Page 112 of Blaire

I stare right at him, at the lust burning in his eyes, my lungs rising and falling with harsh intakes of breath.

“I'm not gonna fuck you,” he whispers, then he arches his hips and touches my sex with his cock, causing heat to sprint through my body.

I put my hands on his shoulders, desperately trying to keep it together. I've felt nothing like this before—sex against sex. It's so intimate.

“Rub your pussy against my cock until you cum,” he says, his eyes hooded, dazzling with lust.

I look away from him, my cheeks flushing red. I've heard men say things like that many times before, but never to me. It's so... personal and lewd.

He knows I'm embarrassed, and I'm glad that he doesn't pressure me with words. He grips my hips in both hands and tells me to kiss him, so I do. I close my eyes and kiss him hungrily, though I find his tongue and mouth are more demanding than mine. He devours me with powerful, leisured licks, breaking away the barrier that is my anxiety. The maple syrup we just had on our breakfast tastes sweet and delicious on Charlie.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers in my mouth.

I open my heavy eyes, squeezing his hard shoulders with my nails.

“Do you?” he says again, staring right through my soul. “Iwant toknow that you do, Blaire.”

I nod, consumed by that fixated expression on his face.

He forces me to grind against him, sliding me up and down his vein swollen cock.

My stomach rolls with sensations.

“That's it,” he groans, closing his eyes. He curls my hips back and forth with his, making me wave harder and faster. My flesh wet, I move up and down him with slick ease, sobbing when my inflamed clit touches him.

I'm too shaky to just hold his shoulders, so I tie my arms around his neck and cling to him, deepening the kiss as I tilt my head, my heart rate hitting a dangerous speed. He blinks at me, and we watch each other like this with desperate yearning, Charlie's eyes flickering between mine.

“So beautiful...” he whispers, taking my mouth again. He places one hand on the curve of my back and forces me to arch into him, ensuring my clit is constantly massaged by his cock.

I whimper his name, a familiar pressure brewing low in my stomach.

“Fuck, I want you, Blaire...” he moans, the sound so loud it vibrates through us.

My leg goes into a wild spasm, his words slaying me open. I want him too.

I can't kiss him anymore—it's too intense—so I press my forehead against his, putting us eye to eye, rub-fucking him with all I have.

“Charlie...” I sob his name. I'm almost there but I just can't.

“Don't think, baby.” He blinks in a haze, grabbing my outer thigh to calm my shaking. “Just don't think. Close your eyes.”

I do close my eyes, and I let my thoughts escape me like a river running free. It hits me then, like lightning. The head of Charlie's cock slides through my folds, over my bud, and I cry out so hard that my throat hurts, ecstasy bursting out of me.

Charlie finds his peak with me, groaning as if he's in pain, heat searing off his body. Warm, thick liquid inundates my sex, his cock still stimulating my clit. I cum again—or I think I cum again. I'm not sure I ever stopped. It's a never ending spiral of sensations starting at my center and radiating supernova.

He binds his arms around me, crushing me to his muscular body, and when I can't take anymore, I fall wilted, gasping for my life, my limbs lifeless and aching beyond words.

I’m panting. The smells that consume me... hot, sweaty, sensual smells.

My head is spinning.

Charlie relaxes with me. He holds me in his arms, putting my head in the crook of his damp neck so he can kiss my forehead.

I come down slowly and in stages, and then what just happened really starts to sink in.

This is the part that embarrasses me most, the aftermath of intimacy. I get so lost in the moment that I forget what I've said... how I've looked at him...

Charlie isn't embarrassed one bit—he never is. Careful not to crush me again, he stands and puts me down on his chair, tucking his cock back in his joggers. I pull my knees up to my chest, trying to hide my innocent value. I block out what happens next because it's too personal—how he cleans me up with soft tissue paper and puts me back together by dressing me.