If Only (GxG)

Chapter 20 Closer Pt2 (Explicit)

I reached for her, desperate to feel her, to even the playing field. My fingers slipped beneath her shirt, teasing over the firm planes of her stomach. She inhaled sharply, her composure slipping just for a fraction of a second.

Then, just as quickly, she recovered.

"You're going to be trouble, aren't you?" she murmured, voice amused but thick with warning.

I grinned, dragging my nails down her spine. "You love it."

Blake chuckled, low and dark, then in one fluid motion, she rid herself of her shirt and bra. My breath caught.

She was stunning—sculpted, strong, effortlessly commanding. The candlelight traced golden highlights over her curves, the smooth lines of her stomach. My fingers ghosted over her waist, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Blake stilled. Something flickered in her expression—raw, unguarded. Then, without a word, she kissed me, slow and achingly deep, like she was pouring something unspoken into me. It made my chest ache.

She moved deliberately at first, her fingers gliding down my spine, trailing heat in their wake. Then, as if something inside her snapped, she deepened the kiss, her hands gripping my hips, pulling me flush against her.

A moan slipped from my lips, swallowed by hers. She guided me back, pressing me deeper into the mattress, her body covering mine as she claimed every inch of exposed skin with her touch.

Her hands skimmed lower, teasing the waistband of my leggings. She paused, waiting, watching—but I only arched into her, wordlessly pleading.

Blake made a low, appreciative noise, then dragged the fabric down my legs with slow precision.

I shivered as the cool air hit my overheated skin, but I barely noticed—because all I could focus on was how wet I was.

Embarrassingly wet.

The heat between my thighs was unbearable, slick and aching with need. I was sure Blake could see it, could feel it in the way my thighs clenched together, in the way my body trembled beneath her.

And she knew.

Blake's smirk was slow, devastating. Her fingers trailed up the inside of my thigh, just barely brushing where I needed her most, and I whimpered, arching toward her touch.

"Look at you," she murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "So wet for me already."

A strangled noise left me, half-plea, half-surrender.

She hummed in approval, her grip on my hips tightening. "I haven't even touched you yet, sweetheart."

The anticipation was unbearable, my body begging for relief. I reached for her, but she caught my wrists effortlessly, pinning them back above my head.

"Not yet," she whispered, her stormy eyes dark with intent.

I gasped, the pulse between my legs growing unbearable.

Now I was lying there in just my underwear, fully exposed beneath her. She pulled back just enough to take me in, the hunger in her gaze nearly making me come undone.

Then, with a smirk and a wicked gleam in her eye, she rid herself of her own remaining clothes.

The moment was brief—just enough for me to take in her strong, beautiful form—before she was on me again, pressing me deeper into the bed, her lips trailing a slow, searing path down my jaw.

Then her thigh slipped between mine.

The friction was devastating—just enough to tease, to make my breath stutter, to leave me hanging in the unbearable space between pleasure and desperation. The fabric of my underwear was soaked through, the heat between my thighs impossible to ignore.