Hardwired (The Hardwired Series 1)(36)

Right when I expected him to join me, he caught my thighs and pulled me to the edge of the bed, spreading my legs around his waist and notching himself at the slick flesh between my legs. His eyes were dark and his breath hissed as he thrust into me in one hard, singular motion, digging his fingers into my hips.

I gasped at his depth, letting my body acclimate to being so completely overtaken by his. I closed my eyes for a minute to absorb it all, the perfection of how he felt inside me.

When he didn’t move, I opened my eyes. His expression was tense, the line of his jaw rigid. He ran his hand from my hip to my knee and pushed away a fraction.

I made a small whimper of protest. I hooked my ankles and pulled him closer, deeper. “This is how I want you.”

“Erica—”

“I don’t want you to hold back. I want all of you, Blake.” Desperate, I arched into him. The need to feel him moving inside me, ravaging me, was relentless. Whatever he thought I couldn’t take was exactly what I needed. “Please,” I begged.


He exhaled a slow breath and pulled back slowly. Then he drove into me, hard and deep. Yes. Like that.

I met his rapid thrusts, now fierce and unapologetic, as my cunt tightened around him. My entire body trembled in a seemingly perpetual state of climax. I reveled as he pushed deeper and deeper, hitting a tender spot inside me that I never knew existed until he created it.

I gripped the edge of the bed, adding even more leverage to his efforts. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he cupped lifted my hips off the bed, bringing the contact to a new level. I fisted my hands in the sheets.

“Blake, oh God. Yes.” Unintelligible cries of pleasure poured out of me as I melted around him, pleasure rippling out from my core.

Blake’s tensed. Every plane of his body turned to stone, his breath ragged as he came in a rush.

“Erica, f*ck.” He threw his head back and came undone.

He stilled inside me while my body quaked with aftershocks of his sheet-clawing brand of sex.

Wasted from the release, I lay boneless and satisfied. After a moment he climbed in the bed with me, pulling up to my side. He curled his arms around me and nuzzled into my neck. He pressed soft kisses along my jaw and then found my mouth, soothing me with long and deep strokes of his tongue.

While gentle, the act lit the fire in me again. My hands roamed his body, appreciating every breathtaking curve of his anatomy. I couldn’t get enough of him, whether it was looking at him or f*cking him. The need to claim him overwhelmed me. My caresses became more urgent. I tugged him closer and he shifted over me, bringing the weight of his body above me.

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured between kisses, teasing my lower lip between his teeth.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I arched into him. The more he gave me, the more I needed.

“Why the hell would you be sorry?”

“It’s too soon,” I said, feeling him harden between us as the words left me.

“I can go all night, if you can.” He pushed me back up onto the bed, stretched my arms above me, and interlaced our fingers together. He held me captive, a state that heightened my senses and had me tingling again from head to toe.

“Is that a challenge?” I teased, tempted to put him to the test. Being with Blake intoxicated me in every way, and my addiction to him solidified with every toe-curling orgasm he delivered. I wrapped my legs around him, my arms powerless, and urged him to me.

“Yes,” he said. His voice was raw with lust.





CHAPTER ELEVEN





I woke in the morning, wrapped in Blake’s soft down comforter and the memories of the night. I stretched out onto Blake’s empty side of the bed. Sunshine poured into the room, and I smelled coffee brewing. I got up and picked out a plain white T-shirt from one of Blake’s closets to cover myself. In the bathroom, Blake had laid out some toiletries for me. I smiled. Most girls had to work their way up to that.

I padded through the apartment, following the sounds from the kitchen. I found Blake cracking eggs into a bowl. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of flannel pajama pants that hugged his hips. His hair was still thoroughly mussed and he wore a pair of dark rimmed glasses that amplified the sexiness of this early morning look. They made him look older and somehow more human, a Clark Kent quality.

I leaned against the granite island and appraised his progress. He had cut up some fruit and laid bacon in a pan while he figured out the egg thing. My stomach did a little leap at the thought that he was doing this for me.

He dropped what he was doing to wash his hands and turned to me. He smirked and traced the hem of my T-shirt.

“I like this.”

“I wasn’t trying to make a fashion statement, but I’m glad you approve.” I leaned back into the counter and tilted my head to the side. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“I don’t usually, but you kept me busy last night, so I forgot to take my contacts out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

He lifted me to the countertop and leaned into the space between my legs, his hands traveling up my thighs and under the shirt to my back where he stroked my skin, leaving trails of heat everywhere in his wake. I moaned when he found my breast and thumbed my nipple until it beaded under his touch. As he kissed me, his tongue delivered soft measured strokes that reminded me of the sweet, dull ache between my legs from last night’s marathon.