Free He Claims Me by Cynthia Sax Page A

pillow, his back bare, his ass clad in his boxer shorts. I’m wearing my white panties.
    I stare upward, trying to remember how I got here. A gold framed mirror hangs on the ceiling, the contrast of my pale skin and Blaine’s golden tan visually stimulating. There’s another mirror positioned at the foot of the bed, the wall behind it painted a warm brown. The furniture is rich dark wood, the four-­poster bed intricately carved with vines and plants.
    This is Blaine’s bedroom, the space comfortable and right, designed for watching inhabitants at every angle. I breathe deeply, the room smelling of his cologne, of him.
    It smells of me also. My suit is folded neatly on a chair beside the bed and my faux leather flat shoes are lined up underneath the seat, the matching tote leaning against a clawed foot.
    Blaine turns his head and his gaze meets mine, his green eyes soft. “I didn’t want to wake you.” He strokes under my breasts and my nipples tighten, my body responding to his touch.
    â€œI don’t normally fall asleep in public places.” I place his hand over my left breast. “And I don’t normally wake up in strange beds.”
    â€œThis isn’t a strange bed. It’s our bed.” Blaine circles my nipple, teasing me, and I squirm, wanting more. “I’m meeting with Volkov at ten. How long do I have you?”
    â€œI’m supposed to start work at nine o’clock.” I need this job to maintain my independence and I should care about it. I can’t summon up that concern, not right now, not while he’s touching me.
    Blaine shifts over me, his body heavy, solid, warm, pressing me into the mattress. “I’ll give you a ride.” He bends his head and swipes his rough tongue over my right nipple. I bow my spine, pushing my breasts into his mouth, his hand. He works me with his lips and his fingers, squeezing and releasing me.
    â€œWill you give me a ride?” I lower my voice suggestively and run my hands over his flat pectoral muscles, across his cascading abdominal muscles. His stomach ripples. “Did you look at me last night? Did you touch me when you undressed me?” I explore his shoulders, the dip along his spine, the scars on his back.
    â€œI wanted to do more than touch you.” Blaine sucks on my nipple and I arch, crying out, the intensity sublime. “I wanted to fuck you while you slept.” He swirls his tongue around the abused flesh, soothing me. “You were so still, so soft.”
    I was defenseless and vulnerable, and Blaine wanted me but he didn’t take advantage of me. He kept me safe even from himself, respecting my boundaries and my fears.
    â€œYou can fuck me now.” I slide my fingers under the waistband of his boxer shorts, his ass firm against my palms. “Taking me the way you wanted to take me last night.” I push the soft cotton down and curl my fingers around his hard shaft. “Filling me.” I run my hands up and down him.
    â€œI will fill you.” Blaine yanks on my panties and spreads my legs almost painfully wide, opening me completely to him. “You’re wet for me, nymph.” He rubs along me. “Hot.”
    â€œAlways.” I undulate, savoring the feel of his naked body against mine. “I’m always hot for you.”
    He lowers himself, pressing down on me, trapping me underneath him. I can’t move, can’t free myself, and once he enters me, he’ll have me, seeing the needy piece of my soul I normally hide. He could hurt me as I’ve never been hurt before. I tremble, the old fears resurfacing.
    Blaine pushes his cock head into my tight pussy. “Show me, Anna. Show me how much you want me.”
    I meet his gaze, seeing the understanding in his brilliant green eyes. He’s offering me the gift of control, allowing me to give what other men might simply take. Blaine isn’t other men. He’s my man.
    I lift