The Arrangement (The Blankenships Book 9) (9 page)

He felt his hand up her spine, touching the base of her neck. “Look up,” he said, and that harsh edge was gone from his voice. “Look up and look at me.”

She tried to angle her head back to look over her shoulder without shifting her hips, but she wasn’t a comic book character, and the physics of it were just impossible. He tapped at her shoulder lightly. “Look in the mirror,” he said.

She followed his direction, turning to meet his eyes in the reflection, and the zinging connection shocked her. There was a sound, electric and intent, and she wasn’t sure if it was him or her who made it.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he murmured, bowing over her body to press kisses along the nubs of her spine. “I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to watch. You’re going to see yourself.”

She wanted to shake her head, to tell him no, that this wasn’t her kink, this wasn’t a thing that she liked, but she would have had to look away from him, and wasn’t this at least a little bit of the point? Didn’t giving over control to someone else mean that she was willing to try something new, something different?

The head of his cock, wet and slick with his fluids and hers, brushed against her swollen clit and her entire body arched, seeking him, driving for him, begging him to split her open.

“I said,” he murmured, and she felt the tug as he wrapped a fist in her hair and pulled gently but irresistibly, “That you should watch as I fucked you.”

There was nowhere to look but at him, so she focused on him. She watched his face as he pulled her hips down to him, pressing his cock up and into her, dividing her into two separate pieces with its thick length. A groan swelled up through her, originating in her swollen, aching clit and sliding out of her mouth without any input on her behalf. His teeth were locked on his lower lip, and she could feel his legs trembling at the sensation of him, buried inside of her. He rocked in and out of her, so slowly, so gently, that she wanted to urge him on faster. She wanted to see his control split open, and see the man inside, the raw man who fucked her heart and was utterly insatiable.

“Look at yourself,” he said.

She let her gaze fall down obediently, expecting to see herself, same as always, and go back to watching him in the mirror, but there was something there, something different. Her eyes. Her eyes were different than they had been. Colder, maybe, but more than that. More knowledgeable. Her arms were more sharply defined as they supported her torso, and her breasts—god, her breasts hung down from her chest, the clamps gleaming at the ends of the tightly compressed flesh.

He leaned forward and grasped the clamp on her right breast, pulling it free as he thrust deep inside of her, his pelvis brushing the angry flesh he’d beaten into her ass.

For a moment, the edges of her vision went pure white. Her ears filled with a high pressure humming, and everything was obliterated by the noise and the sight of her nipple turning a furious deep red as the blood rushed back into it.

And then she realized that she was screaming, furiously screaming with the unbelievable sensation of it, like pins and needles but somehow driving her to grind her clit against his dick, contorting her body to try and get more contact. He released the left clamp as well, and it was more than an orgasm, more than a release, more than sensation. She drove herself onto him viciously, desperate and needing, and then he wrapped a finger around her clit, and it was the one last grounding point she needed for the lightning to strike and bear her down to the ground with him as she came and came and came and came.

When she was aware of things again—a second, or maybe a minute later—his arms were around her as he knelt on the floor, and he was gently shifting against her, not doing anything more than maintaining his erection. She pulled herself free of him, then turned to face him. “You don’t have to—” he whispered, and she put a finger over his lips as she speared herself with him.

The sound he made had to come from his toes, from some kind of deep down secret place that drove him absolutely wild. His hands closed on her hips, though he didn’t set a rhythm for her, just gave her balance and structure. Her pussy was still clinging to him, still convulsing lazily around him, and she thought that maybe, just maybe, if she found just the right angle—

The lights burst around her again, but this time, he followed her over the edge, wrapping his arms around her hips and up her spine to support her body as he fucked her hard, grunting his orgasm into her ear, spilling more deeply and more thoroughly than he had in weeks.

She wasn’t sure how they got back to the bed. She wasn’t sure how they got cleaned up. She knew there was still come drying between her thighs, but she was quite sure that she could deal with it tomorrow. He slid the covers up over them and spooned her from behind, wrapping his arms high around her waist so that the one stripe from his belt that had wrapped around her left hip didn’t press against him. The flesh hadn’t broken, thankfully, but there was already a bruise forming.

“Tell me you got the room for the whole night,” he murmured in her ear. She could hear sleep weighing on him, thick and heavy.

“Marie insisted on it, in fact.” She wiggled against him, just enough that he gave her a tiny swat on the behind. “I absolutely expect a round 2 when we wake up in an hour. And a 3, and maybe a 4.”

She couldn’t see his eyebrow go up, but she could feel it. “You know, I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said.

“No, but you’re just as young as I need you to be.”

His fingers hadn’t left her thigh after the swat. He rested where the bullet had hit her. “Does it hurt?” He asked.

He hadn’t asked before, not like that. He sounded vulnerable, frightened of what answer she would give. “A little,” she said, unwilling to lie, but not wanting to make him feel worse than he already did. “But only if I use it for too long. Stand for hours or something. The doctor says that’ll keep getting better, and the best thing I can do is to keep using it.”

“I wish—” He sighed. “I wish that I could wish that none of that shit happened without that meaning I’d wished you out of my life.”

Something in her went cold and still. “Not a great trade, huh?”

“What?” He kissed her neck. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just hate that I both lost them and gained you.” His lips moved against her skin in what she recognized as a smile. “I think if you’d met her at a different point in her life, you might have really liked my mom.”

“Maybe,” she said, because it cost nothing to let him be right, and besides, she was tired, and sleep was stealing her away into darkness. She let it come and carry her away, hoping that he would follow her, just as he had all of these days.

They were in this together now. She would bring him home to meet her parents, and she’d ask him to marry her again when they weren’t in a life or death situation. She had to choke back a laugh; weeks ago, he’d promised to help her find a new, more prestigious job. She was going to take him up on that.

The first few weeks they’d known each other had been one unending nightmare, but Zoey was entirely sure that the rest of it, well even if the nightmare continued, she was sure that Alex had her, and she had him.

And if there was anything they’d proven, it was that together, they could do anything.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Evelyn Glass is a native of northern California who currently lives in New England with her wonderful husband and their two rambunctious Corgis. 

Her favorite past times include hiking and reading near the fireplace.

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