her skin puckers at my touch as she groans my name. Lastly, I trail up her arms, until her wrists are bound tight in my strong hands. I smile, a slow languorous curve, as I reach down and kiss her. This is happening. I’ve asked her and she refused to stop me. There is no turning back from this point. I grin, I couldn’t turn back if I tried.
"Are you okay?" I ask. She gazes at me though dreamy eyes and her mouth parts, wanton, a direct opposite to the pale pink of her girly underwear. Years ago, she used to tease me, frolicking around in black lacy Victoria's Secret sets. But this, this cotton innocence, is so much more her.
Pulling my head to hers, she kisses along my jaw, her lips skimming along my stubble, filling the air with a faint scratch. I try to hold my weight off her, not wanting to crush her, but also so I can see the swell of her breasts rise and fall.
"I want you to know something," she says, her lips hesitating on their path and I tighten my grip on her wrists.
My eyes reach hers and wait for her to carry on. My pulse thuds and races but I try my hardest to focus. "Yes?"
"I know what those blackmail letters say I did for drugs, and I know what you saw with, well…"
My heart hardens a little and I nod.
"But I never took things all the way, not for drugs."
My body morphs into stone. A rigid statue suspended above her. "But you’ve had sex before?"
She hadn’t when I’d left but she’d only been seventeen. Back then I’d always been relieved her virginity had been in place. But now, at twenty-two I assumed it was gone and in a way, I was pleased. It was another guilt I didn’t have to wrestle with.
"I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you mean." Her gaze watches me intently.
I pause. There’s something there. Something she’s not saying.
Shuddering with repressed desire, I clamber off her and sit on the edge of the bed, my hands running through my hair.
"Blake, why are you stopping?" Her hand reaches for me, sliding up my arm.
"This is wrong. I’m sorry." I’m so sorry I can’t even look at her.
She pulls me back, her nails digging into my shoulder so I have to look at her. "I want it, Blake, you. I just want you to know the truth."
Fighting my own personal battle of restraint, I frown.
The blackmail painted a sordid picture, an image I’ve had seared in my head since before my return—a Sophia willing to do anything and everything for a high.
But, surely that girl wouldn’t wear pink cotton panties? My dick springs up with renewed vigour at the thought of her underwear. Sliding onto her knees behind me she tugs my shirt off my shoulders, sliding her fingers along my skin as she drops it to the floor. Her lips trail along the sensitive skin at the base of my neck, planting firm kisses, and the warm softness of her stomach presses into my back. I groan, rotating the tight muscles and tendons, allowing waves of pleasure to roll off me at her touch.
"I want to be loved, Blake, by you." There’s a truth in her eyes, layered behind secrets and mistakes. Not just hers, I see my own mirrored back at me in her wide-eyed gaze, but I know the only way we will get to the truth is if we dive in and search out those secrets one after the other. Turning, I push her onto the bed and stand, shucking my way out of my boots. When I turn to her sprawled body, there are no barriers left. Her eyes widen as I stand naked beneath her gaze.
"Commando?" She giggles, but a heightened blush picks out her cheeks in the most fucking edible colour I’ve ever seen.
"Only in jeans."
Her eyes fix on my length and my dick almost dances towards her, sprouting forward as if he’s a tempting lollipop.
Kneeling, I reach for her ankle, tugging her until she is close enough for me to prize her knees apart. She resists, embarrassment pinching her legs together, but I maintain a steady pressure, sweeping forward and teasing her mouth with my tongue until she sighs and loosens her resolve. Then it’s skin on skin, fingers in hair: scratching, pulling, kneading, and I lose myself. Her underwear’s on the floor before I clear the haze of lust and I see her in all her exposed beauty: hair tousled, lips bruised and puffy. Gently, careful not to hurt her, I lower myself, shifting until she is writhing under me, her hips bucking with need for me to push inside. I don’t though. I hold myself still, trailing warm kisses along her throat to her chest, snatching a pebbled nipple between my lips, rolling it around my tongue until it becomes a stiff bud. She squeals with delight and the sound does something to my insides, twisting and turning them. I knead and tease the firm flesh, alternating my kisses to keep both nipples erect and her writhing beneath me. When I lower my hands, gliding them down her taut stomach my fingers meet a warm pool of creaminess. Fucking heaven. Stroking and smoothing, I circle her clit with my thumb, round and round, applying gentle pressure until she’s burrowing her face into my shoulder.
"I’m going to come," she ducks with her cry, her entire body stiffening with her outburst, and I carry on delving and pushing my fingers deep inside her until the rigid hold of her limbs melts into a limp hold and she comes apart, splintering into a thousand pieces around me. I want to gather every single piece up, they are all mine.
Removing my hand from her darkest places I shift my hips so my tip brushes against her sensitive opening. She sneaks a hand between our bodies and I guide it down until she wraps slender fingers along my shaft, squeezing with a firm pressure as she pumps her palm up and down. Shit, her touch is enough to make me explode and I’m all at once fire and ice as I struggle to keep control. I pull her hand away, my erection throbbing. Slowly, because any faster and I will come undone at an embarrassing rate, I slip deep inside her. She tilts her hips until I’m thrusting a slow push inside her deep, creamy core. She fits me perfectly, her walls stretching to take me to the hilt. Warm and soft it’s like sliding into heaven. Her arms fling tight around my neck and she tilts her hips higher still, giving me yet more space to fill.
A strangled cry pulls my attention to her face. "Are you crying?" I lift my head to gaze at her, we are clinging to one another like life rafts.
She throws her head back, her eyes dancing. "No, you idiot. I’m going to fucking come again."
I push, harder and faster, thrusting deeper and further, feeling her wrap herself around me tight like a ball of string. My face is buried in her neck, my hips bucking like a rodeo when the hot sensation in the pit of my stomach spreads into an all-out fire. I shout her name, singing it with the full force of my lungs as I drag against her skin with my fingernails, owning every single inch of her, and I don’t give a fuck who hears.
She’s mine.