Chapter 24 Emmett
Emmett
Reese is kissing me.
Again.
I could’ve sworn it was a one-time thing, but here we are, her soft lips nestled against mine. I’ve been dreaming of this, and I’d tell her that if my mouth wasn’t currently occupied.
She’s pure confidence in the way she holds my face in her hands, kissing me exactly how she wants. Confident in the way she just came over and sat on my lap like a goddamn queen taking her rightful throne.
Reese goes after what she wants. It’s one of the sexiest traits about her, and right now, she wants me.
I wish I could want someone other than you.
Those words feel like they’re etched into my chest, creating this desperate determination to ensure she never will.
I’m angry and turned all the way on.
Irrationally angry because some random guy was here in her vicinity. Rationally angry that I can’t have her.
But right now, she’s sitting on my lap. Kissing me, so I should really tell my brain to shut up so I can focus.
This kiss is smooth, entirely in sync, as if the one and only kiss we shared before tonight made us experts in one another.
She pulls her mouth away, hands still cradling my skull, navy-blue eyes searching my face. Waiting for me to stop her. Waiting for me to be the responsible one here.
Fuck it.
I’m tired of being responsible. I want to be selfish. And I’m certain, this is what I want. She’s who I want. Fighting with her already has me ready to combust, and for just once, I want to do the wrong thing.
“Did you lock the door?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Are there any cameras in here?”
I’ve never wondered until now. Never cared either.
This mischievous smile tilts on her lips.
“What’s that look for?”
“Wouldn’t that be fun to watch? A little gym porno.”
“Jesus,” I exhale. “Fancy Reese Remington sounds real good saying things like ‘porno.’”
“I’m not always fancy, you know. I can get dirty too.”
I hum at the thought, running my fingertips languidly down the column of her spine. “I can’t fuck you in the gym, Reese.”
Partly because she deserves better than that, and partly because I’m scared she’d regret it tomorrow. I couldn’t handle it if this woman looked at me with regret. I like her too much. Respect her too much.
Her shoulders instantly sag, this bratty little pout pulling on her lip.
“Cameras?” I ask again.
“No.”
“Good.” Leaning in, I run my tongue over her puffy lower lip jutting out. “Don’t pout. You’re too much of a boss to pout about not getting your way. I’m not going to fuck you here, but I’ll make sure to release some of that anger of yours.”
Her eyes trail down to the space between us, snagging on the bulge in my shorts, and my cock instantly jumps at her attention.
“You’re hard already.”
“Yeah. Well, this is what I look like when I want someone. Here’s your reminder, Reese. I walk around this clubhouse with a constant hard-on from my boss, not from some random reporter.”
She hums this satisfied sound, perfectly manicured hands landing on my shoulders. Those light-pink nails drift down my chest, over my abdomen, trailing south in a way that has my body fucking aching for her touch.
She draws a torturous circle through the line of hair just above my shorts before trailing south to toy with the elastic waistband.
“So, this is for me?” she asks.
“It’s because of you.”
“But is it for me?” Her eyes bounce up to mine, innocent and testing all at the same time. “You’re not going to fuck me, but do I get to touch it?”
Does she get to touch it?
Fucking please. She can touch it. Twist it. Lick it. Stroke it. Treat it like a fucking bop-it, for all I care.
Without waiting for my answer, Reese runs her palm over the front of my shorts and I’m officially dying. Because this has got to be what heaven feels like, right?
“Shit.” Head dropping back, I watch her. “Yeah, baby, you can touch it.”
Over my shorts, she wraps her hand around my cock and squeezes. And when she strokes me from root to tip, I watch those blue eyes widen as if she were mentally measuring my size.
I don’t ask her if she’s sure about this or give her a chance to second-guess. Because I know if I give either of us the space to think clearly about what we’re doing and where we’re doing it, this will abruptly end.
I’m amped all the way up, not thinking clearly, and I could not care less that, for tonight, I’ve given up the fight.
With my hips chasing her palm, pushing into her touch, I slip my hand into her hair, gripping the strands and pulling her mouth back to mine. I breathe against her parted lips, and it feels like my first deep inhale of fresh air after weeks since the last time I got to do this.
She’s everything, kissing me like I’m hers, stroking me like she owns me. And for this moment, I let myself believe that I could be. That she does.
Reese wiggles against me, circling with need. She’s on my lap, but not flush to me, the empty space between our hips acting like the worst kind of tease. Though, I’m the lucky one who’s got her hand wrapped around me while she’s out there chasing nothing with her hips.
I’m so focused on her mouth, on the way her lips are soft yet sure, that I can’t concentrate on what I want to touch for the first time. I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who wants to play with every toy at once.
“Em,” she pants, pulling away to rest her forehead against mine. She must notice my tense fists, opening and closing, trying to figure out where to lay my hands first. “Touch me.”
“I can’t decide where,” I exhale on a laugh.
She smiles against me, a soft palm running through my beard. “Everywhere would be a good start.”
I focus on her thighs, thick and balanced on my own, those light blue leggings of hers acting as a second skin.
Then there’s her tits, heaving with labored breaths behind a matching sports bra that can barely hold her in.
And I can’t help but dream about feeling them pressed against me, maybe getting my mouth wrapped around one.
Her stomach curls over the waistband of her leggings, and fuck, I want to touch that too.
She’s squirming against me, a shuddering little mess, and it reminds me of exactly where I want to touch first. Where I need to touch first.
Smoothing my palms over her thighs, I languidly run them upward, and when they meet her hips, I curve them over, grabbing her ass and pulling her forward to rock against me.
She moves her hand out of the way, running it up my bare torso. And the small brush of friction, when her body finally rubs over mine, almost makes me come undone with that one single stroke.
“Oh,” she cries, cheek falling against my own, a single hand cradling the back of my head while the other grips the bench behind me. She curls her hips forward the slightest amount and her entire body shivers when her clit coasts over the head of my cock.
“That’s it,” I encourage. “Use me, Reese. Or let me use you.”
She agrees eagerly, letting me move her body exactly how I want, pushing and pulling her by her hips and good God, I’m going to come in my fucking shorts.
The fabric of her leggings creates this delicious slide against my cock, though I wouldn’t be mad if what’s left of our clothing could disappear. But then I’d just be tempted to slip into her, and like I said, I’m not going to fuck her here.
Her lips work a path over my throat as I allow my hands to explore. I curve them around her ass again, fingers toying with the seam of her leggings.
She hesitates when I dip lower.
“Tell me to stop.”
“No. Keep touching me.”
And so I do, running my fingertips against the seam of her leggings, and reaching around to stroke them over her pussy, only to find the fabric there is already damp with her arousal.
“Wet for me already?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
I stroke my fingers over her core one more time then give her ass a squeeze as I rock her against me.
I continue my path, giving into the insane need to touch every inch of her.
Both hands wander over her stomach and up over her chest. My thumbs flick her nipples that are peeking out from behind her sports bra. Then I give those a squeeze too.
Reese moans this precious sound against my throat as she kisses over my stubble.
She’s fucking perfect in my hands, but of course she is.
“That feels good,” she whispers. “I like you like this. With your hands all over me. A little bit desperate.”
“A little bit? Fucking please.” I exhale a tortured laugh.
“I’m fucking gone right now, but are you surprised?
” Clamping a hand over her shoulder, I push her down onto me, making sure she can feel just how desperate I am.
“You did this to me. You walk around my clubhouse in those goddamn high heels and with that goddamn attitude, making me want you.”
She gasps as she lifts herself up, creating a bit of distance between our bodies to give herself a momentary break. I only give her a second before I press a palm against her lower back and push her back onto me.
“My clubhouse,” she exhales.
“What was that?”
Bending to put her lips close to my ear, she repeats, “My clubhouse.”
The rumble of my laugh quickly morphs into a moan when she wraps her teeth around the lobe and bites down.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on in my life. The pressure of her body rolling on mine. Her hard-earned breaths panting in my ear. The fact that she has to be firm and in charge out there, but when she’s with me, she’s soft and pliable, mostly giving up control.
I let my lips wander over her jawline, kissing a reverent path and making sure each one counts. That each one brands her skin and will make her remember me.
She writhes into me, her chest flush to my own, and fuck, it’s incredible. Having her skin on mine. Having my arms around her. I’m so blissed out that all I can do is drop my head back and let her take over the pace for a moment.