Behind the Courtesan(29)
Before Sophie could fill the space with more nervous chatter, Blake pressed his mouth to hers and she forgot every moment that had come before the perfectness of this one. It was almost as if he poured his very heart into the kiss.
Together they stepped back, little tiny steps so as not to break contact. Her hands were everywhere as she traced the contours of his shoulders, his back, his neck. His hands moved over her hips, over her buttocks to tighten on her thighs, to lift her so she straddled his sex where they stood. God, he was strong. “Wait,” she managed between drugging kisses. “I want to see...”
“You’ve seen it all before,” he groaned.
Sophie pushed against his chest until she was back on her feet. “Humor me.”
With fast jerky movements, Blake ripped the robe from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. “There, happy now?” he teased, his tone impatient.
“Not yet.” She stepped forward again, her gaze low as her hands skimmed the muscles of his stomach until they reached their goal. As lightly as she could with her fingers still numb with cold, she stroked and then cupped him. Her other hand, she wrapped around his length and tightened her grip.
“Wait,” he murmured, his voice tight with tension. “It’s not fair for me to be naked and not you.”
“I would never want to be accused of unfair play.”
Blake chuckled as he reached for her hem, the last barrier between them and certain pleasure. It was also the last barrier between friends and lovers. Sophie wanted it gone. She lifted her arms.
Her chemise landed on the floor by the door with a slap, but they both ignored it. Blake’s hands rose to mold her curves from her hips up to her breasts and back to her bottom. His callused palms did scratch, but they only served to heighten the moment, to increase the urgency, her response was instantaneous. She wrapped her arms around his neck again and pulled him until their lips crashed at the same time their bodies did. Furious need drove her as she all but climbed his body until she once again straddled him, his hands on her bottom to hold her up as he walked the last few steps toward the closest wall. Her back slammed into the cold timber and she laughed.
“God, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Blake went to pull back, but Sophie tightened her legs, linked her ankles and nipped his bottom lip. “I’m not going to break. I can handle anything you throw at me.”
His mouth curved into a smile of challenge. “Anything?”
“Give it your best, I promise I can keep up.”
With a flex of his fingers, he parted her, pulled back and eased in until she felt so filled with him, so complete it was almost scary.
A moan crept from her lips and her head fell back.
“Are you still with me?” he asked, fingers tightening, kneading, stoking the fire, the lust between them.
“Mmm-hmm. I think so.” She gave a wriggle and took him even deeper. “Good God.”
He chuckled, but when she finally met his gaze, the strain was evident. He was holding back, holding still, protecting her.
“Too late to retreat,” she whispered.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Blake shook his head and withdrew a fraction. “But I think we would both be more comfortable on the bed.”
Before she could argue, he swung her around and, as one, they dropped to the warm quilted top. As he leaned on his hands over her, the fire light glistening over his body, Sophie felt her first hint of panic. He was so big, he blocked out the rest of the room as his muscles corded and bunched beneath her hands as she ran them up and down, from shoulder to wrist and back again. Much the same as he did to her.
When her gaze lifted to his, he watched her, intent, unnerving. He didn’t move at all, not even a twitch. “What is it?”
“Nothing, I...” She shook her head to dispel the awful memories trying to push through the lust.
“I would never hurt you Sophie, if you want to stop, you have only to say the word.”
She linked her ankles tighter. “I don’t want you to stop, it’s just...I...”
“Spit it out, woman.”
She glared up at him. “I am always on top.”
His brows rose in question, but she shook her head. “But I actually quite like it here.”
“Only like?” came his reply. “Perhaps I need to try harder?” He withdrew almost all the way and then eased back in.
Once again he stopped her answering words with his mouth and this time she let him. Slowly, so slowly it almost hurt, he withdrew and then slid back in, the friction causing a slow burn inside her as he repeated the action over and over.
In her hazy mind, she realized he was making love to her. This was no furious coupling such that her body wanted. He was going to take his time and drive her crazy. Tears burned her eyes so she closed them, moved with him, against him. After a few minutes of the sweet torture, her body screamed for release and she needed to take control. Tensing her legs and arms, she pushed until he rolled, taking her with him.
“My methods don’t please you?” he asked with a naughty twinkle in his eye.
She leaned down and kissed him, nipped his jaw, licked the side of his neck, all the while pushing down and grinding her pelvis against his. “You might like things my way.”
She lifted, her inner muscles tensed, and then she sank down. If he could tease her by taking it slow, she could do the same.
He sat up, wrapped his arms around her and took a hardened nipple deep into his mouth, flicking the peak with his tongue until she was sorry she didn’t beg him to finish. Unless that’s what he waited for? She wasn’t ashamed. “Please, Blake.”
“You wanted control, minx.”
“Take it back. Take me.” For once, she didn’t want to be the one in control. When had he wrested that kind of trust from her?
With a growl, his arms locked behind her back and he flipped so he was once again on top, in control. The look of determination on his face sent a thrill through her. This is what she waited for.
“God, but you’re sweet,” he whispered, placing feather-light kisses along her shoulder as he withdrew and then slammed back home.
There was no time to answer, no time to argue about her sweetness, about who had control, no time for thoughts of trust or anything else as pleasure built and built inside her. It was hard enough to breathe let alone form words.
Words were unnecessary anyway. Especially between them.
* * *
Sophie’s head pounded. Her tongue lay heavy in her dry mouth. She swallowed slowly and worked to move the lump in her throat. Liquor and she had never mixed well and it seemed last night was no different. A groan next to her in the bed made her freeze to the spot, her eyes still closed. So it hadn’t been a dream? She was terrified to open her eyelids not just because she knew the light would be blinding, but what would she say to Blake?
What could she say? The only thing she knew was that she ached in places that had never ached before. Ever.
Her cheeks warmed at the memories, but even as her body tingled, her mind rebelled. What did this mean for their future?
She shook her head. They didn’t have a future. Both had been drunk and naked. Neither would have been able to walk away from that. She felt a little better knowing it wasn’t her fault even though she had been the one to instigate it. Sort of.
“I know you’re awake.” Despite the gravity of what they’d done, his husky morning voice sent shivers through her body.
“No I’m not,” she replied, her eyes still closed and her own voice pitched lower than she’d intended. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away. Her dignity needed it in that moment.
“You’ll have to face me eventually, Sophie. I’m not going anywhere.”
That’s what she was afraid of. She sighed and opened her eyes, squinting for a moment against the harshness of the bright sunshine streaming in through the open curtains. “Good morning.” It seemed the only appropriate response.
He seemed to assess her, but for what she had no idea. And when had he dressed? She was normally such a light sleeper. It was scary that she hadn’t woken. Scarier still that she could almost imagine the past fourteen years had been a nightmare and she’d finally woken to the life she was meant to lead. With him.
“Are you all right?” Blake asked, his gaze full of concern as he leaned over her, his hair falling over his brow. She longed to reach up and run her fingers through it.
“I’m quite fine, thank you. And you? Your ribs seem to be recovering well.” She injected just a touch of wry accusation into her tone when she remembered how miraculously he’d healed last night. They’d left for the dance with him limping a little and favoring his right arm still, but when he’d thrust into her body, held himself poised above her, held her tight, it was evident his injuries weren’t as bad as he’d made them seem. “Why didn’t you tell me you were better?”