He parted me with his fingers and his velvet tongue followed. The dueling pressures had me clenching uncontrollably. He slid his slender finger into me and sucked hard, flicking his tongue just so. My head fell back. Yes.

I arched, pressing into his mouth, and he delivered the final blow, stretching me with a second finger. His teeth grazed my clit, taunting me with perfect amount of restraint and just enough pressure to push me over the edge.

“Blake...” I cried out into the dusky air and fought to catch my breath. The breeze cooled my skin, washing over the fine mist of sweat that covered me, but Blake kept on. I came again and again, clenching against his fingers until I was boneless and out of my mind with the hunger to have his cock pounding inside me.

I whimpered his name and begged him to stop, unsure how much more I could take.

He stood, and I clamored for him at the sight of the hard outline of his jeans. He pulled me up and into his embrace before I could unfasten his fly.

“Let’s go in,” he whispered.

I tasted myself on his kiss, his erection pressed into my belly. Always too much and yet never enough, the fierceness of my craving for him still took my breath away.

I followed Blake into the house and he led us to the bedroom, an enormous room with vaulted ceilings and whitewashed walls. The house put the Fitzgerald summer home to shame in size and elegance. They were old money, but the reality was that Blake could probably buy and sell Daniel.

The bed, covered with a fluffy white down comforter, was the centerpiece of the room, and became my sole focus as I counted the seconds until we could be naked on it. Blake unzipped my dress slowly, taking his time and taunting me with light touches. I slipped out of my dress and walked to the bed. I climbed up and sat on my knees, waiting patiently as Blake stripped down. He crawled onto the bed with the lithe grace of a predator stalking his prey, and I was in just the mood to be hunted.

He shifted me until I was under him, spread around his legs as they parted me. Taking my breast into his mouth with a hard suck, he teased the tip with his tongue. I arched into him and hooked my leg around his in a feeble attempt to urge him closer. He didn’t move an inch.

“You are a squirmy little thing,” he teased, trailing his hands along my inner thigh, inches from where I throbbed and craved his touch so much more.

“Touch me, please, Blake.”

His lips curled slightly. “Put your arms up.”

Eager to please if it meant he’d stop taunting me, I obeyed. He stretched them higher and unclasped one of my bracelets, hooking it onto my other wrist and linking them together, creating a rather expensive pair of handcuffs.

“Blake, no, you’ll break them.”

“Not if you don’t move.”

“How am I supposed to do that? You’re driving me crazy.” Controlling myself when he held me was one thing, but I had no idea how I was going to behave myself without any help.

“Self control,” he said simply. “Hold on here.”

He guided my hands to the headboard. I swallowed hard and circled my fingers around the metal rails, my mind hyper aware of every sensation stirring through my body and the physical reactions that I now had to keep in check so as not to ruin Blake’s beautiful gift. He was barely touching me as it was, and I was already writhing with anticipation.

He started low, nipping at the tip of my toe. A jolt of desire arrowed right to my sex. Jesus, he knew every trick in the book. I tightened, knowing he was miles from being there at this rate. He trailed wet kisses up my thigh, over my stomach, diving into the cleft of my belly button with his tongue, languishing over my breasts and my collarbone, blowing warm breaths onto my neck that gave me gooseflesh in a very good way.

“How do you feel?” He grazed my lips with his, a knowing smile lifting them slightly.

Every nerve stood at attention, every cell in my body lurched toward his, as far as these constraints would allow. “Alive,” I whispered, holding on by a mere thread.

“Good.”

He held his cock, lubricating me with my own moisture, sliding between my folds. I tightened my hold on the headboard at the friction over my clit. Then he was inside me in one swift motion. I cried out, fisting my hands around the rail, not wanting to struggle against the metal of my bounds.

His lips were on mine then, kissing me frantically. I moaned into his mouth as he drove into me again and again, with a depth that had me spasming around him uncontrollably. I could barely breathe in anticipation of the promised release. I dug my heels into his thighs, urging him deeper.

My emotions were raw and I was desperate for him. Blake reached up and replaced the second bracelet to its rightful place. Freed from my restraints, I fisted my hands in his hair and kissed him hard. I needed more, the rest of him. Whether he knew it or not, I wasn’t about to let him go.

I pulled away slightly to meet his dark gaze. I needed him to know, after everything we’d been through. “I love you,” I whispered.

He pulled away a fraction to meet my eyes, his own dark and pained, as if those three little words cut him to the core.

“Make love to me. Please, Blake, I don’t want to feel anything else but you right now.”

And for the rest of the night, he did. He loved me with every masterful thrust, reminding me that our bodies were made for this and for each other. We were wasted, physically and emotionally, but Blake never tired. When we slowed, my lazy caresses turned into hungry demands, and he took me again, each time no less earth shattering than the last, until we both collapsed in each other’s arms.

* * *

I woke in the morning to the sound of the ocean. Seagulls sailed through the air just beyond our bedroom window. I crept out of bed quietly to let Blake sleep.

Dressed in his T-shirt, I let his scent wash over me. I padded through the house and helped myself to a banana from the bowl of fruit in the kitchen. I took out my laptop and set up at the dining room table overlooking the water. I started an email to Professor Quinlan, addressing him as such. No matter how much time went by, I’d probably never be able to call him Brendan.

I struggled for the right words to describe the current situation. He knew Max’s history better than most, but I hoped this turn of events wouldn’t reflect poorly on him. I felt compelled to bring him up to speed in case it would. I drafted the message and reread it, feeling overwhelmed anew by the breakneck pace my life had taken over the past forty-eight hours.

And I’d thought college was stressful.

I hit send and clicked around a few sites, landing on Clozpin. The browser’s loading graphic spin infinitely. The site was down again.