“Why do you care?” I stall, not wanting to share that part of me.
“Answer me,” he orders.
“Winkler.” As soon as the words slip from my tongue, I feel more exposed to him than ever before. I feel naked. “Why did you want to know that?”
The world seems to stop spinning on its axis, suspending all movement as I await his answer. He leans down to whisper in my ear, his lips grazing my neck infuse my body with warmth, “I like the real Blaire … it’s her I want.” His voice is as rough as sand paper and his breath as soft as a butterfly’s wing, making my stomach flutter.
Nodding, our eyes connect and remain locked as I wrap one hand behind his neck, bringing his face closer to mine, and let the other continue to slowly rub his erection. As the fabric of his dress pants grazes the skin of my palm, wetness gathers between my legs. Yeah, I want him too. Badly.
“Take me to your room, Lawrence.”
His green eyes spark with light, with heat … with life. “Your parents were fools. I notice you. I see you. And right now that’s enough.”
HIS GAZE UNWAVERING, HE RAISES A HAND and lets the back of his fingers trace the curve of my cheeks, my jaw, and my lips. A pleased Lawrence nods, a seductive smile appearing on his manly face. Without saying a word, he helps me stand and guides us through the white hallways of his house to his bedroom. We walk past more abstract paintings, modern sculptures, and Chinese vases filled with white orchids on antique looking tables. The only sound filling our ears is the clicking of my heels.
My hands sweat.
My pulse skyrockets.
This is it.
But as we near Lawrence’s room, what seems to be a faraway memory washes through me, and it’s Ronan’s voice that I hear loud and clear …
“Why me, Ronan?”
“Because when I look at you, I see everything I want and everything I need.”
My chest contracts, but I won’t let thoughts of Ronan and our time together foil what’s about to happen. I lock those thoughts away in a deep, dark place. I’m here to sleep with another man. I’ll finally be able to put him in my past—where he belongs.
When we’re standing inside Lawrence’s bedroom, I notice that it’s quite neat. There are no piles of clothes thrown over a corner or draped over the brown leather armchair by the window. A large and seemingly comfortable bed covered in steely gray sheets is situated in the middle of the room. As I glance around, taking in every single detail from the gilded mirror on the left to the dark gray walls covered in more paintings, I notice a book left open and lying dormant on the nightstand.
I step away from the door, letting my fingers graze the expensive furniture. The opaque espresso colored wood feels cool to my touch and the black curtains feel like dark heaven in between my fingers.
Curious to see what he’s reading, I walk toward the nightstand. About to reach for the book I hear him recite a poem about spring and cherry trees that I also know by heart.
Pleasure settles deep within my chest as I turn in his direction and smile for the first time since we left his study. He’s propped lazily against a tall dresser, watching me with eyes that shine so bright in the semi-dark room as he rubs his chest, almost as if it’s his cock in his hand.
“Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda. One of my favorite poets of all time.”
He smiles, nodding in the direction of the book. “I didn’t peg you for a poetry kind of girl.”
I shrug, trying to appear careless. “Since I had no one growing up, books became my friends, my passion. And poetry … poetry makes me understand myself.”
Running a hand through my hair, I watch as Lawrence closes the space between us in two strides. He leans down and cups my face in his hands. His touch is sure and commanding, and I love it. “I’m done talking, Blaire. Get on your knees.”
When our gazes collide, a mutual gravity pulls us together and the result is explosive—light obliterating. A battle of power and wills with no winner in sight because it seems that we both like playing this game too fucking much. I get down on my knees in front of him, looking up as I watch him unfasten his black leather belt, loosen the button of his pants and unzip them slowly. He frees his already hard cock and gives it a couple pumps, giving me the opportunity to take in the sheer size and beauty of his magnificent erection.
My mouth waters.
Blood rushes to my brain, muddling my senses.
My cheeks feel hot. My pussy pulsates with life, with want.
“Open wide.” He grips my chin, raising it slightly and caressing my lower lip. “I’m going to fuck your mouth now.”
His words might be an order, but it’s me who has the control at this moment. It’s me who chooses to reach for his cock and wrap both of my hands around it as I caress his length. I lean in, put him inside my mouth and give him a long suck, my tongue tracing the pulsating veins. When my lips are wrapped around the hot silky skin of his dick, Lawrence closes his eyes, looking like he’s dying a delicious death. I pull him out and lick the head, tasting the salty flavor of his pre-cum as I hear a deep groan being torn from his chest.
The animalistic sound drives me insane. It’s the fuel that lights my insides with shameless desire. Need and want fill my every pore. My knees burning, I bring a hand inside my thong and rub myself, spreading the moisture of my body along my swollen clit. Lightheaded with pleasure, I push him deeper until my lips touch his balls.
He takes his suit coat off and throws it on the floor. His tie and shirt next, his eyes watch me fuck myself with my fingers while I suck him like my favorite lollipop.
“Goddamn, Blaire.”
He wraps his hands in my hair and thrusts harder and harder. Lifting his hips, he drives his cock farther into my mouth, fucking my mouth, owning my mouth, and I take him. I take him until I choke and pull him out, breathing heavily. After I wipe my chin off, I taunt him as I let the tip of my tongue trace the contour of his cock. “Is that all you’ve got, Lawrence? Stop being such a fucking gentleman and fuck my mouth. Make me want to fuck you like an animal. Use me.”
“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s enough.”
Lawrence helps me up, and I watch the way his cock shines, wet from my mouth. Knowing what he tastes like, sweet musk and salty sweat, makes me want him even more.
I need to feel him inside of me, so I reach out for him with my arms. “Stop staring at me, and fuck me.”
He stops me with his hand. “No. Take this off first,” he says gruffly as his finger caresses the material covering my shoulders. “Let me see you.”
As soon as his request infiltrates my ears, the small hairs on my arms stand up. Staring at him, an inferno in his eyes they burn so brightly, I push the dress off my shoulders. I feel the dress slip from my arms and torso down to the floor, leaving me completely exposed to Lawrence’s appraisal. In nothing more than a simple yet elegant black lacy thong, I stand there watching him watch me as he grabs his length and begins to stroke himself, admiring my body.
He’s not the only one.
As he fucks his own hand, I absorb his unforgiving beauty. If I thought he was perfection wearing a suit, a naked Lawrence is magnificent. Wide and strong shoulders meant to carry the world. Perfectly toned muscles to pick you up and fuck you against the wall. Skin the color of honey. And his beautiful cock.