Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family) Page 9

  Blake smiles.

  “What?” I ask, a little defensive.

  “I knew you’d do that.”

  “I like swings.” I feel like I’m flying whenever I’m in one. The one he ordered for the balcony arrived last week, and I spend about an hour there every evening.

  “The swing has been here for a long time too.” He pauses for a while, leaning against the bark of the tree. “Sebastian sat on it, with Summer in his lap, when he told us Mom and Dad would be selling the ranch.”

  “Oh, do tell.”

  Blake unhitches himself from the bark, walks over in front of me, and pushes the swing, sending me way farther back. He repeats the motion a few times, pushing harder, faster. I can feel the wind in my hair better this way. Of course, if I slipped from it, I’d faceplant straight on the ground, but I trust Blake wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

  “He’d already talked it through with the older gang and our parents. But he took Daniel, me, and Summer out here, explained it thoroughly. Said it’s a risk, but promised to take care of us.” His voice catches. “And he did.”

  “What did you say?”

  “We were kids, and this was something new. It was exciting for us. And Sebastian is the type of person you just can’t help trusting.”

  “So are you,” I find myself saying, just as the swing comes hurtling toward him. He pushes me away again, cocking a brow.

  “Which part of me spells trustworthy?”

  “The one that offered me a place to stay when I needed one, then set it up just the way I wanted it so I’d feel at home.” I hurtle toward him again, but instead of pushing me back, he grips the wooden board under my ass with one hand. The abrupt halt throws me off balance, and I let out a yelp. I’m going to fall.

  Just as the thought takes shape in my mind, Blake whispers, “I’ve got you.”

  His arm is around me, firm and reassuring. And then his mouth. This kiss is so different from our first one, gentle and slow, but it has the same effect. It makes me want more. I soak in all of the warmth and steadiness that is being held and kissed by Blake.

  He lets out a deep groan. I feel it reverberate through me, and the recognition that I spark that kind of desire in him turns me on. Blake eases me off the swing, still not letting me go.

  “Clara?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Let’s get back to the house.”

  “Okay.”

  I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to, but my entire body is buzzing with awareness. I like this man, and I can’t fight my attraction to him any longer. The tension is palpable between us as we walk back inside the house. You’d need more than a knife to cut through it—possibly a machete or an axe.

  We don’t enter through the living room but through a back door, and we don’t run into anybody. When we come in front of my door, he kisses the back of my hand, which is unexpected.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” he says. Also unexpected. I’m not sure exactly what I expected, but it was something more along the lines of “I’m going to back you against this wall and screw you silly” rather than kissing my hand and telling me he’ll shower. “If you want me to come to your room afterward, just unlock the connecting door.”

  Ooooh, now I understand the shower part. We’ve been wandering outside in the sweltering heat and we’re both sweaty. He’s being a gentleman.

  “It’s my choice?” I ask breathlessly.

  “Always your choice, and I’ll respect it.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he adds, “But if you choose to lock it, I’ll just have to try harder.”

  “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “Not when I want something as badly as I want you.”

  Dong, dong, dong. Yep, that was the sound of my defenses crumbling to the floor. At least for now.

  He kisses my forehead, then disappears into his room.

  ***

  I hop into my own shower, washing off the sweat and heat. Unfortunately, by the time I step out, I’ve almost convinced myself that this is silly, wild, and crazy, and I don’t do any of that. The key word being almost. Which is why after I dressed in my clothes for the party—a pink peasant blouse and a tight black skirt—I find myself in front of the connecting door, my hand on the key. Drawing in a sharp breath, I turn the key, unlocking the door. A sudden movement on the other side tells me that Blake was hovering in front of it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Clara

  When he steps inside the room, I take a moment to admire him. He’s wearing jeans and a tank. And he’s barefoot. He’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  Wordlessly, he interlaces his fingers with mine, kissing the back of my hand. My skin tingles at the soft brush, and my breath catches when Blake’s gaze traps mine, holding it captive. So much heat and desire are in his eyes it’s turning my knees weak. For a split second, I wonder what it would feel like to have his lips on other parts of my body if he’s having this effect on me when he’s only touching the back of my hand. I have a hunch I might not be able to take it. My body tightens at the thought.

  Letting go of my hand, he leans in, and his mouth feels like liquid fire against mine. He isn’t asking for permission. He’s taking, and I love every second of it. Blake is relentless. We break apart for just the briefest of moments. I take a deep breath just as he runs the tip of his tongue on my lower lip, then the upper one. I swear my mouth is wired to my center because this feels as if Blake licked me there. A deep ache takes hold of me, and I press my thighs together instinctively.

  “Fuck, it’s turning you on, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” My voice is low and breathy. Tipping my head up, he seals his mouth over mine again, driving me crazy. I reach out for him, grateful that he’s only wearing a tank. It leaves so much skin uncovered, ready to be touched and explored. I run my fingers up and down his arms, feeling the hard muscles, the veins on the inside of his forearms. I feel like he’s holding back, and I don’t want him to. I press my body against him. His skin is still hot from the shower, his hair damp as I run my fingers through it. Blake trails his mouth down my jaw, to the column of my neck, and lower on my collarbone.

  “I want to make you come, Clara,” he whispers against my skin. “Around my fingers, on my tongue.”

  I tug at his hair, heat pooling low in my body. “Blake.”

  “I want to taste your pussy. I want my mouth on you when you climax.”

  Oh my God. His words turn me on like nothing else. If he keeps talking like that, I will climb him right away.

  “Say yes, Clara.”

  “Yes.”

  Blake smiles a sinfully wicked smile with a delicious twinkle in his eyes.

  “I have to tell you though, I’ve never—” I take a deep breath— “I only have an orgasm when...I’m by myself.” I shift uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at him. I figure it’s better that he knows from the start because he seems very keen on the coming part. Blake slides two fingers under my chin, tilting my head up until he’s looking straight at me. His gaze is, if possible, even hungrier.

  “I will change that.”

  I shudder at the determination and promise in his voice. I open my mouth to argue, but he slams his lips over mine, his hands working the button of my skirt. Then he changes his mind and simply pulls the skirt up to my waist, which is even better because I’m not ready to be naked in front of him yet. He leads me backward through the room, and when my legs touch the wooden panel of the bed, I sit on the mattress. Blake lets out a deep groan. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve heard. Manly...almost primal.

  “You’re beautiful, Clara. I want to do so many things to you.”

  “Do them. All of them. Please.”

  “Lie back and open your legs for me.”

  I do, feeling more exposed than ever, even though my panties are still on.

  “Take your panties off.”

  Licking my lips, I lift my butt slightly, pushing down the black cotton thong, feeling Blake’s gaze on me the en
tire time. Once the panties are out of the way, he lowers himself until I can only see his head between my thighs.

  I inhale sharply as he places each thumb at the sides of my entrance, then slides them up and down my folds. I’m on fire, right until he blows a cold breath directly against my heated flesh. I shudder almost violently and my fingers dig into the mattress. Then he dips his tongue inside me exactly once, and I’m certain I’m going to break out of my skin.

  “Oh, Blake!”

  I plant my feet firmly onto the mattress, needing to ground myself. He pulls his tongue out, leaving me feeling empty. Then he licks up one fold, starting from my entrance right up to near my clit. He repeats the motion on the other fold, driving me absolutely crazy. Every synapse snaps to life, greedy for more.

  He draws circles with his tongue, starting from my entrance, and going up, up, up, then down again. But he isn’t touching my clit, never my clit. Each time his wicked hot tongue approaches it, I dig my heels deeper into the bed, anticipating the delicious—if brief—reprieve, but it never comes. Instead, my anticipation rises and rises, and it’s downright killing me. I’m panting frantically, needing a release from the sweet torture. I’m so turned on I can feel myself dripping.

  “Blake. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  A stirring low in my body alerts me that an orgasm is building inside me. The recognition sends a bolt of heat coursing through me. When Blake finally sucks my clit into his mouth, I explode. My hips buck up and Blake greedily cups my ass, digging his fingers into my cheeks. Even lost to pleasure as I am, I can feel his desperation, his hunger for me. The intensity of his passion sends me over the edge. My climax is so intense it leaves me breathless.

  He kisses my inner thighs, then comes up, resting his arms at the sides of my shoulders, caging me in. I want to tell him many things, but I’m still too high on pleasure to form a coherent sentence.

  He kisses me, and I can taste myself on him. My body reacts instantly, pressing into him.

  There is as much tenderness in him as there is passion, and that tugs at my heartstrings. I like being surrounded by him, feeling his chest press against my breasts, his arms at my sides. A strange thought occurs to me: I never want him to let go. With a shake of my head, I shove the silly thought aside, focusing on the here and now. Now that I’m not lost in the realm of lust anymore, I can see his eyes are hooded with desire—and his erection is pressing against my thigh.

  “You’re so sexy when you come, Clara.” His voice is rough, and I inexplicably think of whiskey and honey. I want to make him happy too, so I push him off. Once he’s standing, I climb down from the bed, standing on my knees in front of him, undoing the button, and lowering the zipper. I push his jeans down, but in my haste, grab his boxers too. Next thing I know, his erection springs free, slapping me lightly against my cheek. And holy hell. It isn’t just impressive; it’s about eight inches of huge.

  I wrap my palm around his erection, moving up and down, then bring my mouth to the crown, licking it once. Blake’s nostrils flare. Hmm...well that isn’t good enough. I wonder what it would take to make his composure slip, then resolve to find out immediately.

  When I clamp my lips around him, he moans out my name. Now we’re talking. I slide my mouth up and down, running my tongue over the tip every time I come up. Then I lower my mouth, taking more in. I’ll never be able to take him completely, but I want as much as possible.

  “How deep can you go?” Blake asks on a deep groan.

  In response, I lower my mouth more until I feel him at the back of my throat. It’s comfortable, but sweet heavens, so deep. Blake takes my hand and wraps it around his base, covering the part I’m not able to take in.

  In that moment, I look up at him, and I think this might be the most erotic moment of my life. I’ll make this good for him. I want it to be the best he’s had, just like he’s made it for me. I move my mouth and fist in unison, squeezing him as tight as I can, as fast as I can.

  “I like that you’re so greedy.”

  And I become greedier still. For his sounds of pleasure, for his heated looks. Every time I look up, his face is more contorted with pleasure. His composure has been long forgotten, and I love seeing this raw side of him.

  His hand goes in my hair and his fingers gently tug at my roots, moving in sync with me. In the beginning, I think it’s because he wants to guide me, but then I realize it’s to stop me just before I take him in too deep. When he widens inside my mouth, he tries to pull out, but I grab his ass with both hands.

  “Clara....”

  In response, I just dig my fingers in his ass cheeks. Blake comes the next moment, murmuring my name, and I love every second of it. I wait until he calms down and his breathing eases to let go and rise to my feet. Blake helps me, holding each of my hands in his. Instead of letting go when I’m steady on my feet, he pulls me closer and kisses me hard and hot.

  “You are amazing,” he says, buttoning up his jeans.

  “Ah, nothing you say now counts. It’s all the post-orgasm bliss. Look at you, you’re practically shining.”

  “I think my masculinity just took a hit. Shining, really?”

  “Would glowing be better?”

  He holds up a hand. “Stop right there.”

  That’s when I read the time on the grandfather clock behind him. “Oh God. I was supposed to help put up decorations.”

  Panicking, I push my skirt down—it was still around my waist—then look around the room for my panties. They’re under the bed. I bend to retrieve them, and I’m about to put them on when I realize I should wash first. Blake’s made me all sweaty and messy again.

  “I have to clean up,” I inform him, just as I dash past him and head to the bathroom. He’s not in sight when I get out again, but the connecting door is open, and I hear the sound of running water coming from his bathroom.

  I’m unsure if I’m supposed to wait for him or what the protocol for this is. Or where we stand. But right now, I don’t want to overthink or analyze. I just want to feel and enjoy. Also, he left the door open, which I take as a good sign. Curious about his room, I walk over there, closing the connecting door behind me. The room mirrors mine, only the color of the walls differing—mine are lemon, his are white.

  Several things happen when he steps out of the bathroom. First, he heads straight to me, pulling me into a kiss. Second, the door bursts open and Mia and Elena barrel into the room. I jump away from Blake. The girls stare at us.

  “Sorry, Uncle Blake, we’ll come back later,” Mia says. Not many people can tell them apart, but I can.

  “You’re late for the peparations,” Elena adds.

  “Preparations,” Blake and I say at the same time. “Come on, let’s all go out, then.”

  Elena walks to Blake, holding her arms up. Blake lifts her without being asked to. I all but melt into a puddle when he kisses her temple. Not one to be left behind, Mia holds her arms up too. Blake easily scoops her up as well. Oh my, he looks utterly irresistible with a girl in each arm. Not only because his muscles bulge slightly from the effort, though that’s a valid point too, but because he looks delicious enough to lick and climb. But what makes him most irresistible is the tenderness in him as he listens and talks to the girls.

  He’s still holding them as we stride down the corridor that leads to the living room. Pippa meets us halfway, looking flushed.

  “Here you are. You scared ten years off my life. How many times did I tell you not to disappear on me, girls?”

  “Sorry, Mommy,” Mia says.

  “We went to get Uncle Blake and Miss Clara,” Elena adds. Blake lowers the girls, and they each take their mother’s hand. “They were kissing, like you and Daddy.” Elena puckers her lips, and Mia mirrors her action. Blake laughs, Pippa smiles triumphantly, and I feel my cheeks burning.

  “They’re great matchmaking assistants,” I comment, not quite able to hide my own smile.

  “Ah, not quite yet. They’re barely reporting,” Pippa says, l
owering herself on her haunches and kissing each of the girls’ foreheads. “But I have plenty of time to train them.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Clara

  When we step into the living room minutes later, Summer, Nadine, Ava, and Mrs. Bennett are hard at work setting up the decorations. Lots to do, and I can’t wait to jump into it.

  “Where are all the men?” I ask.

  “Outside,” Mrs. Bennett answers. “In charge of the grill.”

  “On that note,” Blake says, “I’m going to join them.”

  He smiles at me right before he heads out, and my heart soars. Silly heart. It has no business butting into all of this.

  “How can I help? How much time do we have?”

  Summer gestures to me to come join her. She’s currently pumping up balloons. I sit on the floor next to her.

  “We have two hours until the party starts officially,” Summer says. “Landon just texted me. They’ll arrive on time.”

  Summer mentioned during the drive that some of their cousins, Landon included, would be here.

  “Can you give me a rundown of how many sides there are to the clan? I tried to keep track of everyone named Bennett at Alice’s wedding, but it was impossible. Then there were all those people related to you who aren’t called Bennett.”

  Summer nods. “Well, Dad was the oldest of a family of five. They each had many kids—that’s the Bennett part of the clan. Mom came from a family of four. Everyone had many kids. We have good genes. Shame not to pass them on.”

  “My head spins. I need a family tree.”

  “Most of the time, so do I, especially at weddings. But only Landon and his sister Valentina will be here today from the Connor clan. They’re cousins from Mom’s side. You probably met them at Alice’s wedding, but don’t worry if you don’t remember them. I think they’re bringing a friend too.”

  Two hours later, my fingers are numb, and the room looks unrecognizable. We have covered every coffee table as well as the large table in the dining area with Avengers-themed plastic tablecloths. Balloons hang so tightly together from the ceiling, it looks like it’s made of balloons. There are also figurines tall enough to reach up to my waist scattered around the room, depicting characters from the superhero franchise.