him.
“You scared the shit out of me.” She put her hand over her heart.
“Good.”
“For someone who says he doesn’t like Søren, you’re awfully protective of him.”
“Love him or hate, he’s one of us. We take care of our own.”
“I can’t get him in trouble, you know. I only know his first name.”
“Actually, you don’t.” Kingsley laughed to himself. Søren had introduced himself as “Søren” to Blaise, not Marcus Stearns. There was no “Søren” on anyone’s records anywhere. If she tried to find a Catholic priest in the United States named Søren, she’d be searching forever. So that’s why Søren told her his real name? That fucking brilliant blond monster. Now it all made sense.
“He told me his name, remember?” She rolled her eyes. “Jesus, how much have you had to drink?”
“Enough to put me in the mood, but not enough to ruin it. Now I’m going to get very drunk so you should go unless you want to make yourself useful.”
“Maybe I want to make myself useful,” she said, lifting up his shirt. She pressed her lips into his stomach, and the soft curling tips of her hair tickled his skin. Yes. This. Right now he needed this. Distraction. Desire. Anything to keep from remembering. “I like it when you scare me like that.”
“And that,” he said, caressing her cheek, “is why you are my
chouchou
.”
She kissed lower, deeper, and with one hand she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He wasn’t hard yet, but if she kept doing what she was doing, he would be any second now. She took him in her hand and massaged him lightly. When he stiffened, she bent her head and licked the tip. For a few minutes it was all she did, kissing, licking, teasing, focusing all her attention on that one part of him. Blood rushed through him, and he grew hard in her hand. He sighed softly as she stroked him before bringing her mouth down on to him.
Perfect... Her mouth was so wet and warm. She rubbed him with her talented tongue and sucked hard. The pressure built in him, and he lifted his hips into her mouth, small undulations that set every nerve inside him alight. He wove his fingers into her hair, seeking connection with the woman who did this erotic kindness to him.
She paused and used her hand on him, rubbing the shaft from base to tip, squeezing and stoking him to greater pleasure.
“I love your cock,” she whispered before lapping at the wet tip. “I love how big it is. I love how it tastes.”
“You’re too kind. Keep it up,
chouchou
, and I’ll give you the honor of swallowing.”
Blaise grinned seductively at him. “You keep it up, and I’ll keep it up.” She gave him a dirty wink before resuming her task. She sucked even harder now, deeper, and he grew painfully hard. She swirled her tongue around him, up and down, over and over. With her gentle fingertips she eased his foreskin back and lapped at the tip so skillfully his back arched in the shock of pleasure.
A deep muscle tightened in his lower stomach. He felt blood pooling, pressure building. His heart raced, and his fingers dug into the fabric of the chaise lounge. For a few more seconds he held off, trying to prolong the release, wanting to put off as long as possible the return to bitter reality. Blaise sucked him, stroked him, coaxed him, pulled him to the depths of her throat. He hovered at the edge of orgasm, breathing through his nose as Blaise continued to work on him, taking ownership of him with her mouth. She took him deep and massaged his testicles with her tongue. She pulled back to the tip again, and Kingsley came hard into her mouth, spasm after spasm of pleasure washing over him as he spurted his semen into her welcoming throat.
Like the good girl she was, Blaise swallowed every drop of him before releasing him from her mouth. She kissed her way up to his lips, and he tasted himself on her tongue.
“Are you in a good mood now?” she asked, wiping her mouth with one of the towels stacked next to
“You scared the shit out of me.” She put her hand over her heart.
“Good.”
“For someone who says he doesn’t like Søren, you’re awfully protective of him.”
“Love him or hate, he’s one of us. We take care of our own.”
“I can’t get him in trouble, you know. I only know his first name.”
“Actually, you don’t.” Kingsley laughed to himself. Søren had introduced himself as “Søren” to Blaise, not Marcus Stearns. There was no “Søren” on anyone’s records anywhere. If she tried to find a Catholic priest in the United States named Søren, she’d be searching forever. So that’s why Søren told her his real name? That fucking brilliant blond monster. Now it all made sense.
“He told me his name, remember?” She rolled her eyes. “Jesus, how much have you had to drink?”
“Enough to put me in the mood, but not enough to ruin it. Now I’m going to get very drunk so you should go unless you want to make yourself useful.”
“Maybe I want to make myself useful,” she said, lifting up his shirt. She pressed her lips into his stomach, and the soft curling tips of her hair tickled his skin. Yes. This. Right now he needed this. Distraction. Desire. Anything to keep from remembering. “I like it when you scare me like that.”
“And that,” he said, caressing her cheek, “is why you are my
chouchou
.”
She kissed lower, deeper, and with one hand she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He wasn’t hard yet, but if she kept doing what she was doing, he would be any second now. She took him in her hand and massaged him lightly. When he stiffened, she bent her head and licked the tip. For a few minutes it was all she did, kissing, licking, teasing, focusing all her attention on that one part of him. Blood rushed through him, and he grew hard in her hand. He sighed softly as she stroked him before bringing her mouth down on to him.
Perfect... Her mouth was so wet and warm. She rubbed him with her talented tongue and sucked hard. The pressure built in him, and he lifted his hips into her mouth, small undulations that set every nerve inside him alight. He wove his fingers into her hair, seeking connection with the woman who did this erotic kindness to him.
She paused and used her hand on him, rubbing the shaft from base to tip, squeezing and stoking him to greater pleasure.
“I love your cock,” she whispered before lapping at the wet tip. “I love how big it is. I love how it tastes.”
“You’re too kind. Keep it up,
chouchou
, and I’ll give you the honor of swallowing.”
Blaise grinned seductively at him. “You keep it up, and I’ll keep it up.” She gave him a dirty wink before resuming her task. She sucked even harder now, deeper, and he grew painfully hard. She swirled her tongue around him, up and down, over and over. With her gentle fingertips she eased his foreskin back and lapped at the tip so skillfully his back arched in the shock of pleasure.
A deep muscle tightened in his lower stomach. He felt blood pooling, pressure building. His heart raced, and his fingers dug into the fabric of the chaise lounge. For a few more seconds he held off, trying to prolong the release, wanting to put off as long as possible the return to bitter reality. Blaise sucked him, stroked him, coaxed him, pulled him to the depths of her throat. He hovered at the edge of orgasm, breathing through his nose as Blaise continued to work on him, taking ownership of him with her mouth. She took him deep and massaged his testicles with her tongue. She pulled back to the tip again, and Kingsley came hard into her mouth, spasm after spasm of pleasure washing over him as he spurted his semen into her welcoming throat.
Like the good girl she was, Blaise swallowed every drop of him before releasing him from her mouth. She kissed her way up to his lips, and he tasted himself on her tongue.
“Are you in a good mood now?” she asked, wiping her mouth with one of the towels stacked next to
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