Page 97 of Crash

Blake kissed me deeply, as if to silence the very question. “Hospital is full of doctors. They can manage.”

His lips worked down my throat, making me smile despite my curiosity.

“Have you ever ignored a page before?”

“Not once,” he admitted, licking up my throat, trailing his tongue along my lips.

“Don’t you want to see what it’s about?”

Blake’s response was to drop to his knees, staring at my sex like he’d dreamed of licking it for years, like the taste he’d gotten on the terrace was nothing more than one drop of water to a dehydrated man.

“I’m too busy getting everything I ever wanted, Tessa.”

He flattened his tongue and licked a long, slow stride up my folds, making me jerk.

My sudden movement as he pleasured me caused his prized statue to wobble—the caduceus that symbolized his dedication to medicine, the career that meant everything to him. In that suspended moment, as his most valued possession began to tip, it would have only taken an instant to save it, yet he didn’t hesitate. His hands never left me. Instead, he let it crash to the ground, shattering its pieces along the floor like confetti while Blake buried his face between my legs, moaning as he licked in circles around the most sensitive flesh.

“Blake …”

“I’ve dreamed about this for so long,” he murmured against my skin.

No one had ever worked my body like this, like Blake knew it better than I did. He swirled his tongue around and around, making my hips jerk, and as the heat intensified in my lower belly, he added two fingers. Plunging them slowly into me.

Up to his knuckles, then pushing past the resistance until they were all the way inside of me.

Again, I let out a breath. Again, I held the back of his head as he brought his tongue back to my core while he curled his fingers and pumped them to the heat of our passion. I could feel myself clenching around his fingers. Damn, if his fingers felt this good, imagine his massive girth filling me completely.

Blake was still in his boxer briefs, but his erection pushed against the fabric, showing me how big Blake was. Bigger than I’d dreamed of, that was for damn sure.

Pumping his hand, Blake sucked and swirled my bud to the rhythm of my breaths, and when I’d clench his hair tighter, he seemed to know that meant he was hitting me just right. He worked my sex with his mouth while an orgasm began to build in my lower belly.

Good Lord. Blake Morrison was on his knees, devouring me. Licking me, working his thick fingers as my thighs began to quiver, his shoulder muscles tensing with each pump.

“Just like that …” I moaned.

“Mmmmm …” He curled his fingers, locking his eyes with me, making it clear that Blake knew exactly what he was doing.

When his tongue licked another long, torturous circle around that bundle of nerves and he sucked it into his mouth, I came undone. I crashed around his fingers. I crashed on his mouth, holding it between my legs as I jerked and twitched, my toes curling as my legs pressed against his ears.

My orgasm was so strong that the table rocked harshly, banging against the wall, threatening to shatter like I was shattering on Blake’s face. But Blake never stopped; instead, he let out moans of his own while he pumped his fingers and sucked every last quiver out of me.

Then he stood, tugged his boxer briefs off, and my breath caught at the sight of him. Long, and thick, and deliciously pulsing with need. My tongue darted out to wet my lips, but before I could drop to my knees and take him to the back of my throat, Blake’s hand encircled my wrist and pressed it against the wall above my head.

The moment his grip tightened, something flickered in his eyes like regret or fear, and he instantly released me.

“I’m sorry?—”

“Don’t be,” I whispered, cradling his face between my palms. “I feel safe with you.”

The truth of those words resonated deep in my bones. This was trust incarnate. I felt so secure in his hands that I could surrender completely, knowing he’d catch me if I fell.

Because this was Blake. My Blake. My body recognized him on a cellular level, reaching for him like a flower turning toward the sun.

I didn’t want him holding back. And I certainly didn’t want that past taking anything else from me. Especially not this.

Uncertainty creased his brow. “I don’t want to trigger?—”

“You won’t.”