Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Twila
Oh, my God. What am I doing? I’m never this brazen with men.
But Emerson altered my brain chemistry when he told me he wants me.
Something inside me cracked, letting out an inner vixen I never knew resided in there.
I want him more than I’ve ever wanted a man in my whole life.
I need him. His touch. His taste. His weight on top of me and that hard ridge I felt earlier stretching me in the most delicious of ways.
His eyes light with glacial fire as he stares down at me. His fingers hook in the waistband of his shorts, pushing them down his thighs until gravity takes over and they drop to the floor. He grips his erection through his boxer briefs, and my channel floods with moisture.
Releasing his cock, Emerson lifts a knee to the bed and climbs on, moving over me and holding his weight up with straight arms.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs as he dips his head to kiss me.
I reach up to grip his shoulders as I kiss him back, but when I try to pull him down onto me, he resists.
Instead, he moves his lips to my cheek, kissing down my jaw to my neck.
As he trails a path of kisses along my collarbone to the upper curves of my breasts, I make my empty hands useful by reaching beneath me to unhook my bra.
Emerson groans against my skin as I shed the garment and throw it off the bed, then all my thoughts disappear as the scalding heat of his mouth closes around one nipple.
My hips buck involuntarily, and Emerson rolls his own hips to rub his erection against my center.
He groans at the contact, sending a shock vibrating from his mouth straight to my core.
Then he releases my breast with a pop before moving downward, pressing kisses along the soft flesh of my stomach and abdomen before sitting back on his knees and tugging my underwear down.
“I need to taste you, Twila,” he says, his voice raspy with need. “Will you let me?”
I lift my hips and wiggle them to help him in his efforts as I moan, “Yes, Emerson. Please.”
The thought of his mouth on me makes me wild and a little bit crazy, and I buck and twist until my underwear are freed from my ankles.
I spread my legs in invitation as Emerson stares down at me, his blue eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them.
He licks his lips before scooting down the bed and dropping his head to lick and suck at my inner thighs.
He avoids the spot where I need his mouth the most for several long moments, driving me so wild with need that I’m pretty sure I black out for a second when his tongue finally licks a stripe up my slit to flick against my clit.
When the blackness recedes, he’s moaning and licking at my flesh like he’s been starved for it.
My orgasm explodes out of nowhere, making me shriek toward the ceiling as my hips buck upward. My ass drops back to the bed like a piece of lead, and every muscle in my body is made of gelatin.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
That was intense. And unbelievably fast, like it’s been building for weeks or months, and I’ve just been waiting on the edge for someone to push me over. For Emerson to push me over.
I open one eye to take a peek at his face, and he’s smiling like he just won the lottery. He kisses my thigh before making his way back up my body. When he nestles between my thighs again, the feel of his hard cock behind the cotton of his boxer briefs sends a fresh shock of need through me.
He rests his cheek on my chest, breathing hard, then sighs forlornly. “I’m sorry, Twila. I just realized I didn’t bring any condoms. I wasn’t…expecting anything like this to happen.”
Shit. I didn’t bring any, either. Of course, I didn’t.
But I can still feel his cock throbbing against me. And suddenly, my mouth is watering with need. The need to taste him like he did me.
Digging my heels into the mattress, I buck my body upward and to the side, encouraging Emerson to roll off me and onto his back. I flip onto my side and lean in, kissing his mouth as my hand glides down his chest, past his ribcage and abs to the bulge in his underwear.
“Twila,” whispers out of him, so gritty and raw, it sends a shiver down my spine.
My heart pounds as I squeeze the thick ridge of his erection, kneading it gently through the cotton.
I need to see it. To test its weight in my palm and feel its velvety texture.
Releasing him, I hook a finger in his waistband and tug.
Emerson wastes no time lifting his hips an pushing his underwear down his thighs.
I swallow the fresh saliva pooling in my mouth as I run a fingertip from base to tip.
His cock jumps at my touch, and a quiet groan rumbles in his chest. A drop of liquid gathers at the tip, and I twist around before licking it clean.
Emerson groans again, the sound bouncing off the walls around us.
I love his neediness, so I lick him again, and this time, the groan is accompanied by a bit of thrashing that makes me feel more powerful than I ever have. I want to feel more, so I suck the head of his cock between my lips and lick at his slit.
“Shit,” he yelps, then moans again before adding. “So good.”
Build me a throne, because I’m queen of this moment. I rule over him with my lips and tongue. Guide him with my hand. And he worships at my altar with his gasps and groans.
I’ve done this before, obviously, but I’ve never gotten so much pleasure out of it. I’ve never really enjoyed it the way I am in this moment.
Gripping the base, I lift his cock and guide it into my mouth, licking and sucking as I push him in as far as I can without gagging. His thigh tightens beneath my elbow, a solid rock as I move my head up and down. He’s breathing so fast, I know this won’t take long, and I’m slightly disappointed.
I start to slow down, to draw the pleasure out, but Emerson tangles his fingers in my hair and grunts, “Please, Twila.”
He wants to come. Needs it.
I can play with him next time.
Next time? Will there even be a next time?
Pushing the thoughts away, I jack his base with my hand while my mouth works the rest of him. Within seconds, he tugs my hair gently to let me know he’s going to come, but I refuse to stop. I want all of him. Every last drop.
He stops pulling, but his grip tightens almost to the point of pain as his hips jerk upward and he shoots into my mouth. I swallow it down, then swallow again when he shoots a second load.
His body turns to mush beneath me, relaxed and sated as he tries to catch his breath. I let him slip from my mouth, and he jerks and laughs as my tongue teases his sensitive flesh on the way out. Emerson grips my shoulders, pulling me up until I’m splayed across his chest.
“That was…” he huffs, the words trailing off.
“Yeah, it was,” I say, and his arm tightens around me.
Amazing?
Mind-blowing?
A long time coming?
Any of those would work.
When the silence stretches for a bit too long, I ask, “What do you want to do today?” He chuckles as if it should be obvious, and I smack him on the chest, adding, “Besides that.”
He hugs me tighter, saying, “Maybe hang out at the pool, then hit the strip later for dinner and dancing?”
“That sounds good,” I sigh, snuggling into him.
It should feel weird, right? I mean, up until last night, this thing between us was completely fake. Then we kissed at the club, and I spent all night thinking he didn’t want more. But it doesn’t feel weird, being tangled up naked with Emerson in this postcoital bliss.
It feels right.
So fucking right, it almost scares me.