Crash for Me (The Blankenships Book 7) Read Free Page A

nod.
     
    “I understand.” He closed his eyes and then opened them. All that pain, all that rage, he’d choked it down, and she could see it strangling him, but still he smiled at her, still he gave her the choice. “Tell me what you want.”
     
    It was on the tip of her tongue to play the good little sub, and say that she wanted what he wanted, bat her eyes, and pretend that the pain and fear were all part of the game, but that would have been lying, and she knew without question that he’d had more than enough of that in his life. “I don’t want any spanking or whipping again. I’m not ready for that yet. Not after everything else that’s happened. Beyond that, I’m open to whatever you suggest.”
     
    She’d hoped to see him smile, maybe even see the heat curl up through his eyes again. She didn’t expect to see wetness glimmering on the lower lashes of his eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
     
    “Deserve is such a dangerous word,” she replied. “Who’s to decide what we really deserve?”
     
    He looked at her like she was some kind of sage, some brilliant worker of words, and it made her shimmy in the sexy lingerie he’d bought her. She pulled her leg back, then reached around and managed to hook her ankle around his waist. He let her draw him in for a kiss, a sweet kiss that stayed sweet for much longer than she’d expected. Their sex since the awful night of the shooting had been so cold, so angry, utterly about claiming each other as warm fires to keep them from freezing during the long nights when there weren’t enough people breathing in the penthouse. This was different. This was a kiss that said they’d journeyed through hell, and there was more hell coming, but they’d face it together. His fingers caressed her face, and hers tightened in impotent fists as she thought of raking them through his hair.
     
    For a long time, it was just kisses, just the slow glide of mouths moving over each other, teeth testing lips, tongues gliding. There was something so different about kissing as an adult. As a teenager, she could remember the frantic urge of making out with someone, the rush to get as much arousal in as possible before one or the other of them yanked the plug. This was different. Sex would come. This slow burn of arousal would burst into conflagration. Later. Right now? It was enough.
     
    The moment when it moved from enough to nothing like enough was fast, so fast she almost missed it. His fingers brushed over her cheekbone again, but this time, instead of moving back to the front of her face for another slow, sensitizing sweep, they slid back to curve down her neck, over her collarbone, to rest over the top of her breast. She took a deep breath, and her nipple brushed over the heel of his hand, the rasp of the silk turning an accidental touch into a spark.
     
    And then things happened quickly. The angle of his mouth on hers changed, shifted, and the energy between them shifted wildly. His hand roamed her body more freely, with a sense of sampling what was to come. He slid one finger deep inside of her, with no real warning, and she shivered close to the edge of oblivious at the look in his eyes. “I own you right now,” he murmured. “You’re mine.”
     
    “Yours,” she whispered back.
     
    And then he pulled out the toy he’d brought from the playroom. It looked like a dildo, except that it had two loops of silicone at the base. She glanced at him, and then at the toy.
     
    “This way,” he said, running his hand over the erection tenting his pants, “you don’t have to choose.”
     
    She hissed with need and understanding as he stripped, slowly, and slipped between her legs. She spread her legs for him, lifting her knees, but he didn’t bring his hips towards her. Instead, he leaned down between her thighs, his mouth covering her mons and breathing hot air down over her flesh. “Oh, love,” she sighed, feeling her body clench around emptiness,