Chapter 5 #2
Then, she’s coming for me, arching off the bed as she grinds her delicious pussy into my mouth, and I’m embarrassed to say that I go completely out of my head.
I lose time, lose my mind, lose something necessary to continuing cognition because the next thing I know, Emily’s on top of me, and I’m watching her spread those pink, swollen lips to make way for my cock.
My cock, which is mercifully already sheathed in latex, though I have no memory of grabbing the condom from my wallet.
But I must have done.
Or maybe Em fetched it for me. She’s clearly a brilliant, beautiful girl who has no trouble taking charge when needed.
“Fuck, yes, darling,” I murmur, gaze locked on her gorgeous curves as she fits me to her entrance. “God, could you be more beautiful?”
She leans forward, and I surge up to meet her, needing her nipples in my mouth as she seats herself on my cock. She gasps as I suck her deep, arms shaking as she braces them on either side of my face.
“Yes, just like that.” I groan as she starts to move, rocking against me with an urgency that makes it clear she’s already close again. “Take what you need, Em. Ride me until you come because all I want is you.” I flick my tongue across her nipple. “Coming.” Flick, flick. “On my cock.”
“Yes, God, yes,” she pants, the words trailing into a moan as I continue to lavish attention on both her gorgeous breasts.
Soon, she’s grinding on me with an enthusiasm that has me fighting the need to explode with every fiber of my being. But I refuse to let her down by going off this early in the game, and I’m nowhere near ready for this to be over.
I want to watch her breasts bouncing above me, her face twisting as she chases her pleasure, for as long as humanly possible.
“Stunning,” I murmur, urging her on with my hips, my hands gripping her ass. “You’re stunning when you’re about to soak my cock. Fuck, yes, Emily. Yes, darling, come for me. Come for me, love.”
She comes with that loud, unabashed American scream I was hoping for, her nails digging into my shoulders, her pussy gripping me with a ferocity that banishes all hope of switching positions before I lose the battle against the release bearing down upon me.
The best I can do is thrust up—hard and deep—lifting her into the air as I follow her over the edge. I cry out, the orgasm so intense it rearranges things inside me as my cock jerks and pulses, drenching my every cell in bliss.
For a moment, we just cling, sweat-slick and shaking, her breath hot against my neck, mine ragged in her hair. I realize I would very much like to stay buried inside her, potentially forever, but—
“Let me get rid of this condom, Em,” I whisper against the top of her head. “And I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, right, sorry,” she says, sounding dazed as she rolls onto the sheets beside me.
I dash to the loo, chucking the condom and giving my hands a quick wash, before I’m back beside her, pulling her against me as I flip the duvet atop our rapidly cooling bodies. She curls into my chest and I hold her there, not surprised to find that she fits just right.
“Excellent work,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head.
“Thank you. Not too shabby yourself.”
“No, seriously, that was a banger of a start, Em, but I…” I fake a moment of awkward hesitation before I add, “Well, I think you could scream a little louder, don’t you? Really do your homeland proud?”
She giggles. “I don’t know. That was pretty loud for me, but I’m open to trying again if you are.”
“Oh, I am,” I say. “I really am. I want you under me as soon as I can get Wee Willy Winky down there to cooperate.”
She lifts her head, arching a brow as she purrs, “Darling, there’s nothing wee about your winky. Nothing wee at all.”
“Damn.” I bite my bottom lip. “I like it when you call me darling.”
“Yeah?” she asks, grinning.
I nod. “Yeah. Now try ‘love.’ I think hearing you call me ‘love’ will get my willy winking again in no time.”
“Of course,” she says in that sexy, just been fucked voice that’s already working magic on my cock. “Happy to oblige, love.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s it,” I say, playing it up as I surge up and over her, rolling us across the rumpled sheets.
We laugh and kiss, then laugh some more, then moan and swear and agree it’s past time for round two. And then she’s under me, bucking into my cock, and I’m cursing myself for only carrying two condoms and not stocking any in the apartment.
After all, my friends and family might enjoy a responsible shag from time to time.
God knows I do…
As Emily comes for me again, crying out my name as I rub her clit in slow, determined circles while pumping deep, I’m the happiest I’ve been in ages.
Not just since last January. Since long before my father’s death. Since before I became a business owner, with the fate of a few dozen employees resting on my shoulders. Since before all those bloody abdications during my time at Oxford, which brought our family unexpectedly close to the throne.
As I come buried in her sweetness, I’m nineteen again. Nineteen and carefree, with nothing on my mind except a gorgeous girl and how much I love being naked and in her arms.
Afterward, I finally allow Emily a shower while I whip up some cheddar cream puffs, the only thing in the freezer that’s remotely edible. We eat them on the couch in the darkened living room, while watching the city lights twinkle in a blanket of white.
“This has been so wonderful,” she says with a sigh, leaning her damp head against my shoulder. “Thank you for a fantastic night, Olly. I’ll never forget you.” She yawns. “But I should get some sleep. I need to get up early. I’ll try not to wake you when I go.”
And then, she’s up and off the couch, on her way to the bedroom without me, before I can respond to any piece of that word bomb she just dropped.
Try not to wake me when she goes?
Wake me when she goes?!
No, “we should get breakfast,” no, “let me type my number into your phone,” not even an “I’ll jump on your cock again in the morning, one last time for the road?”
And sure, I was originally thinking a one-night situation would be best too, but now…
Well, now, I just want her screaming my name as many times as possible before she flies back to America.
How can she not want that, too?
How can she be okay with one and done after a night like this?
I have half a mind to ask her, but when I get to the bedroom, she’s already curled under the covers, sleeping like the dead.
It makes sense, I suppose—she’s just off a transatlantic flight, and has been awake for God only knows how long—but still…
I find myself feeling a little miffed.
Hell, more than a little miffed.
I’m flat out pouty. So pouty that I snag her phone off the bedside table and pop back into the kitchen, setting it to silent before sliding it atop the refrigerator.
I push it back far enough to ensure she won’t be reaching it without my help and head to bed, satisfied we’ll have the chance to talk things through in the morning.
She’s not about to make a break for it without her phone, no matter how eager she is to put our fantastic night of passion in her rearview.
It was fantastic. I refuse to believe a second of our time in bed together was forced or fake.
There has to be some other reason she’s decided to bolt.
But what?
I lie on the mattress beside her, staring a broody hole through her sleeping head, wondering how she manages to be so transparent and completely unpredictable at the same time?
I don’t know, but it makes me irritable.
And excited.
And frustrated.
And fascinated.
A terrible combination that feels an awful lot like the first flush of falling in love…