Bait (Wake, #1)(45)

When my hand found her already wet she moaned again and that was all she wrote.

I lifted her up a little higher, and then set her down on top of my greedy cock. I moved into her against the wall like I was trying to push us through it. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't slow. Not this time. I couldn't wait any longer to hear her say my name, to feel her tighten around me.

She moved with me and it only stood to encourage my pace. Every inhale and exhale matched time with my thrusts, until I felt her beginning to grind down harder on my upstrokes.

“Ahhh,” she panted into my neck. “Yes.”

“It feels good. Doesn't it?” She didn't have to answer by saying anything, her body agreed for her. Her hold on me tightened and she arched her back. Her pretty brown hair fell off her shoulders as she let her pleasure overcome her.

She shouted, “Casey. Oh. Casey.”

As soon as I felt her milking me for every drop I had, I couldn't hold back any longer. Simply said, there wasn't anything in the world that felt like Blake coming on my dick. It's the type of feeling that men start wars and write songs about.

“Blake, f*ck. Fuck!” I moaned and my climax shot through me in powerful hot bursts.

She kissed my neck as I stood there holding her for minutes, still buried as deep inside of her as I could possibly be.

She laughed. It was a most-satisfying sound.

“Shit.” I breathed, with my head resting on the wall to her side.

She giggled again. “I know.” Then she bit me.

I forgot that Betty was playful after sex.



We washed up in the bathroom, and I tossed her a long sleeveless T-shirt to wear. It was perfect. The armholes hung down to her waist and anytime she'd move to one side or the other, it would swing wide and I could see one, or both, of her sexy breasts peek out.

I think when my mom asks me what I want for Christmas this year I'm going to ask for a Blake calendar. And a picture of her in that moment would be my July. I hoped I would get a chance at a good photo op for August and all the months thereafter, too.

Before the thought escaped me I asked, “Can I take a picture of you?”

She was twisting her hair back off her neck, the underneath still damp from sweat. “I don't think that is a good idea.”

I smacked her ass on the way out of the bathroom. “Well I think it is a very good idea. Probably one of my best.” I strolled my way to my phone that was still in the pocket of my shorts on the floor.

“Tell me how she got my number first,” she said following me, barelegged, no panties, back into the bedroom area of the suite. “I need to know.”

Oh, yeah. That. She made a good point for concern. Aly picked my phone up and had her way with it. I knew she went through my phone when I was in the shower. I had a weird feeling about it when I found it on the table, remembering that I’d tossed it on the bed. I didn't know exactly what had happened, but I could tell her what I knew for sure.

“I'd like to start with that girl. That girl is Aly. We dated for a while, if you remember when we met, I was breaking up with her? I've known her a long time. She works for Bay Brewing, too. Her father is the owner. Well, I'm sort of going to own part of it too, and so will she.”

Blake sat down on the edge of the bed, listening and paying close attention.

“She was on the trip with me because her dad wanted her to get more experience in front of customers. That was why she was with me. She checked us in and had my spare key. When I was in the shower she came in, found my phone and read our messages. That's how she got your number.”

Her face looked contemplative.

“Well, it isn't my business really. I didn't like her contacting me. She wasn't very nice.” I didn't want to ask her what was said. I wanted our night to stay upbeat and fun. I had a feeling that we'd only have a precious few hours.

“Don't worry about her. I talked to her about it. It won't happen again.” I'd make sure of that.

“You know I can't be mad if you have a girlfriend. It wouldn't be fair,” she said and her face brightened. “Hey, you might be polyamorous,” she said very matter of factly, as she scooted her way to the head board of the king-sized bed. She patted the spot in front of her, her brown eyes looking luminous.

“I'm not polyamorous.” A laugh sprang from my gut just saying the word. It was so out of the blue. I was anything, but polyamorous. “Why would you say that?” I laughed and stretched across the bed in front of her. She leaned forward on her elbows to talk to me. I could see down the front of the shirt.

My old tank was now my favorite article of clothing on the planet.

She bit her nail, one of her tells, “I don’t know. I thought that might help.” She thoughtfully ran the hand—the one she wasn’t using as an appetizer—over my forehead and over my hair. She was always touching the mess on my head. If she only knew what it did to me.

Her body language said she was slipping back into a place where she wasn’t comfortable with her thoughts. I didn’t like it, so changed conversation lanes.

“Did you know that nail-biting is called onychophagia?” I asked, turning the conversation back to a neutral topic. I'd learned that my retention of useless knowledge really did serve a purpose. It relaxed this girl.

“I didn't know that, thank you. You're changing the subject. I wanted to know about your phone in exchange for some pictures. I think that needs wrapping up.” Her blush spread over her cheeks and she looked down at her hands. She probably wanted to bite her nails, although there wasn't much left.