"Come for me, baby." I wanted to feel her shatter around me and suck my cock dry already. And this was my fantasy, dammit.
"Oh, yes! YES! I fucking love you, Lucas! I love you!"
She fucking loves me? What the actual fuck was the matter with—
It didn't matter because I came, suddenly and in a torrent. A soft curse escaped my lips as I exploded, an imaginary Blake still writhing beneath me.
Then there was a knock at my door. "Lucas?"
"What?" I snapped, not thinking. My body still shook with the shock of my orgasm.
"I brought you coffee," a cheery voice called, and then Blake opened the door.
"Can I have some fucking privacy?" I roared, my dick still in my hands.
Blake took two steps in, saw me on the bed, opened her mouth—and then it seemed she couldn't manage to close it. "What? Uh, oh boy. Sorry." She looked around in a panic, clutching the mug of coffee she'd brought in. She looked as if she might burst into hysterical laughter or tears. I couldn't tell which.
"Just leave it on the dresser," I said disgustedly, my chest still heaving.
&nbs
p; "Okay," she squeaked, setting it down and shooting out of the room faster than Michael Phelps leaving the blocks.
I wiped myself off with a tissue, staring at the ceiling. I was still breathing. My heart was still beating. I was officially living proof that I couldn't die of embarrassment.
As I calmed down, the CEO in me decided to take charge. I decided that I was going to think of today as a positive challenge.
Or, in an alternative, I was going to need to beat something.
But not my man-meat. That routine was getting retired right now.
Fresh from the shower, where I'd attempted to drown my shame, I sauntered out to the kitchen, mug in hand. I'd decided to just play it cool. Blake was a grown woman; surely she would act like an adult and just let the incident drop.
She was sitting in the living room, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, a picture of quiet, upscale domestic normalcy. "Hi," she called, not looking at me. "Everything come out all right?" Her shoulders shook in silent laughter.
"Ha ha," I said, but then I gave up and started to laugh, too. "It did, but barely. I'm uh… I'm not used to having company."
Blake nodded, her head still buried in the paper. "I'll remember that. Sorry. I just wanted to give you a coffee. I didn't mean to interrupt your… flow." She started laughing again.
I groaned. "I'm fine, thank you. And I told you—I don't get embarrassed." And yet, my cheeks were flaming.
Blake peered up at me over the paper, taking in my blush. "I know. I remember. That's why this isn't weird, right? It's not weird?"
"I think we've gotten beyond weird." I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down on a barstool, still watching her. It was actually nice to have her there even though she was currently busting my balls. I never invited the women I slept with to sleep over, let alone hang out in my home.
I love you, Lucas! The image from my earlier fantasy suddenly presented itself to mock me. I shivered, disgusted with myself, and hopped off the barstool. "I'm going to hit the gym before we go out for the day. Please help yourself to some breakfast."
Blake put the paper down and stood up. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"Not now. I'll have a protein shake later."
"Well, can I come with you to the gym?" She suddenly sounded shy, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"I don't usually have a gym buddy." My tone made it clear that I wasn't keen on the idea.
"You don't have to babysit me. It just gets really boring, sitting around here with nothing to do. Except masturbate." She giggled until she saw the look on my face and abruptly stopped. "You can even pretend you don't know me."
"I might." Yeah, right. And let the other guys at The Stratum try to be Blake's gym buddy? No fucking way. "Except that's my engagement ring sitting on your finger."