9. Emory #2
"God you taste good. I want more,” he rasps. Before I can catch my breath, he grips my panties and tears them off in one brutal yank, baring me completely from the waist down.
I barely have time to gasp before he drops to his knees, yanks my thighs wide apart, and buries his face between them.
His mouth is hot and merciless—tongue dragging through my dripping folds, sucking my clit to make my hips jerk again.
“Fuck—oh God!” I whimper, fingers flying into his hair.
He growls against my pussy as two thick fingers plunge back inside me, curling against that devastating spot while his tongue flicks and circles my clit.
It's intense and overwhelming, happening so fast I'm not sure if I've even consented, but God, do I want him to keep going.
He devours me like a starving man, sucking, licking, fucking me with his fingers faster and deeper.
“You taste even sweeter than I remembered,” he murmurs against my slick flesh. “Come on my face. Let me drink every drop.”
My thighs tremble around his head as he continues stretching and pumping into me mercilessly. Pleasure builds impossibly fast, sharper this time, my body still sensitive from the first orgasm. I grind against his face, shameless now, chasing the rising wave.
“I’m—fuck—I’m going to—” My words cut off in a broken scream as the second climax rips through me.
My walls clamp down hard around his thrusting fingers, pulsing wildly while his tongue lashes my clit without mercy.
I come hard, soaking his mouth and chin, body convulsing as blinding pleasure tears me apart again.
Every contraction steals my breath; every twitch and jolt makes my body rise off the seat.
Rashid doesn’t stop until I’m shaking, whimpering, and completely spent, only then slowing his tongue to gentle licks as I float down in a hazy, trembling mess.
Then he rises from between my thighs, his chin glistening with my release, eyes wild with raw lust.
And he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, surging up to cover my body with his. “I need to be inside you now,” he growls. “I’ve waited too fucking long.”
He grips my hips and pulls me forward on the seat until I’m half-reclined, legs spread wide around him.
But I'm nothing more than putty, molding to his will at this point.
My body is drugged on endorphins and yielding to whatever he wants.
His dick is rock hard as he lines up, and a broken cry escapes me as he thrusts in, the sudden fullness almost too much after two shattering orgasms.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, forehead pressed to mine. He doesn’t give me time to adjust—his hips snap forward in deep hard pulses, each stroke dragging against every sensitive nerve inside me. The car rocks slightly with the force of it and skin slaps against skin.
I clutch his shoulders, nails digging through his shirt as pleasure sparks through my overstimulated body. “Rashid—oh God, it’s too much?—”
I can't breathe. I'm spiraling, lurching toward the abyss and so close to passing out from lack of oxygen, but I don't want it to end. I want to feel this forever.
“You can take it,” he pants, angling his hips to go deeper. “Come around me. I want to feel you milk me.”
He shifts slightly, changing the angle until every slide hits a new sensitive place inside me.
My moans turn ragged, and sweat beads on my skin as tension gathers, tighter and deeper than before.
I can feel every vein, every ridge of him sliding through my drenched core, claiming me completely.
“That’s it… let it build,” he growls in a whisper.
My vision blurs at the edges.
The pressure swells until I’m trembling on the brink, muscles fluttering around his shaft.
And the orgasm rolls through me like a slow, consuming wave.
It starts deep in my center and explodes outward, making my entire body seize and shudder.
My walls squeeze and release around him in powerful contractions, flooding me with liquid heat that spills between us.
I groan and my back bows off the seat as intense spasms wrack me from head to toe, leaving me gasping and dizzy, every nerve singing.
"Christ, yes," Rashid snarls against my throat while his hips stutter. His cock swells even thicker, pulsing as his own release hits. He buries himself to the base and stays there, groaning while thick, hot jets of his seed pump deep into me.
Pulse after pulse fills me until I feel overly full, warmth leaking out around his shaft with every twitch of his hips.
He grinds through the last of it, pressing his forehead to mine, breathing hard as we both ride the lingering tremors.
Rashid stays buried inside me for a long moment, his breathing ragged against my neck as the last pulses of his release fade.
Slowly, he pulls out, leaving a warm trickle of his seed down my thigh.
I feel raw and used, but strangely empty all at once.
My hands shake as I sit up, searching blindly for my jeans and ruined panties.
The torn lace is useless; I shove it into my coat pocket with trembling fingers.
He tucks himself away and zips up, watching me with hooded, satisfied eyes.
“Emory,” he says softly. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. We can catch up properly. I want to hear everything you’ve been doing these past three years.
Where you’ve been, what you’ve dreamed about. Let me spoil you the way you deserve.”
My stomach twists violently. The thought of telling him anything real—about Lex, about Batya’s world, about the secrets I carry—makes bile rise in my throat.
I could never speak those truths aloud to a man like Rashid Krasnov.
One slip and everything would crumble.
I force a small, tired smile while buttoning my jeans, avoiding his gaze. “That’s sweet, Rashid. Really—but I can’t. My life is… complicated right now. I’m not in a place where I can do this.”
He reaches for my hand, but I pull away gently, smoothing my sweater down. “Please. Just one dinner. No pressure.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, already reaching for the door handle as I tuck the velvet box into my coat pocket. “I can’t. Thank you for the ride. And for… everything.” The words taste like ash, and I slip out of the car on unsteady legs, the cold night air shocking against my flushed skin.
My coat hangs open, hair a mess, thighs still sticky.
And I stand on the sidewalk with my arms wrapped around myself and watch as the sleek black car pulls away from the curb.
Its taillights glow red in the distance, growing smaller until they disappear around the corner.
Only then do I let out a hard breath and a wave of nausea rolls through me. What the hell have I done?
I turn toward Irina’s building, praying silently that Rashid will let this go.
That he won’t dig.
That Batya will get us out of town soon like he promised. Because if he doesn’t, none of this disappears. It only gets worse.