Page 61 of Blocked Shot
Jake raises a brow as she untangles herself from him and slips off the couch, tugging him with her to their makeshift bed in front of the fireplace.
Natalie’s fingers curl around the hem of Jake’s t-shirt, her touch light but determined. She hesitates for only a second before tugging it upward, her knuckles skimming over the firm planes of his stomach as she peels the fabric away. Jake lifts his arms to help her, and the shirt is gone, tossed somewhere behind them, forgotten.
The moment her eyes drop to his torso, a lump forms in her throat.
The bruising is worse than she thought. Guilt rips through her as she takes in the deep purples and sickly yellows blooming across his ribs, the evidence of his injury stark against the fire-lit warmth of his skin. Her fingers twitch at her sides, aching to reach out, but she doesn’t want to cause him more pain.
Jake sighs, taking her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger to pull her gaze towards him. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs. “I don’t feel a thing.”
Natalie shoots him a sharp look, her throat tight. “Don’t lie to me.”
He smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not. Really, it’s nothing.”
She huffs, shaking her head as she finally gives in, pressing her palm beside the worst of the bruising, careful but firm. His skin warmsbeneath her touch, and his muscles tense like he’s waiting for her to scold him.
Instead, she smooths her fingers over his ribs, slow and deliberate, tracing the places where the bruises darken. “You act like you’re invincible,” she says softly, frustration laced with something deeper.
Jake exhales, long and slow. “I have to be.”
Natalie meets his gaze, something fierce rising in her chest. “Not with me.”
He watches her, eyes dark and unreadable, but he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, even when she leans in and presses her lips, featherlight, against his ribs.
She trails soft, lingering kisses over the bruises, as if she can chase the pain away with nothing but warmth and care.
“I’ll make you feel better,” she whispers against his skin.
Her fingers trail down his chest, slipping beneath the band of his sweatpants to brush against warm skin.
Jake’s breath hitches, his muscles tensing beneath her touch. “What are you up to, Mitchell?”
Instead of answering, Natalie pushes up onto her knees, shifting so she’s straddling his lap but careful to keep the pressure off his ribs and torso. Her fingers delve into his sweatpants, dipping beneath the elastic. His hands come to her waist, strong but unmoving, waiting to see where this will go.
She leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before murmuring against his lips, “I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.”
Jake lets out a low chuckle, lifting his hips as she tugs his waistband down. His fingers flex against her waist, his restraint evident, but there’s a heat in his eyes, dark and smoldering, that sends a shiver down her spine.
Her eyes wander over his toned shoulders, the dim light from the fire casting a warm glow over the dips and ridges of his muscles. Her gaze drifts lower, following the taut plane of his stomach to where the muscles carve deep, angled grooves above his hips, leading downward in a tantalizing way that makes her pulse stutter. The shadows play along the sharp lines, drawing her attention to the way theydisappear beneath the waistband of his tented boxers. She swallows hard, her fingers itching to follow the same path her eyes have taken, to map out every scar and shadow, every inch of strength beneath her hands.
Natalie breathes deeply. He smells delicious—like laundry soap with a hint of musk. His muscles tense beneath her touch, but he doesn’t stop her. Instead, he leans back and laces his fingers behind his head. The movement stretches his body beneath her, his biceps flexing, the sharp lines of his abdomen tightening as he watches her through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Go on then.” His mouth curves slightly, his smirk betraying both indulgence and expectation—a man who knows exactly what’s coming and is more than ready to enjoy it.
She trails lower, her mouth tracing a slow path over the ridges of his stomach, savoring the contrast of smooth skin and hardened muscle. Her hands follow, fingertips ghosting over the deep-cut grooves at his hips. Jake hums, a low, satisfied sound. But beneath his easy confidence, she can feel the tension coiling in him, the way his breath hitches when her lips graze a particularly sensitive spot.
She smiles against his skin, pressing another lingering kiss above his waistband, and glances up. Jake is breathing heavy, his eyes magnetic as they watch her every move. Pulling at his boxers, Natalie frees his thick, hard length, wrapping her hands around his hot shaft. She leans down and licks the bead of moisture gathering there, swirling her tongue around the head.
Jake’s head tips back in a groan, exposing his throat and light stubble. Humming in approval, Natalie takes him into her mouth, sliding down his length torturously slow. When she takes him as far as she can, she hollows her cheeks sucking hard, causing Jake’s hips to jerk.
“Christ, Nat,” he groans.
She retreats, swirling her tongue around his head, giving him little licks and kisses. Then she suctions her lips, taking him in her mouth once more. When she thinks she can’t go any further, she swallows, forcing his cock down her throat.
Natalie moans in approval as his hands fly to the back of her head, tangling in her hair. He urges her on, moving her head in a rhythm helikes. Her hands reach around his thighs and grasp his firm ass, pushing him deeper into her mouth.
“Fuck,” Jake grits out through clenched teeth. He’s no longer relaxing like a king, watching her with lazy amusement. Instead, his eyes are wild, muscles tensing and contracting beneath her as he grabs her head roughly, fisting her hair.
A rush of pleasure floods through Natalie as she relishes the power she has over him. That this strong, impervious warrior is coming apart because of her. It’s like a drug. One that she is already addicted to. She feels a surge of wetness between her thighs as she rubs them together, her own pleasure building.
