Home > Come As You Are(12)

Come As You Are(12)
Author: Lauren Blakely

Names don’t matter. Jobs don’t matter.

All I need to know is this man can kiss.

He can flirt.

He can dance.

He can talk.

He can play along with the fantasy I always knew I had but never pursued.

And there’s one more thing I want to know.

I break the kiss, murmuring, “And what happens next in the story?”

His green eyes are blazing, wild almost. But his voice is calm and confident as he holds my gaze. “The woman at the party wanted the duke to fuck her.”

I groan, my knees buckling as electricity skates wildly over my skin.

“She does want that,” I whisper. “I want that.”

He hisses in pleasure as I drag my fingers down his black pullover, exploring his firm chest through the fabric, then tiptoeing along the hard planes of his abs. I raise my fingers and run the backs of them over his chin. Holding his jaw in my right hand, I stare through the slits of his mask into those delicious green eyes. “You’re adorable, and I want you to fuck me.” I pause for effect. “In a fuck-me-senseless kind of way.”

He groans, and the sound seems to hum through him, rumbling up his chest, escaping his lips, which rise in a cocky, boyish grin. It’s like a wolf met a tiger cub and they spar for supremacy inside him.

“That’s exactly what I plan to do, Angel.”

He grabs my hands from his face and spins me around, raising my wrists above my head. The next thing I know, his long, lean frame is pressed against me, his chest to my back, his hard length pushing against the fabric covering my ass.

Ribbons flutter from my arms. My wings are spread. My dress is indeed giving me a whole new start.

Gently, he brushes loose strands of hair from my shoulder, exposing my neck. I tremble in anticipation, waiting, so eagerly. He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, and I shudder in its wake. One soft kiss there makes me weak and ravenous at the same time.

He kisses a trail to my earlobe, nibbling on it. My breath hitches as bursts of pleasure zip through me. There isn’t a part of my body, not a single molecule, not a solitary cell that doesn’t want whatever he’s going to give me.

He traces my neck with the tip of his tongue, and my murmurs turn into pleas. My body begs for him with an ache that vibrates from the very center of me.

I feel his hands move lower, down my sides, over my belly, along the front of my skirt, then under the hem. His fingers graze up my thighs, and a pulse beats between my legs.

“Masks on or off?”

I shake my head. “On. Leave them on. I like it like this.”

He kisses my earlobe once more, whispering, “As you wish.”

His fingers feather over my thighs, reaching the apex between them, traveling across my panties. It’s his turn to groan as he touches the wet lace that leaves nothing to the imagination. “You do like it, Angel.”

I nod on a ragged pant. “So much.”

His fingers dip under the fabric as he presses harder against my back, crowding me to the wall, caging me in. I tremble as he touches me for the first time.

He groans roughly, grinding his body against me. “So slippery.”

I’m already seeing stars. I’m hovering on the cusp of coming so very soon. I whimper as he runs his fingers across me, gliding, flying. It’s so delicious, every stolen touch from my stranger.

He moves faster, making me shudder, making me moan. I drop my head to the wall, my forehead hitting under a picture frame of a man on a horse, I think. Galloping away. That’s how I feel. Like I’m racing so fast toward something beyond the frame.

Pleasure winds its way up my legs, spirals down my chest, radiates in and out. Everywhere.

He pushes a finger inside me, then another, and I moan wildly, sounding like an animal as I grind down on him, seeking more friction, seeking my release. He rubs against me, fucking me with his fingers, stroking me with his thumb.

I’m so wet, so slick, and everything feels outrageously sinful.

The wild sensations coil into an exquisite tightening in my belly. Once, twice, and I’m there. I’m racing to the edge as he strokes, grinding his body against my ass as his fingers take me all the way.

My brain is static, a wonderful white-out, a blizzard with the snow blurring everything else in the world as I come. I tingle everywhere—my skin, my lips, my legs.

I’m panting, murmuring, as he spins me around, facing him.

When I open my eyes, drunk on my orgasm, he’s licking his fingers. He looks possessed. His eyes blaze as he stares at me, sucking me off his index finger. He presses his thumb against my jaw. “You taste like dessert. Next time I want to spread you out before me and devour you, but right now I’m going to fuck you just the way you want.”

He can do anything to me. “Take me. Have me.”

He reaches into his pocket and grabs a condom. Somewhere in the back of my mind I want to ask if he just carries it around, but then, he seems like the type of man who’s prepared for anything—a joke, a dance, or a fuck in a library at a boutique hotel on the Upper East Side.

As he opens the packet, my fingers busy themselves with his zipper, sliding it down until I reach the top of his boxer briefs. When his black jeans hang low on his hips, I push down his briefs, freeing his cock.

My mouth waters as I gaze at his length, hard and heavy and so thick. I run my hand across his shaft, and he stops opening the packet, his eyes floating closed, his lips parting, a shudder moving through his body.


This feels like power.

Like something I haven’t experienced in the longest time. It’s intoxicating, and I want so much more of it—of his reaction, of the vulnerability in the set of his jaw and the parting of his lips as I stroke him, feeling how aroused he is. His skin is hot and so hard, and I’m going to take him inside me. “I want to feel all of you.”

His eyes open. He shakes his head in wonder. “Who are you?”

I smile because I know he doesn’t actually want an answer, but I love that he’s asked the question. “Your mystery girl.”

He blinks, like he has to shake off the lust to finish the job of rolling on the protection. As he pinches the top of the condom, I slide out of my panties. He positions himself between my legs and hikes up my thigh around his hip. Guiding him, I rub the tip against all that wetness.

“God, you feel so fucking good and I’m not even inside you yet.”

He pushes in, and for the briefest second, I feel stretched in ways I haven’t felt stretched in too long. He’s so deep in me, I draw a sharp inhale, then I sigh blissfully.

I want to use his name. I want to say Duke, or Ninja, or John, or David, or Mr. Venture Fund, or whoever he is. Instead, I blurt out, “I don’t think it’s going to take me long at all.”

He moves inside me, stroking in and out, filling me. I’m vaguely aware of the sounds of the party from far beyond the door, the low beat of the music, the chatter of the crowd, and then us, all the sensations.

My pants. His groans.

The wet slickness of me taking him in deep.

His lips sliding across mine.

His breath on my neck.

The press of my back on the wall.

We’re in our own cocoon of one-night lust, of crazy, instant chemistry here in the library as the stealth start-up screws the angel investor against the wall. I band my arms around his neck, all the chiffon and funny money hitting his arms, his shoulders.

I look up at what I can see of his face, the cut of his jaw, the shape of his full lips, the brightness of his eyes, wondering who I let into my body.

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