When the music changes ... [Rated R]

[blake_sheep]

Category: Pink Sheep RPG

Black-tie events weren't a regular part of his schedule, though they happened often enough that Blake had several suits and tuxes to choose from in his closet. It was just part of the life he was born to and the life he had found for himself. Being the Marquis of Huntington and one of Britain's most beloved football stars made it impossible to disregard every invitation that came through his door.

It was only after catching the fine print earlier in the day - 'Help for Heroes' - that Blake had decided the Royal Gala was worth his time. If he must attend a quota of Muggle society events, than one benefiting the Royal British Legion and an organization that gave charity to the wounded in Britain's current conflicts was certainly worth his attentions. He actually respected some of those who would be in attendance.

The particulars of the party were far from his mind, however. More pressing matters had to do with the woman he was taking with him and what he planned on doing to her later that night. After months and months of playing cat and mouse with her, and then dating off and on as their time permitted, he finally realized he couldn't wait anymore. He knew Reilly had been in a state of want for months, and that she wasn't used to waiting, but that was half of why he had held off. The other half was because he liked torturing himself, too.

Not much longer though. He knocked on her door five minutes after eight.

Reilly had been ready for twenty minutes when she heard the knock announcing her date's arrival. She walked, unhurried, down the steps from her loft bedroom and across the living room to her front door. This would be the first event she'd attended on Blake's arm and she was surprised to find there was just a whisper of nervousness fluttering in her stomach. In the past when she'd attended social occasions with an escort it was either with Michael or a lover. True dating was a fairly unique experience for Reilly and accepting Blake's invitation brought a level of seriousness to their interactions that was new and unsettling.

As she pulled open her door, she couldn't help the appreciation in her eyes. Blake was handsome and thoroughly masculine in his tuxedo. Damned if the man didn't clean up well. "Good evening, Blake," she said, opening the door wide enough for him to enter if he chose. Reilly's eyes twinkled. "Almost on time. I'm flattered."

"I've heard 'almost' is fashionable these days," he said, tiny smile curling his lips. Dark blue eyes admired the golden silk dress that hugged her curves, enticed with the skin it exposed. Reilly was particularly unique of all the women he had known; she was practical, brusque and capable, but she managed to still be womanly and sensuous, classy.

Blake moved towards her, hands sliding over her hips to grip and pull her flush to him. His lips brushed hers. "You look edible. I assume you're ready to go?"

"I'm always ready," Reilly returned as she fingered his lapel. Her words were especially true where Blake was concerned. After all the time they'd spent, him baiting her and her sniping at him at first, teasing each other with touch and taste later, she was ready for more. She was ready for him. "You're looking rather tasty yourself. We'd better go before I decide I'd rather have you for a snack."

A smirk curled his lips. “Tempting,” he told her, hands sliding down the silk to grip her arse, pull her even closer. Her eyes darkened and Blake briefly thought of skipping the gala, but it was only one more night, and if anything, the tease of waiting just that little bit longer would make it that much better.

"But the ton awaits," he added as he moved his hands back to her hips and set her away slightly so he could reach behind her and pull the door shut.

He'd grown accustomed to Apparation - it was damn convenient - but he still very much lived in the Muggle world, and they were attending a Muggle function. It wasn't instantaneous, but there was something to be said for taking a ride in his Lamborghini Gallardo Nera. He screamed through the London streets at breakneck speeds, but the car only purred. He'd have to take it out on the autobahn sometime.

Reilly's perfume had saturated the car, his lungs, by the time they entered the queue at the National Gallery, but Blake kept his eyes and attention on the throng of paparrazi held back by the velvet ropes. As always, they jostled to see who would exit what auto or limo, who were fortunate enough to be guests of the Queen.

Blake had taken Reilly out, though he'd kept each of their dates low key; discreet lounges and restaurants, upscale clubs where they wouldn't be bothered. She knew of his life in the Muggle world, but this would be the first she would have to suffer the true reality of it herself. "As soon as they catch sight of the car, they'll know it's me," he told her while they were still some ways off. "They may try to get their cameras in your windows, though they're usually not as cagey at the royal events." Blake glanced over at her, the ever-present evidence of humor at the slight curl of his lips. His eyes were sober for a change, however. "They'll be particularly interested in you."

Ordinarily she might have been tempted to make a smart comment, but the seriousness in his gaze stayed Reilly's tongue. Thinking on it more carefully than she had up to this point, it struck her that Blake's inclusion of her at such a high profile event in the world where his was a household name made quite a statement about their relationship. She wasn't ignorant of the media's interest in her escort. She'd seen his face in the rag magazines, read the hints that he was a party boy and speculation on who the lucky lady would be who landed this most eligible bachelor. She also knew the vast majority of the innuendo was total bollocks.

"Because you're never seen with anyone," Reilly stated, more to herself than to him. Her eyes moved to the throng of paparazzi who had just recognized the approaching vehicle and her mask fell into place. As Blake brought the car to a halt, valets opened the doors simultaneously, the shouts and flashes of the photographers already nearly overwhelming. She allowed the stranger to assist her in standing, glad when Blake appeared, his arm sliding around her waist. She neither sought the cameras nor shied from them as he guided them up the red carpet, but it was more of a relief than she'd expected when they were inside and away from the intense scrutiny.

The easy smile Blake gave to the press still tinted his features, but he was focused on Reilly as he took them a few steps away from the more crowded entryway where people milled before being introduced to the main ballroom. "I should have warned you earlier. I'm sorry, love," he said, blue eyes finding hers. "It didn't occur to me to say anything because I usually come alone to these things."

Her face was still near-expressionless, painted with the nearly bored and slightly haughty mask she wore more often than not. It wasn't his favorite - he liked seeing her smile, watching her eyes switch from the brightness of humor to sparking irritation - but Blake understood why she used it. He used smiles, charm and sarcasm to achieve the same ends.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, brush his thumb lightly against her skin. "You can smile a little though, if you think you can manage. At least pretend to enjoy being with me?" he asked, lips curled slightly at the edges.

She was still a little tense. Reilly was accustomed to commanding attention and having eyes on her, but generally it was in matters of business or because she carried herself with an air that said 'I am important'. Never had her personal relationships made her a subject of interest, though. In fact, most of the time she kept her private life very private indeed. It had not occurred to her that accepting this invitation from Blake would force her into the public eye, force her to allow others to see things Reilly was not keen on sharing with anyone.

It was too late to take it back now though, and as she met Blake's eyes Reilly knew she would not have turned him down regardless of the uncomfortable intrusion of the press. Her lips gave a hint of a curl and she kissed him almost sweetly. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Just needed a moment to regroup. Given my line of work, however, you may find some very creative stories of our relationship if the paparazzi manages to track down the right people."

"You'd be surprised at what's been speculated in the past," he told her, grin curling his lips. Blake was pleased she seemed alright with everything. He should have better prepared her. Reilly, of all people, didn't like to be taken by surprise. As much as he liked to keep her off balance, he didn't want others to. That was his particular niche in her life.

Blake tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they slipped into the queue of people being introduced at the ballroom's entry, and not long after their names rang through the room. While most announcements had been ignored, many heads turned their way. His face was scarce enough at these events that he always seemed to draw attention when he did attend, but it was Reilly who was drawing the curious eyes this night.

That the Duke of Derbyshire's son, the Marquis of Hartington, had a woman on his arm, would be all the gossip.

Blake's feelings about his place in society were mixed on the best of days, but just that particular moment he wanted nothing more than to flip the bird at the entire room. Because of his mother and the respect she had once garnered from these people, he never had though, and he wouldn't tonight - especially with Reilly on his arm.

Instead his usual mocking smirk curled his lips as he shook hands and made small talk about the Muggle conflicts their country was actively involved in and Chelsea's prospects for the rest of the season with the men, and commented on the brave veterans who would benefit from tonight's charity of their peers to the women. It was not tedious, exactly, but there was a reason he often shirked his duty to play these people's games. He was born and bred to their politics and knew how to play them, but he still resented many of the people and much of the trappings.

The wizarding world and Muggle world had more in common than they might ever admit. In both, blood, money and power were the all important currencies.

Such were Blake's thoughts when a familiar voice reached his ears.

"Son. You decided to grace us with your presence." Charles Dunstan was just as handsome and hard looking as the last time Blake had seen his father.

"Yes, Blake, we didn't expect you, but I must admit, darling, that it is always a distinct pleasure to see your handsome face," Vivian added to her husband's comment as she leaned in to press a lingering kiss just a smidge too close to his mouth.

"Father. Vivian," Blake greeted, a sardonic edge to his voice. "I'd say it's a pleasure, but no need to bring out the dirty laundry here, hmm?" Flinty blue eyes flicked to the deep cut of his step-mother's dress. "Or the girls, mummy," he added. "I'd think Father would want to keep those all for himself."

Blake smirked and found his father and Vivian's gazes again. Charles was scowling mutinously and his much-younger wife almost seemed pleased with herself. "Since we're having a bit of a reunion, I suppose I should introduce the light of my life," he added, smirk deepening when Vivian's lips turned down as her eyes finally flicked to the woman on Blake's arm. "Father, Mummy, this is Ms. Reilly Chambers," he said as he smoothed his hand down Reilly's back, fingers curling around her hip. "Reilly, my father Charles Dunstan, and his wife, Vivian."

Charles' lips pursed and he glared hard at Blake, but he would never be so lacking in propriety in public as his son. "Ms. Chambers. A pleasure," he said, nodding at the dark haired woman.

Bowing her head, Reilly gave a shallow curtsy as she was disinclined to offer her hand to Charles Dunstan. The man was attractive and well-heeled, obviously at home amongst the upper crust, but he lacked that spark that made his son both charming and exceedingly irritating all at once. It was possible she was feeding off the undercurrent of ill feelings between father and son, but Reilly didn't care for the man. "Your grace," she greeted in return, polite but cool. A tiny smile curled her lips and green eyes flicked to her escort for the briefest moment. "It's nice to finally meet the man responsible for unleashing Blake on society."

It did not escape her that Blake had also not mentioned that meeting his family, such as it was, was on the agenda for the evening. In this case, though, Reilly thought it was probably not the result of her date having overlooked the topic. Given the tension between the three people in her company, she thought was more likely wishful thinking on Blake's part that the interaction might be avoided. She couldn't fault him for that.

In fact, the only part of the evening that gave her any pause was the pronouncement that she was 'the light of his life'. Initially Reilly had fought back a laugh at the obvious overstatement of her place in Blake's life, enjoying what seemed like a private joke between them. It wasn't until she saw his clear enjoyment of the stepmother's frown that Reilly realized the comment was actually a dig at the older woman. They hadn't spoken of their families in any great detail. Reilly knew Blake's mother was deceased and his father was remarried. She knew that the family was titled. She'd gotten a sense that he was not close to his father, but the specifics of their familial lives was not territory they'd yet delved into. There was much she hadn't shared either and the discretion was fine with her. Reilly built trust slowly and expected receive trust at a similar pace.

Just the same, she was not entirely sure how she felt about being made a pawn in a family quarrel when she was not privy to the details. Specifically, she wasn't sure how she felt about Blake exaggerating his feelings for her in order to score a hit against his stepmother. It was something to think on.

Charles' lips curved slightly, though the expression was humorless. "It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Chambers."

"Yes," Vivian inserted, gray eyes flicking from the hem of Reilly's dress to the lack of jewels at her neck, and finally to meet her gaze. "It's always nice to meet one of Blake's girls."

Blake's jaw clenched, but his expression remained pleasantly neutral, every-ready smirk curling his lips. He hated Vivian. He hated that his father had chosen her after the amazing woman he'd had in his mother. It was a desecration to his mother's memory that Charles married a viper from a grasping family who was nearly fifteen years his junior - and only a decade older than Blake himself.

"I'd say it was a pleasure, but that would be a lie." He met his father's flinty gaze with an equal look. Once that stare had burdened him with guilt and shame beyond measure, but it'd been a long time since Charles' disgust had affected Blake. "Father, Vivian," he said, nodding to both in turn before tightening his grip on Reilly's hip and leading them away.

Whatever good humor he'd had was gone. "I apologize," he said to Reilly as he maneuvered them through the crowd towards the exit. "I didn't anticipate my father's presence."

Reilly's brow furrowed at the tremendous alteration in Blake from the annoyingly charming rogue who'd stormed her office to invite her out this afternoon to the cold, closed off man marching her toward the door. It was true she didn't know the history between Blake and his father, much less the oily tart who was Blake's stepmother, but it was clear the rifts were deep. The only time she'd seen Blake without the usual playful light in his eyes was on the night she'd blasted him for going months without contacting her after he'd expressed an interest in taking her out. Even that was short-lived, though, as the night culminated in their first kiss. It bothered her to see him like this.

"You needn't apologize. They didn't upset me," she told him, halting their progress across the room and turning toward him. Reilly stepped close and smoothed her fingers along his jaw. "I'm sorry you're unhappy. If you think you can manage, though, you could smile a little. Pretend to enjoy having me on your arm?" she said softly, a tiny smile playing on her lips as she turned his earlier words back on him.

For a moment, it was as if he couldn't see her through the ember of anger that often followed meetings with his father, but her words did penetrate and Blake's focus narrowed to Reilly, the touch of her skin against his, the soft, concerned look on her face. Dark blue eyes flicked over her features and a part of him registered that the moment they were sharing was new territory for both of them.

Even as he slid a hand from her hip to the small of her back, the other came up to cup her jaw and he bent to press his lips to hers. The warmth of her in the cradle of his arms, beneath his hands, and the soft pliancy of her mouth stole the rest of his focus and the anger left him, though the intensity of his mood only shifted to her.

It was different, the way he held her and his mouth moved over hers. Reilly couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was in the tension of his hands as he pulled her to him, in the air that seemed to sizzle around them, the way their surroundings seemed to disappear. As her arms slipped over his shoulders, she pressed herself closer still, melting into Blake's heat.

He wanted to finish this.

It was because of the heat burning beneath his skin, dark and insistent, that he pressed one last kiss to her lips and then pulled away. Generally he couldn't give a damn whether society's ton approved of him and his actions, but this was personal. It was one thing to literally and metaphorically flip the bird at the lot of them, but it was quite another to share pieces of himself.

He knew it would be much the same for Reilly. She was a private person and she'd already been put on display enough for the evening.

Blake cupped her face and met her gaze. "Was I convincing enough?" he asked, lips curling ever so slightly at the edges.

"Perhaps a little too convincing." Reilly could feel a whisper of heat in her face and her chest rose and fell more quickly than was usual for her. Something had shifted between them and the Ravenclaw in her wanted to know what it was, what had changed, and what it meant. As her eyes scanned the room though, she found that she and Blake were still the focus of much attention. Her quest for answers would have to wait; this was not the place for such discussions.

Waiting for what she wanted had become a standard part of her time with Blake. Reilly had never been a woman to deny herself when she felt the pull of attraction, but he had been denying her for months and months. She'd learned quickly that substitutions, no matter how talented, could only distract her for so long. It was Blake she wanted, Blake that she craved, and he knew it. He enjoyed the tension between them and liked to test just how far he could stretch the connection that pulled them toward each other. The string was taut and frayed now, and Reilly wondered how much more distress it could take. Would it snap if at the end of the night he left her at her door as he had so many times before? She cared for him now, would that override the frustration of desire left unsatisfied? Reilly didn't know, she'd never done this before.

"You inspire a winning performance," he said, lips curling even further as he let his hands travel back to her waist.

It was the first time Blake could remember being rid of the anger and frustration with his father so quickly. Then again, this was the first time he had ever had someone he cared about with him. Usually he tried to spare his friends the misfortune of meeting Charles Dunstan.

Reilly wasn't just a friend though. No, the insistent, dark heat now burning in him said she was much more, and it also reminded him of the decision he'd made earlier in the day, one he was particularly intent on following through with. "Do you think you can stand to part with society's drones for the evening?"

"I'm perfectly happy to leave the pressed and coiffed ones to themselves," Reilly replied honestly, though she surprised herself a little when she continued, "but I'm not looking forward to parting from you." It was a very rare thing for Reilly to be so open, especially with Blake. He had been dangerous to her from the start, eliciting reactions she couldn't control and fire she couldn't quench. Perhaps it was time she stopped fighting so hard, though. The end would be the same whether she resisted or not.

Blake held her gaze a moment, well aware of what Reilly was sharing with him. He wanted to assure her that he'd not leave her this eve, but what he said was, "Well, perhaps we can grab something to drink," as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and began leading her through the crowds towards the exit.

Perhaps they would grab a drink. He doubted it; a tiny, knowing smile curled his lips as they climbed the stairs towards the foyer.

It was all she could do to hold in the heavy sigh that wanted out. Perhaps they could grab a drink? The words didn't even feel like Blake and as she glanced at his face she knew what had come from his mouth was not what was in his head. Not that that knowledge got her any closer to understanding what was going on behind those dark blue eyes.

Her face was calm and pleasant as they stepped out into the throng of photographers again, and her voice was even and only for him as she commented dryly, "I hate it when you're enigmatic."

"I know," he said. He could have said he was sorry, but unless he was going to change, the statement would be a lie. Blake didn't plan on changing and he didn't want to give Reilly false assurances, even in the small things.

He could feel her slight irritation as he helped her into the car and their ride through the city was quiet, but the weight of the air shifted as it became obvious that he wasn't heading towards her part of London. They were driving through Kensington.

Blake's lips curled slightly. "I thought we should have a drink at my place," he clarified upon his earlier statement. Several moments later, they pulled up in front of his rowhouse.

She'd been wary since she'd realized he was not taking her home. The pronouncement that they were going to his home had her warier still because now there was the flicker of hope that the need she'd felt for Blake for over a year now might finally be assuaged. It was a hope she'd had before, several times. Thus far she'd always been disappointed.

Still, Reilly had never been to Blake's house before and as she followed him inside, admiring the dark but striking decor, she moved as if someone might jump out at any moment. If this was a tease, it was an elaborate one, but she was on guard just in case. "You should know, I don't really care for a drink at the moment," she told him truthfully, "and if this is a another game to taunt me with the desire I feel for you, it's not amusing, it's just mean."

He lifted his eyes from her hips as she turned around, and his blue eyes were dark and intent on her. The light in the hall was dim, and what little there was streaming from the rooms he'd shown her glistened on her skin.

"You should know I don't intend for you to leave tonight," he told her, voice low.

The surprise was only an incremental rise of her brows, but Blake didn't give her time to reply or think over it too hard. He moved. He captured her face between his hands and covered her mouth with his own.

One hand fisted in the lapel of his jacket, pulling him toward her as if he might disappear without warning; the other imitated Blake's own hands, cradling his face as she opened for him, meeting his lips with passion and hunger. He'd as much as said that tonight her desires would become reality and the near promise overwhelmed Reilly's usual analytical nature. She was tired of thinking anyway. She just wanted him.

The moment when Blake would usually pull away, stop before he couldn't stop, came and went. The will to do anything but move his hands to her hips and pull her flush to him was nonexistent. He wanted her. He wanted her so much it was nearly an all-consuming thing. She was heady and intoxicating, and gods, he wanted her.

His hands gripped too hard, and then all too soon he was pulling the zip down the back of her dress. Even as he slid his hands beneath the golden silk, splayed them over heated skin, Blake drank her. There was no reservation in his actions.

Reilly's blood was racing, the heated rush of it making her feel nearly feverish as she shoved Blake against the wall. Pushing at his shoulders, she struggled to remove the expertly tailored suit jacket. No doubt it was expensive and should be treated with care, but Reilly just wanted it gone.

"Off," she growled against his lips before shifting to nip at his throat. For months she'd been patient, frustrated, and now the need she's pushed down so long was free and spreading like wildfire.

A smirk curled his lips at her demand, but Blake acquiesced. He wanted what she wanted.

He pulled his hands away from her and let Reilly push his suit coat off, helped her pull at the tie at his neck. Only when she was left with the buttons of his shirt did he leave her to the task so he could bend and press his mouth to soft skin just beneath her ear. His hands smoothed over her hips again, around to cup her arse.

She loved the way his lips felt on her skin. Deceptively soft and warm, they drew a sigh from Reilly much softer than her usual controlled reactions would allow. Her fingers were swift and nimble as she slipped the buttons from their eyes, her own eyes feasting on the toned physique slowly being exposed.

It was odd to think that as long as they'd been playing their game, this was the first time any clothing had been removed, the first time their hands had touched these places. They'd not even approached the usual erogenous zones and already the experience was heady. Reilly had never wanted a man the way she wanted Blake. It was exciting and sensual and a little frightening. She wouldn't stop even if she could.

In a single motion, Blake swept Reilly into his arms. He wanted to make love to her, and it wasn't going to happen for the first time in his damn hallway.

A murmured spell lit the few candles that were in the room when he entered, and even as he set her down, she was pushing his shirt off and he tugged at the silk that still clung to her, watched it pool at her feet.

There was a moment of pause as Reilly won the battle against Blake's shirt, leaving him bare chested as she stood in her knickers and bra. He was fit and handsome and hers, for now at least. Reaching out to skim her fingers over his chest, she raised her eyes to his and smiled in invitation. "No more waiting."

"No," he said, his voice a low rumble now. Dark blue eyes met hers, and he reached up to cup her cheek, run his thumb over her bottom lip.

He smoothed his hand down her neck and pressed it over the quickened beat of her heart. He watched her eyes darken, and kept her gaze as he slid his hands behind her, over the smooth expanse of her back. Deft fingers slipped the hooks of her bra and it fell away.

Still, he didn't move his gaze from hers. Blake watched her eyes, the slight part of her lips as her breathing changed, the flush of her skin. He watched every nuanced change as his hands continued their trek, smoothing down her sides so that he only barely brushed her breasts before he was once again curling them to her back and unhooking the belt of her garter.

She kept his gaze as her hands moved lower, to the button of his slacks. It was a simple thing to undo the fastenings and let them fall to the ground, his pants next. A low spark of irritation pricked her at the fluttery feeling in her stomach as she divested him of the last of his clothing. It was hardly as if she'd never been with a nude man before, but somehow Blake was different. He had been from the start.

Blake's lips twitched at the look that briefly passed across her face, but otherwise he was intent and focused. The clips were detached from her stockings, and the belt dropped to her feet.

There were more clothes to peel from her body, but nothing standing in the way of what he wanted right that moment, and Blake gripped her hips and pulled her to him, let himself luxuriate in the slide of her skin against his, the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest, the hardness of him pressed to the bareness of her hip. He brushed his lips lightly to hers, once, then twice. "You're beautiful," he murmured against her mouth before catching her lips and sliding his hands over her arse, gripping the bare flesh to pull their hips together.

The fluttery feeling returned at his words and stamping down on the silly nonsense, Reilly kissed him firmly, hotly. The need was familiar and comfortable. She focused on that and ignored the softer, feminine feelings for the time being.

She wasn't completely naked yet, but it didn't matter. He could still feel the warmth of her, feel the slide of her skin - so damn soft - feel her nails digging in his shoulders, and it was perfect.

Even as they fought for dominance of the kiss, Blake plucked at her knickers and forced the bit of string and lace down. When it was gone, his hands mapped the naked skin, over her hips, her arse, up her back, down her sides. He wanted to know the feel of every part of her, and while he knew there would not be time for it this first time, or perhaps even this night, he would know every millimeter of her body.

None too gently, Reilly traced the firm planes of his back, dragging lacquered nails down the smooth skin and pressing herself as close as possible. She wanted to feel him, wanted his weight pinning her down, to share his breaths as he made love to her. For so long now it had felt like that was all she wanted.

"Blake," she said against his mouth, half growl and half plea. She needed him and the string that pulled at her was stretched to its limit.

He could hear her want, feel it in the tautness of her body.

Blake wanted her too. Now.

In a single motion, he hooked her leg around his waist and pivoted slightly to spill her to the bed. It was only a shift of his hips, the tilt of hers, and then he was inside of her. His teeth scraped down the column of her neck, and his grip was too strong; he would leave bruises where his fingers dug into her hip.

The air escaped her as their bodies joined, her back arching to press as much of her skin to Blake as she possibly could. The hand that held her, drawing her hip upward to meet each movement, was tight. There would be marks, but Reilly didn't mind. She wanted to feel his touch, liked the idea of the proof she'd had it lingering after the fact.

Her lips found Blake's neck, kissing and sucking at his skin as she clutched at him. When he shifted slightly, making her moan in response, Reilly pressed her teeth into his throat. She liked the idea of leaving her mark on him, too.

His breath escaped in a hiss as Reilly bit down, but the pain swirled with the pleasure, and Blake only gripped her harder, shifted to fill her more deeply. He wanted her panting, breathing his name, raking her nails down his back as she tumbled over the edge of pleasure. He wanted to watch her fall apart, and then he wanted to follow her.

Her legs were already firmly wrapped around his waist, but his grip shifted and he slid one up over his shoulder. Lifting himself slightly above her with one arm, the angle of their joining changed; deeper, deeper, deeper, and then a slow roll of his hips helped him hit her right there, right where it made her writhe.

Reilly felt the build of tension, the tickle of current waiting for release, and even as she chased it she had the thought that she never wanted it to end. It would end, though, and soon. Already her movements were becoming erratic and her nails pressed firmly into her lover's flesh, threatening to rend bright red furrows at the moment when she was overcome. A low keening rose in her throat and suddenly she was caught in Blake's blue gaze, a feeling of something, instinctive and warm, shooting through her, taking her breath away.

There was only half a moment to wonder if he'd felt it too before a different wave of sensation came over her. Blake felt so good inside her, seemed to know exactly what she needed and Reilly's eyes remained fixed on his as her body trembled and his name fell from her lips.

Her eyes were dark, darker than he'd ever seen them. She was beautiful. Breathtaking. And the sound of his name on her lips made something dark unfurl inside of him. He wanted his name, only his name, on her lips over and over, tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after.

In a swift movement, Blake slid an arm beneath her and pulled them both upright. The angle changed yet again, but they didn't lose their rhythm, only shifted into it, and even as she trembled, as her breathing quickened and his name fell on each pant, Blake wound his hand in her hair and pulled her lips to his, hard, drank her cries.

Their bodies were so close, a tangle of limbs and lips and shared breath; it was almost as if they were one. As she moved with him every sense was piqued, sensitized, and the intensity was too much to bear. Nails bit into skin, holding tight as the pressure built, dragging as she began to lose herself. It was everything she'd wanted, more than she'd expected, and nothing that she'd imagined. Reilly couldn't pretend this was casual anymore.

He could feel the flutter of her muscles around him, the quiver of her body and the erratic warmth of her breath against his skin. She was so close. Though one arm was a band around her to keep her with him, he slid his other hand between them and flicked at the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Come on, Rei," he breathed against her temple as they moved, "let go."

Head rolling back, Reilly's eyes closed and time seemed to stand still as she teetered on the edge of blissful release. All at once time started again, plunging her into the maelstrom of her orgasm. Her hips rolled into his touch as Blake's name poured from her lips a final time, hanging in the air as Reilly shivered and shook.

He moved in her deeply, once, twice more, and then bowed his head against her shoulder and followed her over the edge.

Blake held her close, and though his breath evened out quickly, it was several minutes before his thoughts became coherent again. It was slightly surreal to finally have her in his arms this way, to still feel the heat of her and the press of her skin, her body wrapped around his. If it was a dream, it was definitely one he could get used to.

Grinning against her skin, he pressed a kiss to her neck.

Reilly's face stayed buried against the short, dark blond strands of Blake's hair, her eyes closed as reality returned to her. Her thoughts were jumbled, instinct and habit battling with emotion as she struggled to come to grips with what it all meant. Analyzing every aspect of a situation was second nature to her and it had served Reilly well in business. It only confused her now.

Slowly she lifted her head and her gaze found Blake's. Dark blue eyes were soft as they looked at her. The tiny smile that grew in response was unbidden.

"We should do that again sometime. Preferably sometime tonight," he said, grin hovering at the edges of his mouth as he watched her features lighten. It was something he was glad for. Reilly was prone to over-thinking things, and he knew he could pull her out of it if it happened, but he was pleased he didn't have to - yet, at least.

"We should," she agreed. "There are quite a few hours to fill between now and morning. I might need a few minutes, though." Making love to Blake had been intense, both physically and emotionally. Reilly wasn't quite ready to jump back into the power of it.

"And something to eat. I'm starving." He grinned, a quick, happy flash of teeth. "Omelet?"

Her brow furrowed at the sudden suggestion, but it disappeared as a short burst of laughter spilled from her mouth. Reilly had nothing in her history to use as a reference to guide her in this strange relationship. It was totally new, and thrilling, and scary. She could work the puzzle of it tomorrow, for now she'd satisfy another hunger. "Do you have mushrooms?"

SUMMARY: Blake takes Reilly out - and then they finally take the next steps in their relationship. [Rated R]