“Did you want him to?”

“No.”

He slapped my pussy, a sharp motion that sent a shock of pain and unexpected pleasure through me.

“Truth, Erica,” he snapped.

“I wanted it to be you,” I rushed. “If any part of me wanted those things, that was why. But I’m telling you the truth when I say I didn’t feel anything.”

“You mean to tell me that he held you in a kiss long enough for Risa to see, with his goddamn tongue in your mouth, and you didn’t feel a thing?”

I closed my eyes, hating all of this. Everything was confused, as mixed up as I had felt when I let James too close that day. My throat constricted with emotion.

“Blake. Please believe me. Everything happened so fast. He caught me off guard, and maybe for a split second, yes, I thought I wanted him. But then I couldn’t stand it. Even believing you were gone, that I’d never have you again, I didn’t want him. I wanted you, but he’s not you. He’ll never be you. Even if you hate me and punish me, that will never change.”

My voice was watery as I uttered the last words, the truth that would haunt me to the day I died if he ever left me. God forbid, he’d ruin me forever.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why the fuck did I have to find out this way?”

I bowed my head. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Blake,” I said, but it was too late for that.

“Do you have any idea how furious I am right now?” His voice was lower, dangerously low.

I chanced a look in his eyes. They were blurry through the wetness in my own. The lack of sympathy chilled me further. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” My voice wavered, but I was desperate for him to know it.

“Are you? And will you show me how sorry you are?”

“I’ll do whatever you want.” I reached for him, but he stilled me, holding my wrists away from him.

“What makes you think I want you after what you did?”

He could have pushed a dagger straight into my heart the way the words hit me. But his eyes told a different story. I saw fury there, but hurt too. Not enough to weaken the hard lines of his features, but enough to give me the smallest of hopes.

“You’re the only one I’ll ever want. Please don’t hate me. Blake, I was stupid and scared. I hate that it happened, that I gave up on us before we could find our way back to each other. I love you. Please...let me show you.”

He paused a moment before releasing my wrists. He rose and crossed the short distance to the couch. The swift rejection gave weight to the already heavy sickness in my belly. My breath left me at the whoosh of his belt leaving his pants. He held it in his hand a moment, a knowing look leveling me. My chest tightened, heaving under my now anxious breathing. Unexpectedly, he let it drop to the floor before settling himself onto the couch.

He unzipped his pants and freed his erection. He began slow strokes up and down the hard length. A different kind of tension rolled off him then, one I could release for him, if he’d let me. Several moments passed as he worked himself up, his gaze never leaving me. I pressed my fingernails into the tops of my thighs. I wanted badly to go to him, but he’d punish me if I moved without his permission. I didn’t dare speak it.

“Come here,” he rasped.

Relieved, I moved to stand.

But he cut me off. “Crawl. I want you on your hands and knees until I tell you otherwise.”

I hesitated a moment, and then began to move. The carpet pressed into my palms and stung my knees as I crossed the distance between us. My cheeks heated with embarrassment. This position delivered all the humiliation he could have wanted to deliver.

Nothing could diminish my wanting him, though. I sat on my heels between his legs, as willing as I’d been a moment ago. The engorged head of his large cock disappeared under his palm and reappeared as his hand slid to the base. The tip glistened with moisture. Licking my lips, I could nearly taste him. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than him in my mouth. I could take away this frustration, ease this ache that burned inside both of us.

“You want this?” Strain weakened his words as his pace quickened.

“Yes.” I lifted off my heels, my hands resting on his knees.

“You don’t deserve this. The satisfaction it would give you.”

The dagger he’d already lodged in my heart twisted. Like a wounded animal, I lowered.

“Please. Let me,” I pleaded softly.

His breath hissed through his teeth. I bit my lip, my own frustration mounting with the rise of his orgasm. The words seemed lost. Would he ignore me until he came? I slid my hands up his thighs and back down. I licked my lips, imagining his taste on them, the push of his desire between them.

“Let me please you, baby. I love you. I want to.”

His eyelids fell closed, his muscles hardening beneath my touch. “Fuck,” he groaned. His head fell back with a shaky breath.

Emboldened, I placed a hand over his, holding down his rapid movement. A second later he was deep in the wetness of my mouth. I circled his head rapidly with my tongue. My cheeks hollowed with a hard suck, and I took him as far as I could. I shifted and moaned, my thighs brushing together as I positioned myself so I could take him as deeply as I could.

That quickly he was at the edge. A few urgent shoves against the back of my throat, and he shuddered with a pained groan. He caught me by the hair and held me to him until he’d emptied himself completely, his cock twitching and throbbing through the aftershocks.

The ache of kneeling and the discomfort of the way he moved me for his pleasure faded into the background as I tasted him, breathed in his scent. From base to tip, I licked him clean. My lover, my beautiful tortured lover. I wanted to be this for him. I wanted to worship him, to serve him. I wanted to be everything for him, even in these dark moments when nothing made sense but the demands of our flesh.

He slipped from my mouth, and the sounds of our breathing filled the silence. My breasts were tight and heavy. Moisture pooled between my legs. I wanted him now, as angry as he’d been moments ago. But I fought the urge to show him, to ask for more. I let my hands slip back to my knees, breathing through the desire that surged.

He raised his head. His face had softened in the aftermath of his orgasm, but his jaw was resolute. “Touch yourself.”

Without another thought I reached between my legs. Pulling the moisture of my arousal over my clit, I began a rhythm. My eyes closed. A soft moan left my lips when I thought of his fingers there, pleasuring me.