14. Amanda

CHAPTER 14

Amanda

I t takes me a few moments to realize where I am. There's a cushiony duvet wrapped around me, and under that, a warm, heavy arm around my side.

Blake's arm.

Oh my god.

I wasn't even drunk last night but it's all coming back to me now in flashes.

Hot, filthy flashes.

Jesus O'Malley.

I feel like I've been hit by a big giant sex bus.

The things he did.

The things we did.

His tongue.

His cock.

Getting caught by the librarian.

Speeding away from the school, laughing, nervous, the stars above us, feeling so fucking crazy.

Coming back here, having him fuck me mercilessly again until I thought I was a prism, shattering with colors.

Then of course Fluffy.

I try not to think about that.

I turn my head to look at Blake, his face smashed into the pillow next to me, deep asleep. Like most people he looks different when he's sleeping. Younger. Vulnerable. Sweet. Though I know Blake is anything but sweet. Sexy, funny, crude? Yes. Sweet? You must be mistaken.

Still, I like seeing him like this and being this close I can observe all the details without those eyes of his watching my every move. He's got two small moles on the left side of his cheek, near his dimples, a smattering of faint freckles across his nose that I don't think were there last month. They must come out with the sun. I lean in closer. There's a faint scar above his upper lip that I bet he got in a fight or from some embarrassing childhood accident.

"Get a good look?" he mumbles.

I gasp in surprise and jerk my head back. He opens one eye and looks at me.

"Were you just pretending to be asleep?" I say softly, my heart thudding in my throat.

Half of his grin is buried by the pillow. "I wanted to see if you'd pull the cliché staring at your sex partner maneuver."

"Sex partner?"

He closes his eyes and tries to shrug. "It's early."

"Well, now that you're awake, I have to go pee," I tell him, prying his heavy arm off of me. I crawl over him ungracefully and scamper to the bathroom, aware that I'm buck naked as I go. I can hear the bed squeaking lightly and he is so obviously turning around to watch me go. Thankfully I remember which door is the bathroom and I don't disturb Satan's hamster.

Once inside, I breathe a sigh of relief, taking in the cool masculinity of his bathroom, the privacy. I sit on the toilet and put my head in my hands and try to think.

But all I can do is smile .

I just had sex.

A lot of sex.

With someone other than Alan.

And it was the best fucking sex of my life.

And the guy who did it is lying in his bed, with his golden, toned body, all male, all in charge, and it's the guy I never thought it would happen with.

I know I have two choices now. I can go back in there, tell him it was a mistake, and for the sake of our careers we shouldn't do it again. Or I can go back in there and get royally, beautifully fucked again.

Decisions.

But a knock at the door brings me out of my thoughts.

"Are you decent?" Blake asks from the other side. "Or trying to climb out the window?"

I flush the toilet. "Just a minute," I tell him, quickly washing my hands.

I open the door and he's standing there completely nude, his dick looking spectacular even semi-hard. More images from last night flood my brain and I'm surprised at how fast I'm turning into a horny perv at the sight of a half-hard peen.

Of course I'm so distracted by that, that I forget I'm nude too. His eyes rake over my body, probing and relentless, and he gives me a lopsided grin. "I can't believe I have you standing here naked in my bathroom," he says, shaking his head. He then brushes past me. "I have to piss. Give me a second, then we'll take a shower."

Showering together? I quickly get out of the bathroom and find myself hovering in the hallway, unsure of what to do with myself. Again, I could tell him no.

Or I could shower with him.

I've never actually showered with a guy before. I'm not even sure if it's supposed to lead to sex.

Might be good practice for the next book , I tell myself .

Or I could just run like hell.

The door opens a crack and he peers at me through it. "Good. Thought maybe you left."

I didn't even get a chance. "I'm not going anywhere," I tell him.

He opens the door wider and strides over to the shower, and even though I saw his ass a million times last night during the Fluffy escapade, it's still a sight to behold.

What a fucking wonderful ass.

He turns around, the water running.

And an even better cock.

I mean. Damn. Seriously.

I could write an entire book about his cock.

In fact, I might have to.

I step into the shower, trying to shed any ounce of insecurity.

It's all gone the moment he lays his hands on me.

Soap works its way over my body, over every crevice, his hands gentle with just enough pressure, sliding over my breasts, my stomach, my hips, my thighs.

When I'm slick as anything I return the favor.

I soap up every inch of him as I take it all in, marveling at this fine specimen, his body belonging to a Greek god. Not kidding. Even the overlooked male body parts like calves and feet are perfect. His feet are huge and well-groomed with clipped toenails and no toe hair. His calves are long and broad with the right pop of muscle. No chicken legs, which is such a rarity on guys his age.

Then there are his thighs, looking like they could be sculpted out of gold and on display in a museum as some sort of feat of athletic prowess.

His abs? Zac Efron worthy.

His ass? I can't even go there. I could bounce quarters off it though. And I really, really want to sink my teeth into it, just to see what it feels like.

His back looks like he could rip a door off and throw it fifty feet.

Then again, his chest, shoulders, arms, all say the same thing.

He's not what he would call a "roid monkey," but I say he belongs on a book cover anyway. He's fucking perfect, and way, way too hot for a girl like me.

And I'm going to take complete advantage of it.

He's completely covered in foam from head to toe now.

"Rinse," I tell him, hanging the sponge back up.

He raises his eyebrows, wiping the water from his face. "Bossy."

But he steps into the stream, washing it off.

You see, I don't want soap in my mouth.

And I've been wanting to do this for a while now.

I get down on my knees, ignoring the hardness of the tiles and focusing on the hardness of his cock as it bobs in front of me, water rolling off the broad tip. I wrap my fingers around the thick base of his shaft, tentative at first. I can't remember how Alan wanted to be touched when I gave him head, and Blake is so much more experienced. I don't want to do it wrong.

I take in a deep breath, trying not to choke on the water, and slowly, carefully slide his tip through my lips. I let my eyes fall closed at the sound of his moan. The taste of him, mild in the water but still one hundred percent man, hits my tongue and spurs something deep inside of me, making me crave him even more.

"Shit," he murmurs, voice breaking into a groan, placing one hand against the wall to keep himself upright, those abs of his straining.

I slide my lips to the end then stroke along the underside of his shaft with my tongue, feeling how hot his skin is, smoothing over every vein and rock-hard ridge.

"Look at me," he whispers. "I want you to watch me watching you."

Boldly, I look up and our eyes meet in a current of lust until I put him in my mouth again. It's just too much for him. He pinches his eyes shut, forehead wrinkled, mouth dropping open as he sucks in air.

I want to take my time, watching him slowly succumb to me. There's so much power in my hands and nothing more intoxicating than knowing you're bringing a man to the edge. Blowjobs are not only underrated, they're addictive, and I can easily see myself having a bit of a cock craving when it comes to him. Or a lot of a cock craving. Whatever.

The moans that come out of his mouth now as I work him steadily with my hands, lips, and tongue, are becoming lower, like they're rising from a deeper, more animalistic side of him. I saw parts of this side last night and I want more of it. I want to see Blake surrender to me completely. I want to see him change into an animal with just one craving: me.

His legs stiffen and his body becomes strained, the tension building inside him. I glance up and our eyes meet briefly and his glazed expression tells me that he's in awe, that at least for now, he's mine and at my mercy.

I should be gentle with him.

But I'm not.

If anything, I'm emboldened.

My fist moves faster, slick and wet over his hot length, and my free hand moves up his legs until they find his perfectly groomed balls. I tug lightly, testing him.

"Fuck!" he cries out hoarsely. "I'm coming. I'm coming."

I try not to smile, knowing now what triggers him. His cock becomes hotter, his skin stretched under my lips, and I keep going as I feel him change in my grasp .

Every muscle in his body stills, frozen, as the orgasm hits him, then suddenly he's panting, his breath rough and ragged, and his cum is shooting into my mouth, almost to the back of my throat.

I swallow almost immediately, even though being in a shower is the perfect excuse to spit. But fuck it, he has no problems ingesting me, and when I'm all in, I'm all in. I want every part of Blake, not just some.

"My fucking god," he rasps, leaning against the shower wall, the water still spraying on us.

I carefully get up, my knees aching, trying not to slip on the slick tiles.

I place a soft kiss on his rounded shoulder.

He slowly turns to look at me, his eyes sated, his hair wet and flattened over his head, looking so goddamn beautiful.

"You," he whispers, sounding amazed. "Look at you."

I'm not sure what I look like, my lips swollen from sucking, my skin soaked, my hair sticking down my back.

But whatever he sees, he makes me feel like I couldn't be more beautiful.

When we're all clean and dry, it's tempting to just fall back into bed again. But Blake has to go to the bookstore to work for a few hours.

"You could keep me company," he offers as we get in Mr. Mean.

"I'd love to pop in for a second," I tell him, very conscious of not being that girl who gets clingy after sex. I've learned some things from Rio. "But I've got some errands I have to do in town. I can take the bus back to the school to get my car after."

He frowns. "You sure? I can drive you home when my shift is over."

I smile reassuringly, giving him a dismissive wave. "Don't worry about it. But thank you. "

"So," I say to him as we cruise down the busy streets of downtown, looking for parking. "What do you think your dad would say if he knew what we were doing?"

"He'd say, way to go, Son, she's gorgeous."

"I meant about the books. And would he really say that?"

He gives me a look. "Let's not go there. But books? He'd say I'm contributing to something that ruined his life," he says glibly. "What would your parents say?"

"They'd say I'm dragging the family name through the mud. Then they'd say that they're terrible parents and don't know where they went wrong and wonder why both their children ended up being such nonconformists." I pause. "Then my mother would tell me I'm going to hell."

"Tall order," he says. "Another reason to keep Blake Lovecox a secret until the end of time."

"Or at least until we get a movie deal."

"Agreed."

Despite how busy the city is with tourists, the bookstore is actually pretty quiet.

"I thought summer was your busy season," I say.

"It is. Usually when the Clipper ferry or the cruise ships get in. Give it another hour." He leans in close to me. "If it wasn't for that, this store would have gone under long ago."

"You're here," a voice booms from the counter.

I look over to see his father, who could be Blake's double, albeit shorter, rounder, and with glasses. It's funny, I'd always known him as the owner, and now to know him as Blake's dad makes things a lot more interesting. I'm pretty sure he yelled at me once when I was in high school for trying to read A Feast for Crows without buying it. As you can imagine, I was here for a long time.

"And on time," Blake says, flashing that charming smile of his on his dad. It doesn't seem to work on him though. Then again, it barely works on me…no, really .

Oh, who am I kidding?

"Who is this?" his father asks.

"Dad, this is Amanda," he says.

"Your girlfriend!" A kid's voice fills the air, and after a few thumps of feet running on the hardwood, I see who I can only assume is Kevin emerging behind a row of books and running toward me with a plastic sword drawn. "You exist!"

My eyes dart to Blake and I raise my brows in question. Girlfriend?

"Yes, my girlfriend," Blake says through a strained smile as he tries to pat Kevin's head.

Kevin shies away and comes right over to me. "You're his girlfriend. I'm his best friend," he says proudly, poking his thumb into his chest.

"This is my stepbrother Kevin," Blake explains.

"Did you tell her about LAIRE?" he asks excitedly.

"Laire?" I repeat. I'm still having problems with the girlfriend thing. Why would he tell them I'm his girlfriend?

"It's an acronym," Kevin explains to me, as if I'm dumb. "Live Action Interactive Role-Playing Explorers. There's a battle at Beacon Hill Park and Blake promised me that the both of you were going to take me there."

Obviously, this is the first I've heard of this. My gaze goes to Blake, amused. "Are you going to dress up like Loki?"

Blake frowns. "Um…"

"Because you know I'll go if you dress like Loki."

He wiggles his lips for a moment, trying to get out of it. "I'm not really sure that dressing up as other characters is allowed..."

"Yes it is!" Kevin says, waving his sword through the air. "That's why this one is so fun! It's like Comic Con but with fighting. I'm going as my own character, Betoolamous the Brave but you can wear whatever you want."

"Still think this is a mistake," their dad says with a sigh, turning back to the cash register. "Why can't you go to a Justin Bieber concert like other kids your age?"

"Dad!" Blake says in horror. "No. It's been years since that manchild was last appropriate for kids. He knocked up one of the Baldwins. He has a lightning bolt tattooed on his face ."

"Cool, I want a lightning bolt on my face," Kevin says with a wondrous look. "Just like Harry Potter."

"See what you did, Dad?" Blake says with a grimace. "Next stop, Post Malone."

"Actually, I think it's a cross on Bieber's face," his dad points out, glaring at them both. "But no one is getting any face tattoos!"

I watch them volleying back and forth for a moment before I realize I don't really belong here, and the longer I stand here, the more I have to pretend that this whole girlfriend label isn't weird.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Kevin," I say, giving him a slight bow since he's holding a sword and all. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Crawford."

"Likewise," he says absently, not looking up from the register.

"Call me," I tell Blake quickly before turning on my heel and leaving before things get weirder.

I'm halfway down the street when I hear Blake calling after me.

I turn to see him dodging a man on a unicycle before he catches up.

"Sorry about that," he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. The unicycle guy pedals past, muttering obscenities.

"About what? Volunteering me for LARPing or telling your family I'm your girlfriend?"

"Both," he says. "Come on, you know how I am. I had to tell them you were a girlfriend to get them off my back. I couldn't tell them you were my writing partner." He runs his hand through his floppy hair and looks off for a moment. When his gaze returns to mine, he flashes me a smug smile. "You know that we're just fucking. That's all we are, all we will be. It's just good fun."

Damn. I have to pretend that doesn't hurt. For all intents and purposes, it shouldn't hurt, but it does. C'est la vie.

"Right," I say flatly.

He studies me. "You agree, don't you? I mean that's what you want. To be partners that fuck on the side."

I manage a stiff smile. Sometimes I forget how crude he can be. "As long as writing is the priority."

"Good, yes. Of course it will be," he says, nodding quickly. He shoots a glance over his shoulder. "I have to get back to the store. Send me your files tonight and I'll turn them over to the editor."

"Sounds good," I tell him. "Talk to you later."

I turn away from him and head down the street as a force field comes over me, the one I used to have before I got all caught up in him. I don't have any experience with casual sex, but if I want to keep having my fun, I'm going to have to learn to rein all my feelings in before things get complicated.

Then again, I'm having hot sex with my writing partner. I'm starting to think it's complicated already.