Like I was too delicate to handle reality? “I’m not fucking fragile.” I wasn’t Clear.
He tucked my hair behind my ear. “No, you’re not fragile. You’re strong. Tough.” The pride with which he’d said that warmed my insides. “But just like I don’t think you’d want me walking into a visitation room to have a sit-down with Bale, I don’t want my baggage to touch you. Is that wrong?”
I wanted to say ‘yes’ and demand he tell me everything, but I couldn’t … because he was absolutely right. I wouldn’t want him anywhere near Michael; I would feel like I was letting my baggage soil him. I’d be a hypocritical bitch if I pushed this, which was no doubt exactly why he’d cleverly worded his case that way. “This common enemy—”
“Will never step foot in your life. They will never speak to you, never touch you, never even see you. You’re completely detached from the situation, and that’s the way it will stay.”
“What you’re saying, then, is that if I want to be with you, I have to accept that there are things you’ll never tell me about yourself?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. One day, I’ll lay it all out for you. But it won’t be anytime soon.”
In other words, he wouldn’t tell me unless he could be sure we were solid. I understood that. You only bared your soul if you absolutely had to, and only if you trusted that person with what you held inside. I would never expect him to trust me so soon, and we had a long way to go before we could claim to be solid.
“I need you to accept that, Kensey. Can you?”
I sighed. “You really will tell me one day?”
“One day,” he agreed. His hands framed my face. “Don’t walk away, Kensey. I’ve lived a jaded life around a lot of jaded people. You’re my good thing.”
Good thing? I threw him a skeptical look.
“I hold a mean grudge and I tend to expect the worst from people. Your life has been no easy ride and you’ve seen human nature at its worst, but you’re not cynical or bitter or self-destructive. You don’t act like the world owes you a favor. You don’t wear your pain like a badge, thinking it gives you a special pass to do what the fuck you like to whoever you like. Having said that, you’re no angel,” he added with a smile. “You’re not all sweetness and light, which is good because I couldn’t relate to someone like that. And my girl needs spunk and attitude to deal with me.” He paused to give me a soft kiss. “Like I said, you’re my good thing. I want you safe. Happy.”
He’d have a hell of a time ensuring that, given everything that was happening. “That’s sweet and all, but I consider myself responsible for my own happiness. And I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate you being protective; I’m just reminding you that I’m no damsel in need of a white knight—or even a dark one, for that matter.”
“I’m no knight of any color. But I will protect you, damsel or not. And you won’t fight me on it, because you know there’s no point. Just as you know there’s no point in trying to walk away from me. I’m not a good bet, but I want you to take that bet—as you may have noticed from how hard I pushed you to give into me, I’m a selfish bastard when it comes to you. And we’ve tumbled too far down the rabbit hole to turn back now.”
“Why do you think you’re not a good bet?”
“I told you, I’d never physically hurt you. But you said it yourself that day at the diner, I won’t be good for you. I haven’t been good for you so far, have I?”
“Actually, you have in some ways.” And it had only really occurred to me at that very moment.
He didn’t appear whatsoever convinced. “What ways would those be?”
“I don’t like change—even to the point where I don’t like adding new people into my life—but it’s not a good thing to stay in a rut. You forced your way in, plucked me right out of my comfort zone, and made me try something new. My last boyfriend cheated on me, so my confidence wasn’t at its best, but you boosted it. And, well, this may sound weird but I don’t feel like Michael Bale’s stepdaughter when I’m with you. For many people, that’s primarily what they see. You just see Kensey.”
A fierce intensity gathered behind his eyes, and he sifted his hands into my hair. “I see my Kensey.” His mouth slammed down on mine. The reaction was instant and elemental. Need exploded between us. Red-hot waves of molten lust flooded me. My blood heated and sparked. The air turned thick and electric with the chemistry that had relentlessly smashed through every defense I had.
He savagely feasted on my mouth, nipping, licking, and sinking his tongue inside—an explicit tease of exactly what I hoped he meant to do to my pussy. Kisses shouldn’t be addictive, but his were so searing, hungry, and consuming. I couldn’t get enough.
His hands snaked under my dress, cupped my ass, and lifted me against his solid, powerful body. All that hard muscle and latent strength was like a total aphrodisiac. I wrapped my legs around him as he walked behind his desk and set me down on the edge.
I let out a little squeal at the feel of the cool marble against my ass. His chuckle was distinctly wicked and unrepentant.
“The door isn’t locked,” I said.
“No one would dare barge in here.” His head dipped as he trailed kisses down my neck. My body curved into his, needing more, and he growled. “I’m gonna get you so fucking wet.”
Oh, I didn’t doubt that.
He scooped out my breasts and palmed them roughly. “Love these.” He suckled on my nipple, scoring it with the edge of his teeth. He then blew out a long, cool breath, and my nipple tightened to the point of pain. He gave the other the same treatment, the bastard. Then he was plucking and twisting one nipple while he sucked hard on the other. “You on the pill?”
“Yes.” I took it to regulate my periods.
“Good.” He put his mouth to my ear, and the feel of his hot breath made me shiver. “I don’t want to come in a condom. I want to come inside you.” He pinched my nipple. “I’m clean. Always used condoms.”
“Same here.” And just thinking of having him skin-to-skin made my pussy contract.
He sucked on my earlobe. “Lie back.”
Careful not to knock anything, I eased myself back. The cool feel of the marble on my skin made me shiver just a little.
“That’s a good girl.” He drew my thong down my legs and tossed it aside. “Spread your legs, Kensey.”
I did, though I took my sweet time about it. His eyes locked on my pussy, darkening with naked want and an unadulterated possessiveness that made my inner walls heat and spasm. He dragged his gaze to mine. I was caught, trapped, in that gaze—in the demands and promises I saw there.
He hummed. “Such a pretty picture you make right here.” He landed a sharp slap on my inner thigh, and I jerked in shock. The sting radiated all the way to my slick folds, feeding the burn in my pussy. It felt unbelievably good.
Still, I frowned. “Hey!”
And he delivered a light slap to my other thigh; the same thing happened—the light pain blazed all the way to my pussy, leaving it throbbing.
Blake tugged off his tie as he said, “I want you to keep your hands flat on the desk.” He dumped the tie near my head, and I understood the threat. “I don’t want to have to tie you up; my word should be enough.”
I swallowed hard as he sat on his chair and curled his hands around my thighs, spreading them wider. “Blake—”
“Don’t come.” He fell forward and clamped his mouth around my pussy. I sucked in a huge gasp of air. The sudden heat of his mouth felt almost as good as the tongue that swiped through my folds and swirled around my clit. My back arched and my eyes drifted shut.
“Fucking love going down on you,” he rumbled.
It was no gentle seduction. His mouth was ruthless. He licked and sipped and drank from me. Fluttered his tongue between my slick folds. Stabbed his tongue inside me again and again. Sucked my clit between his lips and flicked it with his tongue.
My body felt too tight. Too
hot. Too needy. The hunger was as carnal and unrelenting as his mouth. My core throbbed and pulsed, and I knew I had to be dripping wet. “Fuck me.”
He didn’t respond. Just continued to devastate me with his mouth, prolonging the torture. Soon, feverish tremors began to rack my body. Desperation licked through me just as his tongue licked through my slit. Every thought scattered but one—I need to come.
For about the tenth time, I slapped the desk hard enough to make my palm sting, caught in a total fucking frenzy. A total frenzy of fucking would be much better, but he was being an ass. “Blake, seriously—” The slight graze of his teeth made me jerk.
“My girl’s pussy is so pretty and tight and wet.” He took my hand and sucked my finger into his mouth. Then he plunged my finger inside me and held it there. My hips bucked, and I inhaled sharply. Shit, I was soaking.
He pulled back my hand and then thrust it forward. He did it again. And again. And again, fucking me with my own finger. “Keep going, Kensey. Let me watch you.” He let go of my hand, but I kept up the rhythm. “That’s it. Don’t stop until you’re ready to come.”
I looked down to see that he’d steepled his fingers and was watching my pussy intently. Hungrily. Possessively.
“Every time I sit at this desk, this is what I’ll remember,” he said. “Your pussy all swollen and glistening and clenching your finger. Faster, Kensey. Fuck yourself faster.”
I did, completely unashamed while I was caught in the iron grip of a powerful, pitiless need. I was balancing on the knife-edge of an orgasm that was sure to render me senseless, and I really didn’t know if I could take much more. But when I curved my finger just right and touched that special spot inside me, I felt that orgasm creep—
Blake snatched my hand back. “No, no, no, baby. I’m not ready for you to come yet.”
I hissed through my teeth. “Blake, I know you get pleasure out of being a teasing motherfucker, but I really can’t take anymore. I need to come.”
“You got a reason why I should let you?”
He was such a fucking asshole. “Um …”
“Hmm. Pity.” His tongue once again licked my slit.
“Wait, wait, wait! I … um … I…” I clicked my fingers as something came to me. “I didn’t move my hands until you grabbed one! I kept them on the desk like you asked.”
“That’s true, baby, you did.” Rising to his feet, he reached for his fly. My pussy quivered at the sound of his zipper lowering. His cock sprang out, full and long. I remembered the feel of him in my mouth; remembered how hot and hard he’d been. And I wanted another taste. My fingers tingled with the drive to touch and stroke and drag him closer.
“You like having my cock in your mouth, don’t you?”
I flicked my eyes to his and nodded. Why deny it?
“Another time.” With his mouth set into a hard slash and his eyes glittering with an almost animalistic need, the untamed quality about him had never been more evident. “Now I want to fuck you.” Gripping my thighs, he tilted my hips and rammed into me with a shocking force, taking instant possession of me in one smooth, feral thrust.
I jerked, mouth slack, as I found myself suddenly stuffed full of a hard, thick cock. My pussy contracted around him, and he uttered a harsh curse. But he didn’t move. Didn’t let me move. He held me still on his cock. I swallowed. “What do you want?”
He raised a brow. “What do you think I want?”
I gritted my teeth but relented, “You own me.”
His face went lazy with approval, and he slowly pulled back. Then, slamming home, he bit out, “Fucking right I own you.” Growling low in his throat, he drove deep again and again, fingertips digging into my thighs, driving me higher and hotter. I raised my hips to meet each brutal thrust, frantic for more. “Your pussy feels so fucking good around my dick. Have you missed having me inside you, Kensey?”
I let out a breathy moan. “Yes.” The friction inside me wound even tighter. “Blake, I need—”
“I know what you need.” He curled over me, shifting his angle, stroking my clit each time he pounded into me. Bunching one hand in my hair, he ravaged my mouth, swallowing my moans and whimpers. “So fucking beautiful. Make me come inside you, Kensey. Make me fill you up.”
He gave me a particularly hard thrust, and I felt myself shatter in a shockingly powerful orgasm that swept me under. I shook almost violently as wave after torturous wave of white-hot pleasure ripped through me. His cock pistoned in and out of me, driving harder and deeper and faster—
“Fuck.” He rammed his cock deep, sinking his teeth into my shoulder. I felt every hot splash as he exploded with a growl.
And I collapsed. Panting, mouth bone dry, I lay there shuddering with aftershocks; thinking it was very possible that I’d lapse into a temporary, pleasure-induced coma.
It could have been hours later when I felt him shift slightly. I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me. He softly ran the pad of his thumb over my mouth, and my lips parted on a sigh. He kissed me, tongue sweeping against mine.
“You know …” He let the sentence trail off.
“What?” I prompted.
“I don’t like how much I’m starting to need you.”
I wasn’t offended, because … “The feeling’s mutual.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I guess we’ll both just have to get used to it.”
I returned the small smile. “I guess we will.”
He slid his hand under my back and pulled me forward as he straightened. With quick, adept movements, he righted my bra and dress. “Hold on.” He carried me into the attached bathroom, where he quickly cleaned me up. Once I’d then pulled on my thong and he’d tucked his cock back into his pants, he propped me back on the desk. “Thirsty?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of water from a mini fridge that I hadn’t noticed.
I took it gratefully and swallowed a long gulp, loving the feel of the cold liquid pouring down my dry throat. It was only then that I noticed a smug smirk had surfaced on his face. I frowned. “What?”
“You don’t realize you did it, do you?”
“Did what?”
He placed a hand on the desk either side of me and leaned forward. “You screamed for me.”
I stiffened. “I did not.”
“Oh, you did, baby. I fucking loved it.”
“You were hearing things. I don’t scream.”
“I’m serious. You—” He frowned at the hard knock on the door. “Come in.”
Rossi strolled inside and gave us both a nod. As he looked at me, there was a hint of respect in his eyes.
“You find anyone?” Blake asked him, all business.
Rossi shook his head. “The cameras caught a glimpse of some guy, though. You might want to come take a look at the footage.”
I grabbed Blake’s arm. “I want to see.”
He twisted his mouth, looking put-out. “Thought you might,” he grumbled. Leaving his tie behind, he took possession of my hand and led me out of the office. Rossi preceded us as we descended the iron staircase.
I caught a glimpse of Tara standing at the bar. Apparently, she picked up on Blake’s tension, because her expression sobered and she made her way over like some kind of avenging angel. And, yeah, I tensed.
She managed to intercept us and put a hand on his upper arm. Did she want to get punched? Because I could get behind that idea.
“What’s wrong?” she asked Blake. “Tell me how I can help.”
“Your help isn’t needed, Tara,” he said, but not rudely. “Go enjoy your evening.”
She double-blinked. “You know where I am if you need me. I can keep Kensey company for you,” she offered.
Like hell. And I didn’t appreciate that she’d suggested it to him but not me, as if my input on the matter had no relevance.
“Kensey’s coming with me,” Blake told her.
Her face smoothed out into a blank mask. “I see.” Clearly, she didn’t like not being included.
&nb
sp; Welcome to my world, Red.
I probably should have felt bad for her. Instead, I felt better knowing that she wasn’t some sort of confidant to him. Or, at least, he didn’t consider her to be one. She might believe differently.
I gave her a wan smile as we past, following Rossi to a room near the elevator that turned out to be the security office. Dozens and dozens of monitors hung on the wall, each showing different sections of the Vault. I noticed that none showed the basement. If any provided feed from B3, I couldn’t tell which they were.
Rossi lightly tapped a particular screen as he rewound the footage. “Here. Watch.” The recording began to play, and I saw a man dressed in black, hovering around the private garage. He seemed to be looking for a way in.
I leaned closer to the monitor to get a better look, and my heart started to pound in my chest. “That’s not Ricky Tate.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Seconds of silence ticked by. “You’re sure?” asked Blake.
I turned to fully face him. “That’s Noah Linton. He’s a true crime author who wants to write a book on Michael. He’s been badgering me for an interview.”
Blake studied the figure on the screen. “I don’t recognize him. Could it have been him who called you earlier?”
“Maybe. He has my number.” I pinched my lower lip between my thumb and index finger. “It didn’t sound like him, but I got the feeling that the caller was trying to disguise their voice.”
“Then they don’t want you to know who they are.”
Rossi stepped forward. “Boss, what’s the deal with this asshole? And who’s Ricky Tate?”
Blake explained the situation to Rossi—only withholding that I was a writer—and then turned back to me. “What exactly did the caller say?”
After I quickly relayed the conversation, Rossi narrowed his eyes and said to Blake, “Think either Linton or Tate was the driver of the silver Sedan that was tailing us last week?”
Blake rubbed his jaw. “Probably. Have you seen a silver Sedan around, Kensey?”