Hardline (12 page)

   
He brushed his fingertips over my lips, sending a tingle over them.

  
“He kissed you. Did you kiss him back?”

  
I sucked in a breath through my now quivering lips.
 

  
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not in the mood to repeat myself tonight. Did you kiss him back?”

  
“Yes, I...I kissed him back.” The words left a sour taste in my mouth. Why? Why had I let myself wander so damn far? A tinge of nausea hit my stomach at the thought I could lose Blake over that one stupid moment.

  
“Was he in your mouth?”

  
I waited a second and nodded again, the sickness reeling through me now. His touch feathered down to my breasts, cupping the heavy weight of one.
 

  
“What about his hands? How could he resist these perfect tits when his tongue was in your mouth? Did he touch you here?”

  
He gave my nipple a tug, eliciting a whimper.
 

  
“I don’t know. No.”

  
Lowering, his palm skimmed over my belly until he was between my parted legs. He grazed the lips of my pussy, barely touching me.
 

  
“Here?”

  
“
No
,” I insisted.

  
“Did you want him to?”

  
“No.”

  
He slapped my pussy, a sharp motion that sent a shock of pain and unexpected pleasure through me.
 

  
“Truth, Erica,” he snapped.
 

  
“I wanted it to be you,” I rushed. “If any part of me wanted those things, that was why. But I’m telling you the truth when I say I didn’t feel
anything
.”
 

  
“You mean to tell me that he held you in a kiss long enough for Risa to see, with his goddamn tongue in your mouth, and you didn’t feel a thing?”

  
I closed my eyes, hating all of this. Everything was confused, as mixed up as I had felt when I let James too close that day. My throat constricted with emotion.
 

  
“Blake. Please believe me. Everything happened so fast. He caught me off guard, and maybe for a split second, yes, I thought I wanted him. But then I couldn’t stand it. Even believing you were gone, that I’d never have you again, I didn’t want him. I wanted you, but he’s
not
you. He’ll
never
be you. Even if you hate me and punish me, that will never change.”
 

  
My voice was watery as I uttered the last words, the truth that would haunt me to the day I died if he ever left me. God forbid, he’d ruin me forever.
 

  
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why the fuck did I have to find out this way?”

  
I bowed my head. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Blake,” I said, but it was too late for that.

  
“Do you have any idea how furious I am right now?” His voice was lower, dangerously low.

  
I chanced a look in his eyes. They were blurry through the wetness in my own. The lack of sympathy chilled me further. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” My voice wavered, but I was desperate for him to know it.
 

  
“Are you? And will you show me how sorry you are?”

  
“I’ll do whatever you want.” I reached for him, but he stilled me, holding my wrists away from him.

  
“What makes you think I want you after what you did?”

  
He could have pushed a dagger straight into my heart the way the words hit me. But his eyes told a different story. I saw fury there, but hurt too. Not enough to weaken the hard lines of his features, but enough to give me the smallest of hopes.
 

  
“You’re the only one I’ll ever want. Please don’t hate me. Blake, I was stupid and scared. I hate that it happened, that I gave up on us before we could find our way back to each other. I love you. Please...let me show you.”

  
He paused a moment before releasing my wrists. He rose and crossed the short distance to the couch. The swift rejection gave weight to the already heavy sickness in my belly. My breath left me at the whoosh of his belt leaving his pants. He held it in his hand a moment, a knowing look leveling me. My chest tightened, heaving under my now anxious breathing. Unexpectedly, he let it drop to the floor before settling himself onto the couch.
 

  
He unzipped his pants and freed his erection. He began slow strokes up and down the hard length. A different kind of tension rolled off him then, one I could release for him, if he’d let me. Several moments passed as he worked himself up, his gaze never leaving me. I pressed my fingernails into the tops of my thighs. I wanted badly to go to him, but he’d punish me if I moved without his permission. I didn’t dare speak it.
 

  
“Come here,” he rasped.
 

  
Relieved, I moved to stand.
 

  
But he cut me off. “Crawl. I want you on your hands and knees until I tell you otherwise.”
 

  
I hesitated a moment, and then began to move. The carpet pressed into my palms and stung my knees as I crossed the distance between us. My cheeks heated with embarrassment. This position delivered all the humiliation he could have wanted to deliver.
 

  
Nothing could diminish my wanting him, though. I sat on my heels between his legs, as willing as I’d been a moment ago. The engorged head of his large cock disappeared under his palm and reappeared as his hand slid to the base. The tip glistened with moisture. Licking my lips, I could nearly taste him. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than him in my mouth. I could take away this frustration, ease this ache that burned inside both of us.
 

  
“You want this?” Strain weakened his words as his pace quickened.
 

  
“Yes.” I lifted off my heels, my hands resting on his knees.
 

  
“You don’t deserve this. The satisfaction it would give you.”

  
The dagger he’d already lodged in my heart twisted. Like a wounded animal, I lowered.

  
“Please. Let me,” I pleaded softly.
 

  
His breath hissed through his teeth. I bit my lip, my own frustration mounting with the rise of his orgasm. The words seemed lost. Would he ignore me until he came? I slid my hands up his thighs and back down. I licked my lips, imagining his taste on them, the push of his desire between them.
 

  
“Let me please you, baby. I love you. I want to.”
 

  
His eyelids fell closed, his muscles hardening beneath my touch. “Fuck,” he groaned. His head fell back with a shaky breath.
 

  
Emboldened, I placed a hand over his, holding down his rapid movement. A second later he was deep in the wetness of my mouth. I circled his head rapidly with my tongue. My cheeks hollowed with a hard suck, and I took him as far as I could. I shifted and moaned, my thighs brushing together as I positioned myself so I could take him as deeply as I could.
 

  
That quickly he was at the edge. A few urgent shoves against the back of my throat, and he shuddered with a pained groan. He caught me by the hair and held me to him until he’d emptied himself completely, his cock twitching and throbbing through the aftershocks.
 

  
The ache of kneeling and the discomfort of the way he moved me for his pleasure faded into the background as I tasted him, breathed in his scent. From base to tip, I licked him clean. My lover, my beautiful tortured lover. I wanted to be this for him. I wanted to worship him, to serve him. I wanted to be everything for him, even in these dark moments when nothing made sense but the demands of our flesh.

  
He slipped from my mouth, and the sounds of our breathing filled the silence. My breasts were tight and heavy. Moisture pooled between my legs. I wanted him now, as angry as he’d been moments ago. But I fought the urge to show him, to ask for more. I let my hands slip back to my knees, breathing through the desire that surged.
 

    
He raised his head. His face had softened in the aftermath of his orgasm, but his jaw was resolute. “Touch yourself.”

  
Without another thought I reached between my legs. Pulling the moisture of my arousal over my clit, I began a rhythm. My eyes closed. A soft moan left my lips when I thought of his fingers there, pleasuring me.
 

  
“Wish it were me touching you?”

  
“Yes.”
 

  
“Want me to sink my cock into that wet pussy of yours?”

  
“Yes,” I gasped. My belly tightened and heat prickled across my skin. My core pulsed and clenched, wanting to be filled with him. All of him, until all of this madness went away and it was just us, together.
 

  
“Go ahead and work yourself up.”
 

  
A flash of fear shot through me as I felt him move away from me. If he was willing to shun me earlier, what would stop him from teasing me to the edge and leaving me there just to spite me? My fingers worked feverishly over my clit. My orgasm built, and I chased it. Eyes squeezed tight, I blocked everything else out. Suddenly I was convinced he’d leave me unsatisfied if I didn’t get there myself.
 

   
“Blake,” I moaned. His name left my lips like a desperate prayer. He wasn’t inside me, but he was still with me. Invading my thoughts, deeply embedded in any fantasy that would bring me to climax. I kept him close as I clawed at the now empty couch, my hips lifting into my own chase.
 

  
“I’m right here.”
 

  
My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice at my neck. Before I could focus, he linked his arm through both of mine at the elbow, pulling my shoulders back. My breasts jutted out. My clit throbbed for attention. I shifted restlessly, too eager to finish or be finished. His free hand came to my throat, his grasp both gentle and possessive. His thumb rested on the heavy pulse point that beat stronger as he circled the column of my neck.
 

  
“I want to show your body who it belongs to, but I want to hear you say it,” he whispered, pulling my earlobe into his mouth. He sucked, bit down hard.
 

  
I jerked as much as his restraint allowed me. I was wound too tight.
 

  
He soothed the sting with his tongue. Hot open-mouthed kisses down my neck had me breathless and squirming. I pushed my hips back into his erection, silently begging him to fuck me. He leaned me forward, so my chest rested against the couch. His hand left my throat and curved around my front. He slipped into my wet heat, his fingers teasing the hard nub of my clit. I tensed at the contact, the leisurely pace of his touch driving me to the brink of madness.

  
“I own you, Erica. Your heart, the blood that beats through it when I hold you down this way. Your body, the way it moves for me, comes for me. It’s all mine. Say it. Tell me I own you, baby.”

  
I shifted into his touch, ignoring his demand.
 

  
“Say it.”

  
I winced, the fight stirring in me anew. “No one owns me.”

  
“What?”
 

  
Challenge laced his question. Somehow the fire of my desire fed my anger too. I needed to come, to be free of this tension, all of it.

  
“No one owns me,” I snapped, helpless and frustrated all over again.

  
His fingertips left my clit. Gripping my hips tightly, he pushed me back against him, his hard cock shoving against my ass. I gasped, my anger fizzling in the tornado of my need to be fucked.

  
“You’re wrong. The second I slid that ring on your finger, I owned you. Don’t play dumb and pretend you didn’t know it either. You promised me no one would touch you again. Do you remember? I punished you then, and I’m going to punish your ass again and again until I hear the fucking words.”
 

  
He pulled back and moved sideways, and the next thing I felt was the lash of his belt across my thighs. The cry that emerged muffled into the couch when another landed.

  
“Blake!”
“We can do this as long as you want. Watching your ass turn red just gets me hard.”

  
“We weren’t together.” My voice, full of every emotion that he seemed to lack, broke as he unleashed another searing slap against my ass.
 

  
“Who’s fucking fault was that?” he barked.

  
Mine
. The burning heat of my skin doubled when another strike landed in the same spot. I cried out, tensing and shifting away, but he held me too tight. He wasn’t spacing them out. He wanted me to feel this in a way I hadn’t fully before.
 

  
I own you.
 

  
The words wrote themselves across my brain as I took one after the next, tensing until I thought my muscles might cramp. Every one delivered a measure of pain that made pleasure look like a faraway place. Each one seemed harder than the last until I went numb. Tears fell, and the only place I could feel the pain was in my heart, the place where I’d wounded us both.