Chapter 27 #2
With a mouth like his, she figured there was some truth to the statement, but he’d monstrously undersold himself. The man was a savage between her legs, merciless in how he devoured her. If this was what being eaten alive meant, she’d die a million deaths for him to do it every night.
“Jesus, fuck,” Amelia gasped. “Emory.”
“That good for you, baby?” he chuckled and stroked her from the inside, his long fingers easily reaching her sensitive spot hidden deep.
Amelia couldn’t answer. Words would’ve failed her anyhow. As with his hands, Emory’s mouth commanded her body. He hooked his arms behind her knees and, in one swift movement, rolled to his back and brought Amelia with him.
“Ride my face,” he commanded and didn’t wait for her to shimmy up his body. With a firm grip on her ass, Emory hauled her up his chest and set in again before Amelia could even straddle him.
Dizzy and disoriented, she held onto the headboard and tried desperately to compose herself as he lapped at her pussy.
With every flick of his tongue or caress of his lips, she came undone, her legs trembling and thighs crushing his cheeks.
Emory peered up at her and the wickedness in his gaze said he wanted a show. It was her time to shine.
Any lingering inhibitions fell away. Amelia matched his eyes as she swiveled her hips in loose rolls.
Emory buried a moan between her legs, his chest rumbling and fingers digging into the back of her thighs.
Lost in the moment with his mouth between her legs, Amelia closed her eyes and rode his face as faithfully as she’d ride his cock.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so sexy,” Emory muttered, his panting breaths like heaven between her legs. “Turn around and suck my dick.”
Once again, Amelia had hardly processed the demand before Emory had flipped her around and positioned her exactly how he wanted.
On all fours, she was face to face with his perfect cock.
Amelia wrapped one hand around his shaft and glanced back at Emory with a sweet smile.
She couldn’t say what flashed in his eyes—possessiveness, lust, the need to mark her as his own and keep her forever.
“That’s my girl,” Emory said and licked her cum off his lips. “Get to it,” he commanded with a wink and light slap to her ass.
Amelia’s stomach flipped, and she met that command with a tease. She sucked the tip of his cock then placed a soft kiss there.
“Like this, baby?” she asked, her lips deliberately brushing his tip. The gesture drove him crazy. Cheeks flushed, Emory grit his teeth.
Before he could answer, Amelia took him in her mouth and sucked, her tongue swirling and hand stroking.
Emory tensed beneath her, and another moan disappeared between her legs as he delved in again.
The rush went to her head. Amelia sucked hard and tried to focus, but she lost her rhythm at the sensations tearing through her.
It didn’t matter. Emory seemed to like it sloppy and thrust into her mouth, grunting as he restrained himself. His thumb swiped her clit, but his tongue was relentless as it sunk inside her. Amelia steadied herself on her elbows, her body taut and trembling and composure quickly fading.
“Fuck, Emory,” she cried, blindsided by her release that came with an exquisite rush.
All the maddening tension they’d shared—the unbearable ache to be near him, to know him, to have him—unraveled in one dazzling moment as Amelia tumbled off of him. Face buried in her hands, she steadied herself for a breath.
“Oh my God,” Amelia muttered into her palms.
She could fucking cry and almost did. The embarrassment would’ve been too much to take, though, so Amelia pulled herself together with another shuddering breath.
Emory laughed as he climbed on top of her, positively pleased with himself that he’d made her come so easily, and moved in for a kiss.
Amelia could taste herself on him. She didn’t care about that, not with his body hot against her and his thick shaft resting heavy between her legs.
“Fuck, that was sexy,” he said and brushed the hair from her cheek. His gaze swept over her face, admiring her as he caught his breath.
Amelia held onto him and drew him down for another taste. His mouth was warm, the kiss tender. Falling fast, she needed him close but buried her face against his chest so he wouldn’t see.
“You’re shaking,” Emory said, ever attentive. Of course he’d notice how she trembled.
It wasn’t for some claim to chastity. Amelia was instead keenly aware of the sordid path she’d taken to end up naked in his arms. Accepting him into her body meant consummating more than just their relationship, but her place in his world.
“Do you want me to be gentle now?” he asked but seemed to already have the answer in hand.
“Maybe,” she replied with a shrug and didn’t know how to read his smile or the way he studied her as if seeing her for the first time.
Emory took her hand and threaded it in his, their palms pressed together. “You’re so beautiful, Amelia.”
He kissed her again, hotter and needier than before. Yes, he could be gentle, but the passion remained in how he devoured her lips with perfect understanding of the intimacy she craved.
“Do we need something?” he asked and rocked against her. His shaft glided between her pussy lips. Amelia sighed at the sensation and almost lost the question, forgetting it was hers to answer.
“I have an IUD,” she panted against his mouth as he ground against her clit still pulsing from her last orgasm.
“I wanna feel every inch of you,” he said. The tip of his cock rested at her opening. “Is that okay?”
Amelia reached between them and took his cock in hand. For a man his size, he’d have no choice but to be gentle. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. She wanted him to make her whole as he filled her up, to feel him moving inside her, to be as close as they could.
“Tell me what you want. Everything you want,” Emory whispered, his breath bathing her skin and his lips soft at her neck.
Amelia squeezed his hand and wrapped her legs around his hips. “I want to watch how you fill me up.”
He kissed her pulse. “What else?”
“I want you to come inside me.”
“And?”
I want you to love me, not tear me apart. Amelia didn’t know how to ask if he knew how, so she dug her heels into his ass and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as if she’d given him all her wants. Emory lifted his head but something in him had changed. He knows.
Heart to heart and nose to nose, he kept her gaze as he pushed inside. “Fuck,” he sighed and let his head hang heavy. “Goddamn, I knew you’d feel good, but this…”
Emory stayed inside her for a moment, unmoving as they both marveled at the connection.
“You feel so good too,” Amelia said with a smile and drew him in.
She captured his lips in a kiss as he worked his way deeper. With each roll of his hips, the sharp sting gave way to a sweet ache between her legs. She bit her bottom lip to stifle a moan but abandoned the effort as he picked up his pace.
She let herself go at the sight of him, a strong man on top of her.
Emory cupped her breasts, waist, thighs, anything he could get his hands on.
Amelia swiveled her hips so he might feel every part of her from the inside out.
That drove him to the brink. His chest heaved and legs stiffened.
He was close, and so was she. Emory had found the sweetest spot and knew it too.
In one fluid movement, he hitched her legs over his shoulders and stared down at them joined together. Amelia propped herself on her elbows to watch too. Her lips stretched around his cock, her clit swollen and aching for another touch.
“I knew your pussy would take my dick so good, baby.”
“God, yes,” she muttered and collapsed back against the pillow.
He was so deep inside of her. Amelia’s breasts bounced with each thrust. Emory leaned down and took one in his mouth, his tongue swirling against her nipple.
Amelia grabbed onto his ass. His muscles contracted and released against her palms each time he bucked his hips.
Emory lifted to his knees, gathered her wrists in one large hand, and pinned them overhead.
“You like that, don’t you?” he growled.
Ruthless again, he loomed over her and squeezed her wrists.
He might’ve fucked her too hard if not for how diligently he studied her face and watched how she responded.
Unable to breathe, let alone speak, Amelia nodded.
The pressure between her legs surmounted with a flush of wetness and a rush that left her heart racing.
Yes, she wanted this too; wanted him to devour her, claim her, take everything he could.
“Emory,” she gasped and reached down to swipe her clit. “Don’t stop. I’m so close.”
A gentle wave before, the second climax slammed into her.
Emory extracted every second of it from her body, his rhythm unrelenting as she rode her release.
Their lips met again in a fervent kiss, his moans pouring into her mouth and vibrating against her chest. With one last thrust, Emory collapsed on top of her.
Amelia closed her eyes with a heavenly sigh but opened them again when his hand met her cheek.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
So often, he’d demanded her gaze, an angry command she never really understood until that moment. If she wanted to be loved, then he wanted to be seen. She met his gaze as his cock pulsed inside her. Amelia could come again from the sensation alone.
She kissed his neck beneath his ear, then whispered, “I want to see.”
Emory eagerly obliged and pulled out of her slowly. Together, they watched as his cum seeped out of her and coated her pussy.
“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking dream,” Emory said and beamed as if proud to have wrecked her this way. On top of her again, he slipped his arms underneath her. “Come here. I need you.”
On a long inhale, Emory breathed her in deep, a breath that filled his lungs, and he held it there just as soundly as he held her in his arms. He released it on a laugh, sincere despite how quietly it departed his lips.
God, and his lips. They were perfect. He kissed her again, and if he meant to eat her alive, he was certainly succeeding. He feasted like a man starved, and when he was through, he shook his head with a sated smile.
“What is it?” Amelia asked and freed the strands of hair that’d stuck to his cheek. Flushed, his body billowed heat, and his skin dewed with sweat.
“Bet you never thought you’d end up like this,” Emory said and combed his fingers through her hair.
Amelia shook her head and studied the tattoos on his chest. On the left side was a heavenly host of angels and the right a legion of demons. They looked at war over his heart that strummed so peacefully.
“Did you?” she asked.
“I wasn’t sure you’d ever come around.” After a pause, a grin unfurled on his lips. “You hated my ass.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
He laughed at that and looked primed to call bullshit. She couldn’t blame him. Their early days together were mired in complications.
“I hated that I was attracted to you,” Amelia said as she traced the tattoo on his bicep and the scars underneath, “that you turned me on, that I wanted you so badly. I hated the guilt and shame I felt because of it. Hated that I wanted to be close to you, and that I wanted you to want me too.”
“Of course, I wanted you. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
For so long.
Amelia smiled at the marker he placed. She’d done it too, and neither could escape the nonsense of their timeline.
If she could catch her breath, Amelia might have told him that it seemed they’d already spent a lifetime together or perhaps quite a few.
His presence conjured memories just out of reach, so it all felt like being roused from the sweetest dream.
She couldn’t recall the sequence of events, only the feeling of having lived this moment with him once or twice or endlessly before.
“What is it?” Emory asked when she still hadn’t said anything.
“What is what?”
“The way you’re looking at me.” His eyes flicked over her, roused with some mystery she couldn’t see in herself. “I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me this way.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way,” she admitted.
Some men gloated in that singularity because it wasn’t enough just to love them. They needed to be the only star to light up the sky, a supernova burning up what had come before and spoiling what might come after. Emory wasn’t the sort.
He collected her in his arms as he rolled to his back.
“I haven’t either. It’s not about erasure.
I’ve been in love before, and I know you have too.
But this is…” With a thoughtful pause, he searched her face.
“Well, you’re the poet. Maybe I can tell you how I feel and you can put it into pretty words. ”
Amelia traced her fingertip along the angelic host tattooed to his chest. Maybe the placement was intentional, his better angels so close to his heart.
“For you, I already have,” she said.