I love kissing, but if I do that with him right now, I’m lost, and he’s already ripped me apart once, so goddamn hard. I can’t go there again— As if he senses my reticence, he lets out a deep breath, looks away, and stares at the fan, watching it twirl.

“Blaze…” I don’t know what I’m going to say.

He nods, almost as if to himself, and turns back to me. I press a kiss to his palm and press it to my face. I can’t not—even though it’s going to haunt me later.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

He watches me, and when he speaks, his voice is low. “I’m thinking if I can’t have a kiss, I want my dick between those full lips, your mouth and tongue on me. We never did that. We never did…” His voice stops as he takes a deep breath. He cups his hand over his jeans, and his pants tighten, jutting out against the fabric. “Would you like it? Would you get on your knees for me?”

“I’ve never done that with anyone.” I’ve had opportunities to, and guys have begged, but that level of trust and intimacy always intimidated me. It was a way to keep myself separate and apart.

“I’m not just anyone, am I?” His words are quiet, yet the very edges of them tremble.

“No.” I pull on his hair, threading my fingers through the soft strands as he bends his head closer. His hand pops the button on his jeans and unzips them just a little. His pants are barely past his hips, but his large mushroom-shaped cockhead is visible as his hand wraps around it and strokes.

“Blaze…” I sigh as he runs his fingers over the thick head in circles, white liquid slipping out of the slit at the top.

He watches himself then looks at me. “I can’t stop. Lying there with you for all those hours, knowing you were next to me…”

I watch his hands pump, sliding over the brown skin of his cock, more thick white liquid beading. He rubs the wetness down the part of his length I can’t see, the slick sound of his strokes loud in the quiet room. “I’m thinking about you, your hot mouth sucking me like a lollipop. I want that. I want you taking every inch of me down your throat.” His head goes back with another loud groan, and the top of him is red now, bigger and thicker as his hand works it. With a mumbled curse, he shoves his jeans down the rest of the way and I see all of him, from root to tip. He’s huge, thick, and veiny. Hard as a steel pipe.

“Are you with me, Charm? Are you turned on?”

I tear my gaze off his length. My hands clench. I nod.

“Take your shirt off,” he tells me, and I comply, pulling it over my head and letting it fall on the bed. I skate my fingers over the edge of my black lace demi bra, glad I have it on. I think about how I must look, chest heaving, hair everywhere, my skin flushed. My breasts feel heavy and tingly, begging for sensation. The air from the fan breezes across my nipples, erect and aching, and I arch my back. I push the wire of my bra down until it’s underneath me, lifting me up. The fabric brushes over the piercing in my right breast, and I hiss.

“Christ! Your body…” he says. “That nipple ring—fuck.”

Our eyes meet and I falter. I’m going too far. I’m skirting the edges of the rabbit hole that he is, this inescapable desire, and it’s going to hurt me later— He must read my face. “Don’t think, Charisma. Look at how much I want you.”

He squeezes the head of his cock, doing a twisting motion that makes me gasp.

My nipples respond to him like there’s an electric current between us, and I play with them, pinching and rolling them between my fingers in time with his strokes, my legs scissoring at the fire that’s building there.

His hands are fast and he shudders with each upward stroke, his broad shoulders quivering, his waist arching.

“Blaze…” I’m breathless.

“Say my name, Charm. Say it.”

“Blaze, Blaze, Blaze—”

He lets out a grunt and liquid spurts from his cock, spilling out over his jeans and running over his hands.

He reaches over to the nightstand, grabs a tissue from the box there, and wipes himself off, sweeping up the mess with hands that tremble. Then he’s in my face and pushing a strand of hair back. “You didn’t get off.” Blue eyes glitter down at me.

“Was enjoying the show.”

“I want to make you come.”

“You did, at the party. We’re even.”

But…

Thick need has taken up residence inside my body, the warm honey of desire licking at every molecule inside. My fingers touch my silver nipple ring and, combined with him staring at me, it’s almost enough to get me— “I’ll barely touch you. Just close your eyes.”

There’s a hint of authority in his tone and everything inside me wants to resist, but he has power over me, something no one else has ever had.

I let my lashes lower.

“Don’t move.”

I nod.

What’s he going to do?

The air from the fan drifts across us as the moment stretches into several seconds. I can feel the heat of his gaze on me, and I know he’s staring, his eyes heavy and low.

His tongue licks at my ear, biting my lobe softly, and I start, having expected him to go for my breasts. I strain toward him as he works his mouth down my neck, licking my skin. His nose trails down my nape and skates to my collarbone.

I squirm, my hips arching off the bed, estimating where I think his hips are, but there’s nothing. Finally his hands cup both my breasts, and I cry out.

My head falls back. “Oh, oh…”

“Touch yourself. Here,” he says as his hand briefly touches the crotch of my leggings and then is gone.

My hand plays with the waistband before slipping underneath to the hem of my black lace panties.

“More.” His lips suck my skin while his hand teases my piercing, tugging and brushing over the sensitive skin until I’m falling, falling.

I push aside my curls until I find my slick, wet folds. Groaning, I go deeper, finding the wetness in the center.

“Are you soaked?”

“Yes.”

“All for me.”

“Yes.”

He pushes my legs farther apart. I think about him staring again, and it’s embarrassing how my hips arch, still finding nothing. He must be standing and bending over me.

“Push your panties down.”

I fumble around until my leggings and panties are at my ankles. I kick them off.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat as his hands part my legs. “I want my tongue there. I want you sitting on my face. We never did that either, did we? It was just straight-up fucking for us…doggy style in the library…then my dorm, up against the wall.”

No, I don’t like that distant tone is his voice—not now.

“Blaze—”

“Faster. Two fingers.”

I do as he says, opening myself up and giving up my control as I touch that little spot close to my opening that makes me crazy. My lips part and I breathe faster. My fingers feel so good, and my legs twitch. When I go to push them together, to get privacy in this, he stops me with his hands, holding them apart.

“Let me watch. Give up that control, baby.”

He kisses my neck and then sucks. “Do you hear that sound you’re making? Do you hear how you can’t breathe? And the sound of your pussy… I like thinking about you getting off when you think about me. How many times did you touch yourself when we weren’t together?”

“Too many to count.”

The sound of fabric shifting and a zipper going down reaches me, and he lets out a strangled noise. “I’m going to jack off again, Charm. You good with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” I mumble. I can’t even think straight.

“I dream about this. Two o’clock in the morning and I wake up with a hard-on for you. All it takes is three strokes and I’m coming all over myself,” he groans, and I picture him stroking himself, biting those full lips.

My legs are jelly, the tips of my fingers playing, doing everything he says as I hear his breathing quickening, him sliding his hand over himself.

God, the closed eyes thing is really hot.

A lone finger presses down at the top of my mound, pulling on the curls there, and I gasp and jerk, wiggling to get him closer. My hips rise off the bed, fighting against the pressure of his hand keeping me down, yet wanting it as I touch the bundle of nerves at the top of my sex.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and that voice, the gold and gray of him, the two sides of light and dark send me over the edge. My core squeezes and pulses against my hand, a million stars lighting up behind my closed eyes. Hot sparks detonate, and I call out and fall down into a sensation so sharp it makes me whimper.

Aftershocks roll through my body, and I grasp the blanket underneath me, my hips still writhing.

My eyes open.

He’s leaning over the bed, face flushed, eyes full of lust, his jeans at his feet.

I find myself on my knees in front of him. He lets out a deep groan of satisfaction when I take his length in my mouth. He tastes like salt and heat, and him.

I want it all.

My eyes look up and he’s watching me, dark gaze smoldering.

“Just like that,” he grunts, cupping my head and guiding me, threading his hands through my hair.

My tongue and lips suck him while his grip grows firmer, pushing my head into his body until the tip of him is in the back of my throat. His breathing gets loud as his cock thickens and hardens more.