Chapter 10

Blake knockedon Erika's door once before turning the knob to enter. As always, his own personal Walmart greeter was right there at the ready. Scooping Corky into his arms, he glanced around Erika's apartment.

"Erik?"

"Be out in a minute," she called from the bedroom.

Blake toed off his shoes, then traipsed over to the couch with Corky squirming in his arms. He found one of her chew toys, the two of them playing tug-of-war while the least fearsome dog he'd ever known gave him the most adorable growl. She shook her head violently, trying to get the toy. Twice he let go, letting her have it, chuckling every time she returned it to him, attempting to put it back in his hand so he would continue the game.

Blake considered everything that had happened today to lead him to this moment. He'd been disoriented upon waking this morning, but that feeling soon morphed to annoyance when he realized he was alone.

Erika had snuck out like a thief in the night. Not that he could blame her. He'd spent the evening comforting her—like a friend would—rather than telling her that his feelings for her had changed.

Well, changed was probably the wrong word. Once his teammates pointed out who she was to him, it had opened his eyes to the fact he'd been falling head over ass in love with the sexy doctor since the first day she'd moved in. Rather than open himself to the idea of pursuing a relationship with a wonderful, funny, intelligent woman, he'd accepted Erika's decision that they couldn't be more than friends. Actually, he'd grabbed onto it like a lifeline to save his so-called blissful bachelor lifestyle.

He'd been an oblivious fool.

Pissed that she'd taken off this morning, Blake had thrown on some clothes, prepared to march over to her apartment to inform her that they had a new status quo.

Probably not his best plan.

God only knew how Erika would have reacted if he'd thrown open her door and stated point-blank that he was her boyfriend. She most likely would have laughed in his face, and she should have. But he hadn't just woken up alone. He'd woken up hard enough to drive nails into concrete, so there hadn't been enough blood in his brain for him to approach her with more finesse or tact.

Or, you know, any tact at all.

All thoughts of dragging her back to his bed vanished the second he'd heard yelling coming from her apartment.

Blake ran a hand through his hair, the same anger he'd felt this morning returning. He couldn't let himself think too hard about how badly Doug might have hurt her if he hadn't intervened. He'd met assholes like Doug before. Jealous guys with bad tempers and too much pride were bad fucking news.

He hated that Erika felt guilty, felt like she'd somehow led the jerk on.

"Sorry," Erika said as she entered the living room. "Did some laundry today…including putting clean sheets on the bed."

Blake enjoyed not only the way she blushed when she talked about the clean sheets, but the fact she appeared to have done her hair and put on makeup. She was even wearing sexy skinny jeans and a pretty pink top with enough of a V-neck to give him the perfect peek of cleavage.

She was the queen of ponytails, lounge pants, and the natural look, so it wasn't often he saw her with her hair down, her eyes accentuated with liner and mascara. Erika was hands down the most beautiful woman he'd ever known, with or without trying…but damn if he wasn't pleased by her efforts tonight.

He'd worried a good bit today, concerned maybe he'd taken things too far, kissing her the way he had, letting her feel his hard-on. Blake had made it damn clear what he wanted to happen tonight, so he'd mentally prepared himself for her to kick up a fuss, to hit him with more of that "we're better off as friends'' bullshit.

Now, it appeared all his anxious feelings had been for naught because not only was Erika not offering any resistance, it appeared she was all-in.

"What do you want for dinner?" He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans.

She waved, indicating he could put it away. "Don't bother. I already ordered us a pizza. Hope that's okay."

He grinned. "Never met a pizza I wouldn't eat. Unless it's a Hawaiian one. Ham and pineapple on pizza is unnatural."

She laughed. "I've already tried and failed to convert you to those toppings several times. I've long ago accepted that you don't know what you're talking about when it comes to good pizza."

"Says the woman who won't eat buffalo chicken pizza," he countered.

"It's the buffalo, not the chicken." She made a face, her aversion to spicy foods well documented. "Unlike you, I cannot drink hot sauce from the bottle. It should be here?—"

As if she'd summoned the pizza guy personally, the buzzer announcing she had company at the front entrance to the building went off. Erika crossed to the door. "Yes?" she said into the intercom.

"Pizza," the guy said.

She buzzed him in, then met him at her door, giving him a tip and thanking him.

Erika really had prepared for the night, carrying the pizza to the coffee table, drawing his attention to the paper plates and napkins she'd already set out.

"Beer or wine?" she asked.

"Whatever you're having."

She walked to the fridge, then returned to hand him a bottle of Stella. He popped the caps on both before tapping his against hers.

"To beer and pizza."

He laughed. "Amen."

Erika sat next to him on the couch as they reached in, grabbing steaming slices of pizza, thick with cheese and tomato sauce, pepperoni, and mushrooms. She'd ordered his favorite, and again, he felt like he'd been given an unexpected gift.

Nothing about tonight was going the way he'd anticipated. Not that he was upset about that at all.

"You doing okay?" He hated to remind her of this morning, but on top of worrying about how to get them from point A, the couch, to point B, the bedroom, he'd been stressed out about the shit Doug had put her through. He'd worked off quite a bit of pent-up aggression on the ice this afternoon, much to his teammates' dismay.

She nodded, and even gave him a genuine smile. "I am. My mother always said the best way to clear your head of negativity is to clean. So, on top of the laundry, I'm happy to say my closet has never looked better and there are currently six bags of clothes ready to be donated to charity."

"Damn. Very productive day."

"Yep. It was. And while I cleaned, I forced myself to face some painfully real facts."

Blake frowned. "Like what?"

"Like I am the worst judge of character when it comes to the guys I date."

Blake grimaced. "When it comes to Doug, I agree wholeheartedly. However, I wouldn't know about the rest. You're frustratingly tight-lipped when it comes to talking about your past relationships."

Erika rolled her eyes. "That's because I'm afraid you'll reciprocate, and I don't have eight hours to dedicate to listening to you go into detail about all your sexual escapades."

"You're only allotting eight hours for that?" he joked.

Erika snorted, then took a swig of her beer. "See? Ain't nobody got time for that."

Blake did a quick cross-his-heart motion. "I promise this doesn't have to be a tit-for-tat conversation. I'm just curious about this big bunch of duds you've apparently dated."

She giggled softly. "Not sure I'd call it a big bunch."

"How many exes are we talking about?"

Her smile faded into a grimace. "Two exes and one oopsie."

Blake tried to hold back his astonishment, but he failed miserably, his eyes widening. Erika was a gorgeous, intelligent, fun woman. How in the hell had she made it all the way to thirty with just three lovers? "You've only slept with three men?"

"Yup." She raised one hand, wiggling her fingers adorably. "Haven't even used all the fingers."

It was on the tip of his tongue to let her know she was never going to fill a one-handed quota, since her count was ending with him.

He was going to be Mr. Number Four and that was where her count was ending.

Still, Blake shook his head in disbelief.

"Don't look at me like that." Erika narrowed her eyes, though there was no heat behind her words or expression. "I told you when you were laying on the charm after I moved in…when I date, it's with an eye toward a committed relationship."

"So who were these three losers?" he asked, genuinely curious. "I already know you didn't lose your virginity to that prick Troy."

She grinned. "You have a bad habit of calling my exes names. Troy's a prick, Doug a tool. The rest are losers and duds?"

"If the shoe fits…" he grumbled. "FYI, Doug wasn't an ex. He was an asshole, and one who'd better hope he never runs into me again."

She reached over and placed a hand on his, giving it a quick squeeze. "Did I say thank you for this morning?"

"You don't have to thank me."

"Even so…" She leaned toward him, bumping her shoulder against his. "I do appreciate it."

"You're welcome. Now get to the good stuff." He waved his hand impatiently, aware she was stalling.

"Fine. I lost my virginity to the guy who was probably my first boyfriend. I'm not counting Troy because…well, I don't want to."

"I don't think he counts either."

"Reed and I lived in the same dorm our freshman and sophomore years of college. He was a…" Erika hesitated, and he realized why when she reluctantly finished, "Nice guy."

Blake chuckled. "Sounds to me like you have a type."

She huffed out a breath. "There's nothing wrong with being nice."

He didn't bother to pick at that argument because he didn't want to distract her from the conversation at hand. "So what happened with Reed?"

"He joined a fraternity toward the end of our sophomore year. Suddenly, it wasn't fun having study dates in the dorm room with your girlfriend when you could be getting wasted at the frat house. In the end, it turned out our goals for college were too different. He wanted to live the experience, while I wanted to earn a four-point-oh and get into medical school. He started partying all the time, and it ended when he found himself a bottle-blonde sorority girl named Amber, who he decided was more his type."

"Easy?"

His joke landed, and Erika smacked his arm as she laughed. "Totally."

"So who was the next boyfriend?" he asked.

"Charles. We met in medical school. We were friends the first couple of years, and then it turned into something more. We dated fairly steadily the last two years."

Blake was surprised he'd never heard her mention Charles before. "That's a long time to date someone, and the two of you were in your twenties—adults. You didn't think he was the one?"

"Actually, I did," she admitted. "But it turned out, he didn't. He was from an incredibly wealthy family in Boston. The type who live in legit mansions and spend their summers in Martha's Vineyard. I met his parents the second Christmas we were dating. It became obvious very quickly that they considered his relationship with me as Charles slumming it, especially when his mom introduced me to their neighbor's daughter, Sylvia—and I realized exactly who the folks were hoping he'd marry."

"Slumming? Seriously? You were studying to be a doctor. You're gorgeous, smart?—"

"And the daughter of two lowly schoolteachers," she said, though he could tell she was trying to be funny. "Things were strained between us after that holiday. I thought it was because I was struggling to bring up the conversation about how his family didn't like me. Turns out, the real reason we weren't getting along was because he'd slept with Sylvia the night after I left Boston. I'd gone home to spend the rest of that holiday with my family."

"What a dick! Jesus."

"Yeah. I have to admit, that one hurt for a long time."

"So who was the third? The oopsie?" Blake asked, curious.

Her mouth twisted, and it was obvious she didn't want to talk about number three. "Danny. I usually just refer to him as my moment of weakness. We were neighbors, both of us living in the same apartment building—the one I lived in prior to moving here. He was a good-looking guy and…"

"And?"

"I found out through a friend of a friend that Charles and Sylvia had gotten engaged a few months after I'd started my residency here. I was depressed and alone and out of wine, so I headed to a convenience store on the corner. I ran into Danny on the way back home. One thing led to another, and we split the wine and spent the night together.

"You know me and my silly brain. Sex isn't just a physical thing for me, so I stupidly thought what we'd shared was a genuine connection. The next morning, I was certain that we'd begin dating. Danny did not feel the same. I asked him out a few times before I finally got the message that he wasn't interested. So basically the seven months after that, until my lease ran out, was scattered with lots of awkward encounters whenever we ran into each other around the building."

And now Blake understood why Erika had been so dead set against going out with him.

She sighed. "I'm completely color blind, Blake, because I've never seen a red flag in my life. Both my long-term boyfriends cheated on me. I tried to make a one-night stand into a relationship, and me thinking that Doug was actually a nice guy just proves that time hasn't made me any smarter when it comes to romance and dating."

Blake wanted to tell her that he was the right guy, but then it occurred to him—they'd never been on a date. The second he had the thought, he found himself planning their first. He'd take her to The Capital Grille for a romantic dinner, then they could walk around Fell's Point and the Inner Harbor, holding hands, stealing kisses. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't wait to make it a reality.

"So…at the risk of losing the next eight hours…do I want to know your sexual partners number?" Erika asked, reminding him that this conversation was about past relationships, which felt very New Relationship 101 to him. Of course, Blake had never cared about any of the other women he'd slept with enough to ask about their dating history.

He tilted his head as if he didn't hear her question. "What?"

She repeated it, and he frowned.

"I can't hear you."

Erika asked again, while he pretended to clean out his ear.

"You really need to stop mumbling," he joked.

She laughed. "Fine. I've clearly gotten my answer, and you're right. I probably don't want to know."

"None of those women matter, Erik. The only one who matters is sitting in front of me. Here and now."

"Here and now," she repeated.

"I didn't like waking up alone this morning." He moved closer.

"So you said." Erika split the distance between them, her thigh pressed tightly against his.

"I notice you're not running for the hills." His face was close enough to hers that he could feel the heat from her breath.

"You're right," she said, moving so close that his cock went from half-mast to rock-hard in record time. "I'm not."

"Are you thinking about it?"

She shook her head. "Not even a little bit."

"Erik." His lips touched hers as he spoke.

"Hmm."

"Bedroom. Now."

Erika never missed a beat, rising and then—God help him—reaching out to take his hand.

A wiser man might have kept the conversation going between them. Might have spelled things out rather than jumping straight into bed.

Sadly, Blake didn't have enough blood in his brain to play the part of the wise man. And he wasn't convinced it was necessary. Erika was the one who always needed to talk things out, to lay all the cards on the table, while he tended to lead with his instincts, going with the flow. He was impulse to her structure, spontaneous to her organization. Together, they were both sides of the coin, the yin and the yang, the peanut butter and the jelly.

He'd waited for this moment for three long years, and now that it was here, he wasn't about to delay a second more. If Erika didn't need to discuss it, then he sure as shit didn't.

He turned her once they were in the bedroom and before she could process his intention, he had her shirt off and on the floor by their feet. Within seconds, her bra was with it.

Blake's gaze traveled down as he fought to catch his breath, kicking himself for letting so much time pass without claiming this woman as his.

If anyone had asked him a month ago about his life, he would have described it as perfect. Wonderful family, dream job, great teammates, and the best friend anyone could ever ask for living across the hall.

He'd literally been the biggest dumbass on the planet.

"Blake," she whispered, looking at him through those long, thick lashes. "I want you."

He closed his eyes and thanked every deity ever worshipped.

"I want you too."

Then he lowered his head, pressed his lips to hers, and showed her just how damn much.

* * *

Erika tried to draw in a breath, tried to steady herself. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to rattle off her entire crappy romantic history to him, but once she started sharing, she couldn't stop. Because no one knew her as well as Blake did. Not even her parents. Once she began filling in the missing pieces, it just felt right, opening that door, letting him see every single part of her.

She wasn't sure where that confidence was coming from. If anything, sharing all her romance horror stories should have solidified just how shit she was at finding a man who would look at her, see the real her, and not let his gaze drift around immediately in search of someone else.

The thing was…when she'd come out of the bedroom earlier, when Blake had lifted his eyes, she'd felt seen. Truly seen.

But more than that, she'd felt wanted.

Sensible Erika should stop kissing Blake until they'd nailed down some answers. Like what he thought was going on here, what his intentions were. Like whether this was a one-time thing or a casual fling or…please God, more.

Unfortunately, Blake's kiss was drawing out the less frequently seen Wild Erika, the one she kept under lock and key twenty-four-seven. That version of herself didn't give two fucks about the whys behind this.

Maybe tomorrow she'd open her eyes and realize this was a mistake.

God, she was probably definitely going to do that. But she couldn't find it in herself to give a damn. Blake was right. All that mattered was here and now.

His hands cupped her cheeks in a way that made her feel cherished and possessed all at the same time. Blake's tongue slipped inside her mouth, the two of them sharing each other's taste. Beer and pizza. Delicious.

"I could stand here and kiss you all night," he murmured against her lips.

As good as all night sounded, Erika had gone way too long without a lover. Blake's masturbation lesson had only whetted her desire for something more, something real. Using her toys on herself might scratch an itch, but it didn't set every nerve ending in her body on fire, the way Blake was right now with a passionate kiss.

Finally, he pulled away, both of them drawing in some much-needed air. When he bent his head, clearly intent on continuing the kissing, she pulled away slightly.

His kisses were magic, but they weren't enough. Not right now, when it felt as if someone had detonated a bomb in her body, her pussy, her nipples, and every other freaking erogenous zone ricocheting with desires that bordered on painful.

All she wanted was him.

Inside her.

Now.

Blake chuckled. "Demanding much?"

Erika frowned. Fuck. Had she said that out loud? Guess there was no point in playing shy or coy now.

"Blake. Please." She was helpless to shield the neediness in her tone.

Blake tugged off his hoodie, the two of them naked from the waist up. While Erika had seen him shirtless countless times, she'd never been free to study him, to touch him, to taste. Bending forward, she placed a kiss just over his heart, then she drew her lips to the right, teasing the tight brown nub of his nipple with her tongue.

Blake's chest was completely bare, and fuck if it didn't look like it was chiseled in stone. He was a Greek god brought to life, sent down from Olympus.

He reached for the button on her jeans. Erika resisted the urge to rear back, her heart racing with arousal and the tiniest bit of nervousness. While she wanted to be here, that annoying, mean-spirited voice in the back of her head was telling her she was crazy to think she could keep up with someone like Blake in the bedroom.

Her sexual experiences were solely of the vanilla variety, leaving her with nothing more than a lifetime of missionary and doggie style under her belt.

The silence in the room was filled by the sound of Blake pulling down the zipper on her jeans. He tucked his large, calloused hands inside the denim, inside the lace of her panties, then he slowly pushed them down together. He followed, kneeling before her, lifting one foot and then the other to drag them off.

He remained there for a moment before rising again.

Her eyes met his.

Last night, when he'd dried her off and dressed her, he'd kept his gaze mostly locked on her face, playing the gentleman.

That guy was gone. Now that she was completely naked, Blake took a step back, his eyes traveling from head to toe then back again, stopping for longer glances of her tits and pussy.

"You're so beautiful."

She smiled at his compliment, until his look of awe flattened out, a scowl taking its place. Moving closer, he lifted her arm, turning it carefully, his fingertips stroking the skin.

"You have bruises," he said, that dark and dangerous tone she'd heard this morning returning as he took in the result of Doug's rough handling. Releasing one arm, he scowled at the bruises on the other as well.

"Kiss them better," she whispered.

Her words had the effect she'd hoped for as the two of them laughed breathlessly, recalling the night Blake made a similar request after his fight on the ice.

He did exactly as she asked, his lips so soft on the sore spots, he made her a believer, convincing her kisses really could heal.

She cupped his cheek. It was stubbled, a true five-o'clock shadow, his typical look. The only exception was the full beard he sported during playoffs, when no one on the team shaved, holding to that belief—superstition—that hockey should be their singular focus and personal hygiene is nothing more than a distraction.

"You know," she said softly, "this hero thing of yours is sort of starting to become a habit."

"I like taking care of you," he confessed, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt he meant it. Blake didn't view her as helpless. If he had, she never would have let him do as much for her as she did.

"Kiss me," she whispered, loving the way the mere touch of his lips against hers took away every bad thought and feeling she'd been having lately.

Blake didn't grant her request. Instead, he pulled down the duvet and gestured toward the bed. "Crawl in first."

She did as he said, her haste causing him to chuckle.

"You're so perfect, Erik."

She sat in the middle of her bed, watching as Blake toed off his shoes, then unfastened his jeans.

Erika forgot to breathe as he lowered the denim and his boxers together. "Oh!"

"Told you that dildo was small," he joked.

She hadn't believed that until now, but hell would freeze over before she admitted that to her cocky bestie.

Blake grinned, then he climbed into the bed. Tugging on her ankle, he used his strength—good God, the man was built like an ox—to pull her down until she was flat on her back. Then he crawled over her, caging her beneath him, giving her that kiss she'd requested.

Unable to resist, Erika decided to treat herself to a little bit of exploring, her hands touching his bare chest and midriff before roaming around to stroke his back and the top of his firm ass.

There wasn't a soft part on the guy. Literally, no part of him didn't feel like pure steel.

Blake's hands cupped the sides of her head so he could use his grip to deepen their kiss. She'd never been kissed so hard or so long. The edges of her vision turned gray from the lack of air, and she started to feel light-headed.

She would have twisted away, sucking in some deep breaths, but Blake didn't appear to be in a hurry to move them on to the next part.

Releasing her, he placed a few more soft kisses on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, even her chin. "What are you thinking about?"

She frowned. Thinking? "Uh…"

Blake gave her a cat-who-ate-the-canary grin. "So, nothing. That's my girl. Just wanted to make sure you weren't making some sort of list in your head."

Erika believed in giving credit where credit was due. "No lists. Just thinking about you. And those kisses. Did you take a class or something? Major in kissing, because I've never… No one has ever…"

She expected Blake to laugh at her joke, but his gaze sharpened, his expression turning serious. "I've never kissed anyone like this, Erik. Fuck, I don't even usually like kissing, but with you…I can't stop myself. It's like you and your lips are a drug, and I'm already hooked."

Erika blinked a couple times, trying to process his confession. "I'm your drug?"

How awesome was that?

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed, giving her another kiss. This one was softer than the last five hundred, but no less powerful, no less potent.

As blown away as Erika was by his kisses, they were wreaking havoc on her libido, driving her arousal to dangerous heights.

"Please," she murmured against his mouth.

"Please what?"

"Blake. I want you."

His lips left hers, traveling across her cheek to her ear. "I know it's been a long time since…"

Erika sighed, reading the concern on his face. Even in bed, Blake couldn't seem to turn off that caregiver gene. Unfortunately, it was misplaced and unwanted here. So she offered a tip she suspected would get her the results she desired. "I haven't had sex in three and a half years, Blake. So much time has passed, I've learned to live without it."

"Live without it?" he repeated, scowling as if she'd said something wrong.

"Yep."

Blake chuckled darkly. "Oh, Erik. I'm going to prove to you exactly how ridiculous that statement is."

If she weren't so freaking horny, she'd call him to task for being a smug ass. However, she was also kind of afraid he would do exactly what he said. After all, his masturbation lesson had lit a bonfire inside her, and he'd barely even touched her, letting the toys do the heavy lifting.

Reaching toward her nightstand, he withdrew her nearly expired condoms. "Hate to see these go to waste."

She laughed. "Made it just under the wire."

Blake pulled one from the box, tearing the package open with his teeth and donning the condom. She expected him to get right down to business.

But like everything about Blake, he took her by surprise, sliding down the length of her body, pressing her legs open and kneeling between them, his face even with her pussy.

"What are you—" That was all she managed to say before he sucked her clit into his mouth. "Ah!" Her hands flew to his hair as she sought something to hold on to. Blake's lips, tongue, and teeth should be declared lethal weapons.

"You're going to come on my mouth for the first orgasm, Erik."

She closed her eyes, seriously praying because she wasn't sure how many of Blake's orgasms she could survive. He'd given her two that night with her toys, and she'd fallen into the deepest sleep of her life. Something told her he was going to go for broke this time around.

Her fingers clenched in his hair, and he hissed.

"Sorry," she murmured, loosening them.

Blake shook his head. "Keep holding on tight," he demanded. "I don't mind a little pain."

She didn't intend to follow that directive, but Blake took the decision away from her when he nipped at her clit, biting down until she wriggled, trying to decide if it hurt or felt amazing. That internal debate ended when he pushed two thick fingers inside her, fucking her into oblivion as she grasped his hair, holding on for dear life.

Her back arched as she came, her body shaking like a giant freight train. Blake drew the climax out, his fingers not stilling until he'd wrung out every drop of exquisite pleasure.

Erika's hands fell away from his hair, her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath. She felt rather than saw Blake climbing over her once more.

His lips found hers, and she tasted herself on them and on his tongue.

Again, she expected him to move to the next part, but Blake still didn't appear to be in any hurry. He kissed her like a man with nothing but time on his hands.

When she opened her eyes, he broke the kiss and smiled at her. "You back?"

She nodded, suddenly realizing he'd been giving her time to recover.

"Good. Because I didn't want you to miss a second of this." Blake guided the head of his dick to her opening. "You're so hot, Erik. And wet. God, I could drown in here."

She loved the way he talked dirty to her. She wished she had the ability to do the same, but her vocabulary while in bed with him seemed limited to two words. His name and "please."

"Blake."

It was all she had to say. He pressed inside, one long, relentless thrust that didn't stop until he was fully seated.

"God!" she cried out, tilting her hips, aware that he hadn't even started fucking her yet and she was already wondering how in the hell she'd gone so long without this.

Blake dropped to his elbows, pressing his chest against her breasts. He resumed those heady kisses from before while his hips lifted and fell, his cock pistoning inside her in a way she'd never experienced.

Sex before Blake had been too tame, too boring, the equivalent of sitting in the doctor's waiting room thirty minutes past the time of her appointment.

Sex with Blake was a parade, a rock concert, and a hit Broadway show, all rolled into one.

He fucked her through one orgasm, slowing his thrusts but not stopping as she lay beneath him, certain one more of those mind-blowing climaxes would kill her.

Once she recovered, he withdrew, flipping her to her stomach like she was his own personal rag doll. Lifting her hips, he returned—fucking her like a man possessed.

And throughout it all, he murmured a litany of all the dirty, kinky, amazing things he was going to do to her, vowing they hadn't even begun to scratch the surface.

Jesus! She'd never been taken with this kind of force. It was the single hottest experience of her life. Her third orgasm came at her from out of nowhere, figuratively knocking her on her ass, her inner muscles clenching so hard, she saw stars.

Blake cursed. "That's right, Erik. Fucking hell, you sexy dirty girl. You're squeezing me so tight, feels like you're going to crush my dick."

She trembled as the climax waned, every ounce of strength drained from her body. Not that Blake seemed to notice or care.

He withdrew again, flipping her to her back again. "One more time. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours when you come with me."

She shook her head. Or she should say, her head flopped just twice as she gave him a great impersonation of a fish on the shore.

"One more," he repeated in that dark tone that warned he was going to get his way.

"I'll die."

He pushed his cock back inside. "I'll bring you back to life if you do," he promised. His thrusts were slower this time, but even more forceful.

"I really don't…think…I can…" she said, fighting to draw air into her lungs.

Blake didn't acknowledge her protest. Instead, he tilted her hips, dragging her legs over his shoulders. This position was a killer, because on the next stroke?—

"What the hell?" she gasped.

"G-spot," he replied, hitting it again and again.

She'd never met that fellow before, but damn if she didn't like him. A lot.

"Oh my God!" Apparently, her body hadn't gotten the memo that she was finished with orgasms, because in less than a dozen more thrusts, every single one hitting that spot, she fell off the cliff for the fourth time, and mercifully, Blake followed her down.

They remained there, connected, neither speaking for several minutes, just staring into each other's eyes, before Blake finally withdrew and dropped down next to her on the mattress.

"Still think you can live without sex?"

Erika grinned. "I don't think I can survive the next twenty minutes without it."

Blake laughed loudly. "Set a timer for fifteen minutes, Erik. Because I'm definitely going to do whatever it takes to keep my girl alive."