Blind Side(71)

He squeezed my hands in his own, kissing my chin until I tipped it up and allowed him access to my neck.

“This isn’t fake,” he swore against my skin, kissing and nipping it along the way. “Nothing between us has ever been fake.”

His mouth was on mine in the next breath, and then I was being carried through my apartment — mostly blindly as I hadn’t had time to even turn a light on. The only one was from above my stove, and it just barely lit up the space, darkness battling with the light in every corner.

Clay was careful as he lowered me onto the bed, and I sat at the edge of it as he backed away from me, taking his heat with him.

With his eyes watching me, he reached for the back of his hoodie and tore it over his head, flinging it to the side before he did the same with the t-shirt underneath. I reached out, my fingertips just barely getting a taste of his abdomen before he peeled them away and sat them at my sides again.

“Strip for me.”

His words were hot, confident, and sealed with intention as he stepped even farther away and kicked off his sneakers before carefully ridding himself of his sweatpants.

He was a masterpiece there in nothing but his black boxer briefs, briefs that were strained as they held back his thickening erection. Clay’s eyes heated more when I grabbed the wrist of my hoodie, tugging it off one arm and then the other before I peeled it overhead.

My nipples were peaked under my tank top, the thin fabric easily disposed of in the next second. I snapped my gaze to meet his when my chest was bare, and his eyes dropped to take me in, a low groan rolling from his throat at the sight.

His hand slid down his abdomen and beneath the band of his briefs, stroking himself as his eyes trailed to where my sweatpants were still fastened around my hips. I reclined back onto the comforter, using my heels on the floor to push my hips up and slide the thick fabric down my thighs, my knees, until the pants pooled at my feet.

“Stop right there.”

Clay advanced on me, taking only a moment to slip out of his briefs before he was towering over me at the edge of the bed. I rested on the heels of my hands, panting, throbbing for him as he raked his gaze over every bare inch of me.

“Up,” he said, grabbing my wrist to help me. And once I was standing, he spun me, gathering my hair in one massive hand and pulling it to the side so he could whisper his next words against my neck. “Wanna know why you didn’t feel anything with him?”

His question was lost on me, because his hand released my hair, trailing down my ribs and hips until his fingertips hooked in the cotton of my boy shorts. One swift pull had them over my ass, and another freed them from around my thighs until they dropped to my ankles to join my sweatpants.

“I’ve been reading your books,” he continued, tongue lashing out to taste my earlobe before he nibbled it. The sound of his breath in my ear combined with that little bite sent chills racing down my legs, and I arched into him, my ass meeting his firm erection that slid between my warm cheeks.

He groaned at the contact, but kept on with his slow torture, hands crawling up my abdomen until he was softly plucking at each nipple.

“I know what you want,” he rasped. “What you don’t want.”

He twisted my nipple between his finger and thumb, a small snap of pain quickly covered by a roll of pleasure as he massaged my full breast in the next breath.

“You don’t want soft, sweet, tender,” he told me, punctuating each word with a kiss against the back of my neck. He trailed those kisses down until his teeth were sinking into the flesh at my shoulder, and I hissed before a guttural moan I’d never heard myself release before filled the space around us.

Clay grinned, kissing the spot he’d just bitten.

“You want possession,” he continued, one hand sliding down, down, down as the other traveled up over my breasts. “You want someone to take control, to ravage you.”

He cupped me between the legs at the same time his other hand wrapped around my throat, and the double sensation made me shudder violently, collapsing into him in the most sincere surrender.

“Shawn is an artist, a musician,” he whispered against my ear, his grip on my neck tightening a bit. It made my next breath a little harder to grasp.

And I fucking loved it.

“But you’re in control of so much in your life — the team, your job, school…” His middle finger slid between my labia, gliding into the wetness pooled there for him before he dragged it back out and circled my clit. I trembled at the feel of it, but he held me steady as he continued. “So in the bedroom, you want that duty to be on someone else.”

I couldn’t verbalize my agreement — mostly because I hadn’t realized it until that moment that he pointed it out, though every sentiment he spoke rang so true, I wanted to throw my hands up and scream amen. But also, because every ounce of my awakening was tapped into his hands, the one around my throat and the one between my legs, each claiming me in equal measure.

“You don’t want to be someone’s muse,” Clay rasped. “You want to be someone’s undoing. And let me tell you, Kitten…” His voice rumbled against my ear before he sucked the lobe between his teeth. “You’re mine.”

I whimpered at the admission, at the knowledge that I could be the undoing of such a powerful, explosive man. Then, all at once, all his warmth left me, hands and mouth disappearing, all but the pressure to spin me around to face him again. I nearly fell with how my ankles were still tied up by my pants, but Clay steadied me.