Author: P Hana

Page 5


“I'm going to fuck you now, Erica. Do you want that?”

His breath over the wet flesh of my nipple gave me gooseflesh, my skin electric from all the ways he'd tantalized it.

I moaned a loud affirmative, my hands nearly numb from gripping the blanket with restraint. Ready to burst, I released them and found his hair, fisting the silky strands that slid between my fingers as I held his mouth tight to my breast. He nipped me gently and I yelped.

He took me by the wrists and replaced them above my head. “Stay still.”

The bag crinkled again, and then he bound my wrists with some kind of silky fabric and tightened the knot, leaving no question about my ability to wriggle free from it.

He stripped me from the waist down and I heard his clothes drop to the floor at my feet before his body covered mine.

I twisted my wrists, a pointless effort since I had no way of breaking free on my own. As I did, my heartbeat ratcheted to a rapid rate, panic seeping in. He'd done this before, left me helpless, unable to touch him or move. Those bonds had been a little easier to negotiate, but these didn't budge. I couldn't see him now. I was helpless and in the dark. A cold fear crept in, replacing Blake with a nightmare, the darkest memory.

“Blake.” My voice was uneven, tainted with the uneasiness that grew. I wasn’t sure if I could do this.

His hand rested over my heart, my chest rising rapidly with the breathing I could no longer control.

“Shh, baby. I've got you,” he murmured.

He covered my body with the warmth of his own, claiming my mouth with his, tender and full of love, silencing my fears. He kissed my jaw and moved to the sensitive skin of my neck, just below my ear.

“Do you feel me? It's me, baby. It'll always be me.”

With those words, my body went lax beneath him. I released the fists I'd been clenching and focused on his touch, unlike any other. No one had ever touched me the way he did, like he knew my body better than I did.

Slowly the panic subsided, melting away as he reintroduced himself to my body, his voice bringing me back to the moment, our moment.

“I've been hard all day thinking about you like this. Do you have any idea how impossible it is to work that way? Thinking about your tight little body quivering under me, ready for me?”

Inch by inch my skin came alive, quickening as his hands and his mouth claimed me. Urgent touches and hot, wet kisses. His voice talking me through every motion, every plan. My hips circled into the motion of his fingers massaging me, sliding through my wet folds and inside of me, a promise of what was to come.

My focus pinpointed on the contact. I was panting, aimlessly wondering how much longer I could hold out like this. God, the man loved torturing me.

“You okay?” He circled my wrists gently and feathered down the sensitive skin on the underside of my arms.

I roused myself from my longing to consider his question. Panic was so far in my rearview. I could think of nothing but the sweet inevitable of having him inside me.

“More than okay. Don't stop.”

He spread my legs around him. He notched at my opening and pushed in, slow enough to drive me a little crazy. I held my breath until he was rooted, stretching me fully. He took my mouth in a deep kiss, and I took my next breath from him as he ground his hips gently, reminding me how deeply he could possess me in every way. I moaned, and fire spread through my veins, heating me from limb to limb as I clung to his body the only way I could. I hooked my ankles behind his thighs, urging him into me, the need to have him moving inside me almost more than I could bear.

He slipped his arm around my waist and splayed his hand at my tailbone, protecting me from the hard floor as he thrust into me harder. I gasped, relief and ecstasy flooding me.

He rocked into me, finding a steady rhythm. Between kisses, he murmured in my ear. “Love you, baby. Being inside you…like this. Controlling your pleasure. I need this.”

He whispered the things he wanted to do to me, how every minute inside me made him feel, staying with me so I'd never forget who was loving me.

“Blake, oh God…” There was nothing but the sound of his voice and his cock plunging into me. No distractions, only the fierce claim of his body over mine. My lip trembled as the tension mounted.

“That’s it. Now you're going to come loud and hard and introduce me to the neighbors.”

He took my hands in one of his, holding them tight above me while the other found my hip. Then, lifting me a few inches off the floor, he drove in hard so his cock hit the spot inside me that made everything go white behind the black.

His name left my lips in a hoarse cry. Colors exploded behind my eyes as my body seized around his, the tremble rocketing through my core.

“Christ, Erica… Fuck, just like that.”

My toes curled as he rolled into the last few strokes that took us both over the edge. He gripped my hips roughly and buried himself in me one last time with a loud moan.

He collapsed over me, his body slick and fevered. I twisted my hands again, wanting to touch him and soothe him through the aftershocks. He untied the fabric deftly, freeing me. I squinted against the light pouring into the room when he slipped off the mask.

Blake’s face was relaxed but his eyes were dark and serious. He stroked my face reverently, pushing tiny strands of hair away as we caught our breath.

“I missed your eyes. Next time I want to see them every minute I make love to you, all the way to the end. I want you to see what you do to me.”


“I love fashion.”

I didn’t doubt it. Dressed in a sleek black designer wrap dress matched with heels that I would absolutely fall over in, Risa Corvi was very well maintained. Almost too put together. She didn’t have the effortless beauty that Alli carried, but nothing was out of place, from her shoulder-length jet-black hair to her fresh French manicure.

She came across as high-maintenance. I bet she got her eyebrows waxed like clockwork too. Sadly, I could probably take a few notes from her. I scanned her resume. For an entry-level candidate, she boasted some impressive work, but I was still skeptical about hiring a friend of a friend.

“I can see that. Tell me about some of the campaigns you’ve worked on.”

Risa pulled out a large portfolio case with sections of printed material organized by campaign. Every page was aligned perfectly and the content was equally clean-cut and professional. Lots of stock photo models sporting fake and perfect smiles, because their retirement accounts were making them that happy. The technique was overused and a far cry from who we were as a company.