Author: Lorelei James

Chills erupted across her skin.

“Relax.”

Then he pulled back the fleshy part of her mound, revealing her clitoris. Something small and firm rolled over her clit. Not Blake’s tongue, as it was lapping her left nipple.

Willow’s breath caught at the direct stimulation. Not cold, not hot, just constant.

After a few more circles around the throbbing flesh, the ball passed over her slit to stop at her opening. Blake’s finger pushed the ball inside her channel, not deep, but far enough she knew it was there.

When she gasped, he murmured against her breast, “Bear down around my finger.”

She squeezed.

“That’s it. Damn you are so tight. And slick.” His mouth meandered up to her ear and he blew gently. “I like that I can make you wet.”

“Please. Blake—”

“Patience. It’ll be worth it, I promise.” He eased his finger out and began rubbing another one of those mysterious balls over her clit.

This time as he teased her with the ball, he suckled strongly on her nipples. Alternating sides with nips of his teeth and light, wet whips of his tongue.

He rolled it down her cleft, pausing at her entrance.

Willow held her breath as he inserted the second ball next to the first. She tightened her innermost muscles around his finger without him asking.

Blake groaned. “Jesus.”

By the time the third ball began sliding across her clit, in that same maddening, arousing rhythm, she noticed something else. The aroma drifting up from her body. Her musk mixed with something syrupy sweet, like…cherries.

Her eyes flew open and she glanced down.

He smiled at her. “You obeyed longer than I thought you would.”

“Are you…are those maraschino cherries?”

“Yep.”

“But you’re…”

“Playing with them. And playing with you. Let’s call it the bartender’s version of Ben Wah balls.” He rolled the cherry through her wet folds and pushed it inside her. “Plus, cherries are my favorite fruit. Next to tastin’ your sweet love fruit.”

Willow’s face heated. “Umm. How are you going to get them out?”

Blake fell to his knees. “With my tongue.”

A little flutter started in her stomach and spread lower.

“Don’t tense up. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

He clamped his fingers on her ass. He bent his head and placed his mouth over the mouth of her sex. He began to lick his way inside her pussy. His tongue stroked and he sucked, making soft happy noises.

That concentrated licking was beyond divine and she moaned her approval of his retrieval technique.

Just when Willow thought he’d never be able to reach far enough inside without burying his entire face in her, she felt the cherries slide down a fraction. “Oh.”

Blake lifted his face and grinned. Between his teeth was one maraschino cherry. He closed his eyes and bit down on it, making a growling sound. “Juicy. One down, two to go.”

She whimpered.

Cherry number two rolled right into his hungry mouth.

The third cherry proved difficult to extricate and Blake spent more time sucking than licking.

Not that Willow complained. In fact, she was a having a hard time getting her brain to focus on anything besides the words wet, hot, more.

Once the fruit was within reach, Blake curled that talented tongue around it and slurped it into his mouth. “Mmm.”

Willow watched him chew and swallow, wondering what he was thinking. Would he give her a play-by-play of what he planned to do to her next? Or would he ask her what she wanted?

Neither.

Blake slid his hands up the inside of her thighs. He bent his head and fastened his mouth to her clit.

After all the teasing and build up, his relentless attention to that swollen bead set her off. She came fast. She came hard. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, until she slumped against the wall, her arms too wobbly to keep her upright.

Through her ragged breathing and pounding heart, she heard Blake stand. His hands, smelling of cherries and of her, curled around her face. She blinked up at him.

“I need to f**k you. Now.” He lifted her off the stool as if she weighed nothing.

Willow wrapped her body around his, still half-shaky, still a little unsure on his plans.

He took her to the end of the bar where a brass handrail separated the waitress station from the counter. He buried his face in her neck. “I wanted to take my time with you, but I’m too far gone to be gentle or easy or slow.”

“Whatever you want.”

Blake spun her around and set her on her feet. “Grab onto the rails.”

She heard the chink of his buckle loosening. The zip of his zipper lowering. The rustle of his pants sliding down. The crinkle of the condom wrapper as he put it on.

All sexy sounds that rebuilt her desire to fever pitch.

Then his mouth was by her ear and his hands were on her hips. “Bend over and grab onto the rails. Good. Now put your feet on the tops of my boots.”

Blake had a wide stance. And when she stepped up, she knew why. His sex was perfectly aligned with hers. The tip of his c**k circled her entrance once and plunged in. “Sweet Jesus do you feel like heaven, Will.” He pulled out. “Hot.” He slammed back in. “Tight.” Back out. “Wet.” Back in. “Perfect.”

She held on, giving herself over to the moment, giving herself over to this man. Tingles radiated from a spot deep inside her, awakening the tight, achy knot of need, warning something explosive was about to be unleashed.

“Do you know how sexy you look? With your skirt flipped up? With the way you arch toward me every time I push into you?”

“Blake—”

“I can’t hold back. I need…” His strokes quickened. Deepened. Then Blake shouted and his c**k jerked inside her. He groaned when she squeezed his thick shaft with her interior muscles.

Enthralled with his primitive response, she didn’t notice his hand dipping between her legs until he started lightly thrusting again in time to his stroking finger.

“Come for me.” He canted his pelvis, changing the angle so the head of his c**k rubbed inside on the spot below her pubic bone.

Willow lost it. Her pu**y and cl*t pulsed together, sending her into an orgasm that robbed her of breath.

Through the sexual haze floating over her she felt Blake place his hands over hers on the rail. He murmured, “Now I know the real reason you were crowned Miss Firecracker. Damn woman, you are explosive.”

“Seems a great big match is what it takes to set me off.”

He laughed and brushed his lips across the back of her head. “Please come upstairs with me.”

She liked that he didn’t assume. “I’d like that.”

Chapter Eight

Blake led Willow up the dark staircase to the apartment.

What about Willow brought out his beastly side? He’d never acted so aggressive. Was he giving her something to remember him by? Or a reason for her to ask him to stick around?

And Willow’s uninhibited response had stunned him. Especially dropping to her knees and sucking him off in the storeroom with a bar full of people right outside the door.

She stopped abruptly, knocking him slightly off balance. He turned but he could hardly see her. “What’s wrong?”

“You weren’t even listening to me.”

“Sorry. You’re right.”

“You aren’t going to lie?”

“I don’t lie. Besides, what’d be the point?” Blake backed down a couple of steps until they were almost eye-to-eye. “But I will give you an excuse.”

“What?”

“I was thinking about you. How sexy it was you were all in for the games we played.” He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I can’t wait to do it again. Does that make me a pig?”

Willow watched him intently.

Blake kept stroking his thumb over her temple. “Will?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” she blurted.

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good. I think. But being with you makes me want to do very bad things.”

“Things are only bad if they’re illegal or if someone gets hurt. And as far as I can tell, nothin’ you and I have done qualifies on any level.”

She retained a skeptical look and Blake figured he needed to lighten up.

He smooched her forehead, her nose, her chin and her throat. “You hungry?”

“You’d cook for me at two in the morning?”

“I’d cook for you anytime you asked, sunshine. So, how about a buffalo chicken wrap?”

“Sounds yummy. I am pretty starved,” she admitted.

“I’ll fix you up.”

Inside the apartment, Blake flipped on the lamps in the living room. He glanced at her and grinned. “Let me slip into something more comfortable and clean up before I get busy cooking.”

“Feeling a little sticky?”

Blake let his gaze drop between her thighs. “No more sticky than you are I imagine.”

That got her. She blushed.

He smiled again. Smirked really. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

Blake ended up jumping in the shower. After running a comb through his tangled curls, he slipped on a baggy pair of faded cargo shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt with “Healing Touch Massage” emblazoned on the front.

He saw her sifting through the pile of paperbacks on the coffee table. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Without turning around, she asked, “Are these your books?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read all of them?”

“Most of ’em.”

“Really?”

Why did she sound surprised he liked to read?

Willow held up a thriller. “What did you think of this one?”

He shrugged. “Left me a little cold. Seemed the author wanted me to know he’d done his research. Too much worthless information in it.” He paused. “Have you read it?”