Page 75 of The Beekeeper

My lashes fluttered against my cheek, trying to stay open but aching to shut—aching for him to kiss me.

“I just mean it’s fine because he was honest about not enjoying it…” I trailed off with a stuttered inhale.

Blaze cupped my face in his hands, his lips tracing the words, “Fuck him” onto my own before he kissed me.

Fuck him was right. Fuck Dan because Dan had never kissed me like this. All those promises, all those plans, and he’d never kissed me like he was starved. For a guy who was only interested in sex, he’d never kissed me like Blaze.

My mind swirled in a fugue as his lips and tongue teased and plied my own. The room fell away until I was only anchored to reality by the demands of his kiss.

Moaning softly, I swayed into him, every worry that the morning had conjured up disappearing with each deep stroke of his tongue. I latched my arms around his neck and hugged myself closer. My nipples pebbled into the hot wall of his chest, begging for his attention. Everything about me begged for his attention. No matter what aches I had, I wanted everything about last night to happen again. Right now.

“Blaze,” I whimpered as his mouth traveled along the path of my jaw to the sensitive corner of my neck. As soon as he found it, I shuddered, my hips instinctively grinding into him—into the hard length of his erection that pressed into my stomach.

“It’s not fucking fine, Harper,” he growled into my ear, and then, because he knew I needed it, wedged his thigh between my legs.

I moaned in relief—in the friction from rubbing my aching core against his thigh.

“How could he not enjoy this?” Blaze continued to mutter next to my ear, and I lost track of what turned me on more: the pressure against my clit, the flutter of his tongue into the spot on my neck, or just this—these words he didn’t have to say. This wrong it wasn’t his responsibility to right. “How could he not enjoy feeling your hot little cunt grinding against his leg? Soaking through his sweats? How could I not enjoy knowing how needy you are for me?”

I didn’t miss the moment the rhetorical questions became personal. With a ragged groan, he tore his head away and the next thing I knew, he’d lifted me.

“Blaze—” I gasped as my butt landed on the table.

He dragged a chair in front of me, and I caught a brief flash of the wet mark I’d left on his sweats before he dropped into the chair.

“Lie back,” he ordered, his hands bracketing my waist.

“What…”

His heady eyes flicked to mine. “I’m not done with my breakfast.”

I choked on air—on the idea lodged in the molecules of oxygen. And then I didn’t have a choice. He grabbed hold of the waist of my sleep shorts and forcibly pulled them over my hips, taking my underwear along with them. I had to lean back as he yanked them from my legs and threw them to the floor.

Wedging himself between my thighs, he wrenched them wide and put my pussy on full display.

“Blaze,” I choked, embarrassment washing over me. Maybe it was because it wasn’t dark outside. Maybe because we weren’t in my bedroom or even in my bed. Maybe because he had me spread open on my dining table where we ate—with his daughter—every day.

My hands moved to my stomach, clenching together to stop them from reaching down and shielding myself from his perusal. My breath hitched as he dragged his fingers along my seam, my core clenching like a greedy little monster for him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Blaze groaned, the sound a balm over my nerves.

His head turned and he proceeded to bite and then kiss the tender skin of my inner thigh, working his mouth closer and closer to where I wanted—needed him, but at an excruciating pace.

“Blaze,” I pleaded on an unsteady breath.

He made a low sound and straightened his head. I clutched the fabric of my shirt, feeling his mouth hovering over my pussy—the heat of his exhale like an invisible caress.

“Fuck, Harper,” he groaned and then I almost came right up off the table as his tongue flattened to me, and he took a slow, savoring lick through my center.

My feet flexed. My toes curled. I was trembling like a string about to snap.

“Please,” I breathed out.

“My expectation is that you will come multiple times when we are together,” he drawled.

Another slow lick, my clit practically buzzing out of my skin when the tip of his tongue flicked over it.

“Oh, god,” I panted, tearing at the fabric of my top now. “Blaze, please⁠—”