Page 19 of Beauty Becomes You (Beauty 4)
Taking his hand, she led him into the small linen closet and shut the door.
“We shouldn’t be here,” he said as he leaned against the wall. Clearly he’d been holding it together for her sake, and for the sake of anyone watching. Even she felt relieved to see him relaxed, so she could only imagine his discomfort. Easing him, even for a moment, was well worth the risk of discovery.
He stared at her through slitted lids. “What now?”
The challenge in his voice raised her chin. He wanted to push her away, she could tell, but he wouldn’t. He was incapable of leaving her any more than she could leave him. She brushed his lips with hers, enjoying the way he released a pent-up breath. She feathered light kisses from one corner of his mouth to the other before he caught her bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged her, tilting her off balance. She fell into him, but he was prepared; he caught her. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and took over the kiss, deepening it, alighting her with dormant arousal.
The thickness against her belly reminded her that it had been weeks since they’d made love. They would have today, if this hadn’t happened. No doubt they would have been ensconced in his bedroom, lounging on his bed, starving but with no desire to make the trek downstairs for food.
She put her hand to the ridge in his jeans, rubbing firmly. He sucked in a breath.
“What are you doing?”
She smiled against his mouth. “Following through on a promise.”
With long, even strokes, she worked him through the denim. A slight flush of arousal crept up his neck. Between the time apart and his emotional upheaval a few minutes ago, he was already at the edge, releasing soft grunts on every slide of her palm. She squeezed softly, enjoying the way his eyes had gone from tormented to a very different sort of anguish.
Her hand sped up until he was panting against her collarbone, his hips rocking gently into her hand.
“Erin, baby. You have to stop.”
“I know. You’re right.”
She dropped her to her knees and unzipped his jeans. His cock fell out heavy, the head already glistening.
“Please.”
“I know,” she repeated in a whisper. She took him into her mouth, sucking off the pre-cum and licking it up. She paused with her mouth encircling the head while her hand stroked the iron-velvet length of him. His stuttered groans drifted down to her ears, telling her how hard and fast he needed it. Very hard and fast.
Carefully, she worked him in deeper until the spongy head touched the soft cleft of her throat. She eased him out and then in again—farther in until the head pushed through the circle of muscles. His hips jerked suddenly and she gagged slightly. Before he could pull away or reconsider, she set up a swift pace—but she needn’t have worried. He tightened his fingers in her hair, asking for more, needing it.
His other hand was clenched tightly, his knuckles white. She reached for him. As soon as her fingers touched his, he opened his fist and held her hand. Their fingers tangled together, grasped each other, connected in a way more intimate than her mouth on his cock.
“Erin.”
That was the only warning he could manage before he shot warm, salty fluid into her waiting mouth. She swallowed down the copious amount, more than usual. With a shudder, he released one final spurt onto her tongue before sighing back against the wall. Lovingly, she licked up any traces of his cum from his cock before righting his clothes.
Her eyelids felt heavy, her sex throbbing for attention, but she wouldn’t ask for anything, wouldn’t expect it. This had been a gift.
She’d never understood the way some people could say “just sex” as if it didn’t mean anything—sex had always meant everything. It meant trust and respect. Here, now, it meant love. If anything, it was too much, overflowing with emotion until she had to avert her face just to manage.
He turned her chin toward him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
She shook her head tightly.
For a moment, he was still. She felt his gaze studying her, but she couldn’t have said anything. Finally he straightened and turned her so her back was against the wall still warm from his body. Without a word, he unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them down.
“Blake,” she protested. “We couldn’t.”
He raised a sardonic brow but didn’t reply. Of course, they had just done the opposite. Her objections seemed silly in that context, but she had done that out of comfort, both for him and for her. And besides, logistically it was far easier to perform on him than on her. But he had it covered. His hand slipped beneath the elastic band of her panties and down into her wet folds. She gasped at the contact and grabbed his wrist.
His other hand lifted the hem of her T-shirt and tugged down the cup of her bra. Cool air washed over her breasts, tightening the nipple. For a moment, he simply stared.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured, and she felt gorgeous. It was more than the word; it was in his expression and his hands. She felt worshipped. Cherished.
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, worrying the taut flesh with his tongue until she felt a gush of wetness slicken her where his fingers played. He teased her other breast while his fingers found a quick and maddening rhythm. Her mouth fell open and a sharp cry escaped her.
“Shh.” He put his hand over her mouth, muffling her helpless sounds while he drove her higher and harder.
