Chapter 6 The Night We Crossed the Line

Blake: POV

She looked up at me with those eyes—those goddamn eyes that had haunted me since we were kids—and smiled like she had a secret.

"I'm not sure about anything," she slurred, fingers tracing my jawline, "except that you're the hottest guy I've ever seen."

I persisted, repeating, “Olivia, it's Blake. Blake Westwood. Your childhood friend.'"

She giggled, the sound vibrating against my chest where she pressed herself. "You're way too hot to be Blake. He was... cute. You're..." Her eyes darkened as she ran her hands down my arms. "You're something else entirely."

Fuck. She was so drunk she couldn't recognize me, even after I'd told her who I was. This was wrong on so many levels. I needed to stop this right now, get her some water, and let her sleep it off.

Instead, I found myself leaning closer as she pulled at my shirt collar.

"I should go," I muttered, not moving an inch.

"Or you could stay," she countered, her lips brushing against mine with each word. "And help me forget everything."

When her mouth finally caught mine, something inside me snapped. Seventeen years of wanting her, dreaming about her, trying to get over her—all of it combusted in an instant. I kissed her back, hard and desperate, one hand tangling in her hair.

She made this little sound in the back of her throat—half gasp, half moan—and it nearly undid me. Her hands were everywhere, pulling at my clothes, running across my chest after she managed to unbutton my shirt.

"God, you're built like a Greek god," she mumbled against my neck, fingers tracing the ridges of my abs. "Why would anyone with a body like this become an escort?"

I almost laughed. "I'm not an escort, Liv. I own a garden center."

"Sure you do, handsome," she replied with a wink that would have been sexy if she could focus properly. "Whatever fantasy you want to play."

I should have stopped. But then she was pulling her dress over her head, and holy shit—Olivia Parker in nothing but black lace underwear was a sight I wasn't strong enough to walk away from. Her skin was like porcelain in the dim light, curves in all the right places, waist dipping in before flaring to hips I couldn't stop myself from gripping.

"You're staring," she said with a lazy smile.

"Can't help it." I swallowed hard. "You're beautiful, Liv. Always have been."

"You know my name," she whispered, looking confused for a moment before her hands went to my belt. "Whatever. Less talking, more touching."

Her breasts pressed against my chest as she kissed me again, and I was lost. I lowered her onto the bed, hovering above with my weight on my forearms, careful of my back. Her fingers traced the muscles across my shoulders, down to where my obliques disappeared beneath my jeans.

"I'm Blake," I tried one more time, watching her eyes for any recognition.

"Mmm, Blake," she repeated, but her eyes were glazed over with alcohol and desire. "If that's what you want to call yourself tonight, I'm good with that."

She clearly thought I was roleplaying. That I was some random hot guy pretending to be her childhood friend for kicks.

I kissed down her neck, across her collarbone, my hands exploring the soft curves of her body.

When I unhooked her bra, her breasts spilled into my hands, perfect and responsive to my touch. She arched against me, impatient, demanding.

"Please," she whispered, hips lifting to press against mine. "I need you."

Those words broke the last thread of my restraint. I stripped off the rest of our clothes, pausing only to grab protection from my wallet. Her eyes widened appreciatively as she took in all of me, and I couldn't help the surge of pride that shot through me.

I stood there for a moment, letting her look.

My body was honed from years of manual labor at the garden center: broad shoulders tapering to a V-shaped torso, defined abs rippling under lightly tanned skin from outdoor work, strong thighs and calves from hauling soil and plants.

My cock was hard and throbbing, the thick, veined shaft ending in a flushed head with pre-cum beading at the tip, my pulse racing with need for her.

Olivia's porcelain skin flushed pink across her chest and cheeks, her full, perky breasts heaving with each quick breath, nipples hardening into tight pink peaks under my gaze.

Her body was a masterpiece of curves—narrow waist flaring into wide hips, toned legs parting slightly to reveal her pussy, already glistening with wetness, the lips swollen and pink with desire, her clit peeking out, begging for attention.

"Damn, you're soaked for me already," I growled, sliding a hand between her thighs to stroke her slick folds. My fingers dipped inside her, feeling her inner walls clench around them, hot and wet.

She moaned, her head falling back, lips parted in a drunken, blissful god—her expression a mix of hazy lust and raw need. "Fuck, that feels good. Touch me more—right there."

I circled her clit with my thumb, watching her hips buck against my hand, her breasts jiggling with the movement. "Like this? Tell me what you want, Liv."

"Everything," she gasped, her hands reaching for my cock, wrapping around the hard length and stroking firmly. "I want this inside me. God, you're so big and hard—feels like it'll split me open."

Her touch made me throb harder, my cock pulsing in her grip, the veins standing out more prominently as blood rushed south.

I leaned down, capturing one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking hard while rolling the other between my fingers. Her breasts were soft yet firm, the skin silky against my tongue, and she cried out, her free hand tangling in my hair.

"Yes, Blake—suck them harder. Bite a little," she demanded, her voice breathy and commanding.

I obliged, nipping gently at the sensitive bud, feeling it pebble even more under my teeth. Her pussy grew even wetter around my fingers, juices coating my hand as I pumped them in and out, curling to hit that spot inside her that made her whimper.

When I finally positioned myself between her legs, I rubbed the head of my cock against her entrance, teasing her swollen lips and clit. "You ready for me?" I asked, my voice rough with restraint.

"Fuck yes—now," she urged, her hips lifting to meet me, her curvaceous body arching invitingly, porcelain skin glowing with a sheen of sweat.

I pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch, feeling her tight, wet heat envelop me. We both gasped—her pussy stretching around my thick shaft, walls fluttering and clenching as I filled her completely. She was so damn tight, her arousal making everything slick and easy, but the friction was electric.

"Oh God, you're huge," she moaned, her nails digging into my muscular back, tracing the defined lines of my lats. "Feels so fucking good—move, please."

I started thrusting, slow at first, savoring the way her breasts bounced with each movement, her nipples still hard and flushed red from my earlier attention.

My lightly tanned skin contrasted with her pale curves, our bodies slapping together rhythmically. I gripped her hips, pulling her deeper onto me, my cock pulsing inside her as her wetness coated me.

"Harder, Blake—fuck me like you mean it," she panted, her face contorted in pleasure, cheeks rosy and eyes half-lidded, lost in the haze.

I picked up the pace, slamming into her with deep, powerful strokes, my abs flexing with each thrust, sweat beading on my tanned chest.

Her pussy clenched tighter, swelling around me, her clit grinding against my pelvis on every downstroke. "You feel so perfect, Liv—so wet and tight for me," I groaned, one hand sliding between us to rub her clit in firm circles.

She came apart beneath me, her body shuddering, pussy contracting wildly around my cock in rhythmic pulses, milking me as her orgasm hit. "Yes—I'm coming! Don't stop!" she cried, her curvaceous form writhing, breasts heaving, skin flushed from neck to thighs.

The sight and feel of her undone pushed me over the edge. My cock throbbed harder, balls tightening as I thrust deep one last time, spilling into the condom with a guttural groan. Waves of pleasure shot through me, my muscles tensing and releasing as I collapsed carefully beside her.

For a few minutes, we just breathed together, her body soft and warm against mine. I pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"That was...wow," she mumbled, already half-asleep, her head nestled against my shoulder. "Best escape ever."

She was out cold before I could respond. I watched her sleep for a while, guilt and satisfaction warring inside me. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I drifted off beside her.

The next morning, sunlight was stabbing through the curtains when I heard Olivia gasp. I opened my eyes to find her sitting up in bed, sheet clutched to her chest, staring at me with horror.

"Who the fuck are you?" she demanded, looking around wildly. "What did you do to me?"