Chapter 7 Emery
Emery
I don’t know what time it is when I wake up, but when I do, I’m surrounded by both darkness and warmth. Breathing in, there’s that pine smell that I’m growing addicted to as well.
It’s not the blankets on the bed that I’m snuggling my face into, but Callan’s chest.
His breathing is slow, and it’s clear that he must have accidentally fallen asleep waiting for me to do the same. Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged us to stay up for an extra hour just talking about the silliest of things.
Can I be blamed? Despite my body needing the rest, my mind was wide awake after what he had me experience. That pleasure… Just thinking about it now has me getting wound up all over again.
I should close my eyes and go back to sleep, but what’s to say the direction of my dreams won’t be what wakes me up again?
Sighing against his chest, I turn and realize he’s got his arm locked securely around me like a bar. It seems like I’m not going anywhere. All I can do is twist around so all that heat is pressed against my back instead.
I’m pretty sure any inch of my body he touches is meant to feel good. Even now, I just want to soak up all the heat he has to give.
With my movement, the moment he shifts, I realize I’ve woken him up. Like me, from the sudden stiffness of his body, he’s confused at first. But then he relaxes, and I feel his breath tickle my neck.
Unsure if I should pretend I’m asleep or not, I make up my mind when he tries to lift his arm. It’s embarrassing how quickly I clutch it to keep it in space. Through the darkness, he can’t see the heat on my cheeks or the desperation on my face.
“Don’t go.” Curling against him, I feel the rumble that vibrates in his chest as sleep coats my plea. “It’s okay, really.”
He pauses long enough to probably try to make up his mind.
To make it easier, I grab his hand against my stomach and squeeze it. “I like the way it feels when you touch me.” Moving his hand is easy now that he’s alert, and I don’t miss the noise he makes when I drag his palm up my chest to feel my racing heart. Will that be enough to convince him?
“Emery…” His voice is scratchy in all the right ways when he’s tired. Instead of lingering where my heart is, he groans and moves slightly to cup my breast. “Can’t you see that’s where the issue is? All I want to do is touch you.”
His words are all I need to realize that we both have different definitions of touching. However, I think I like his more. Especially when I feel his fingers pinch my nipple and pluck it through the shirt.
Now the heat is flooding back. Not just because of memories, but because of the present, too.
Arching against him, I can’t help the moan that slips past my lips. Squirming with him at my back, I can feel every inch of his body. That includes the stiff part of him digging into my lower back.
“Fuck, you’re a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” Like he can’t help himself, he does it again with the same result, cursing again beneath his breath.
Lifting my hands, I start undoing buttons. Wanting to be able to feel him directly against my skin, I don’t miss the groan that leaves him once he realizes what I’m doing.
“You’re making this hard…” Despite his complaints, he stops only long enough to finish the top three before pulling the flaps open. Then he pulls away, much to my dismay. Before I can complain, the dim light from his lamp is flooding the room.
Now he sees me entirely. Flushed and naked for his hungry gaze to devour.
I don’t think either of us is thinking about sleep now. But now, Callan is scowling so deeply, I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong.
“What is it?”
His throat bobs as his eyes flicker around like he can’t decide which part of my body he wants to look at more. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I want to do far more than touch you.”
I like how honest he is, and from the way he isn’t even looking at my leg, I know what he’s referring to. I don’t know how he knows that I’m a virgin, but I can hear it in his voice.
“You won’t hurt me. After everything you’ve done, from saving me to—” My skin burns hotter and my sex clenches, “—pleasuring me, I know you won’t. Just please, Callan… Touch me before I start really begging for it.”
Thankfully, he does. Though, he doesn’t go back to my chest, not at first. Instead, he moves toward my thighs. Cupping my pussy, I feel his fingers part my lips before he lets out a pained sound.
“Still warm and soft…” Instead of going for my clit like before, he pushes a finger inside of me, and the stretch is so foreign, I don’t know what to think about it. He doesn’t let me try to figure it out, not when he’s leaning over me to press his mouth to my breasts instead.
Callan seems to know my body better than I do. Calling me sensitive is an understatement. All I need is the graze of his teeth and the flick of his tongue to arch against his overwhelming wave of touches.
One finger becomes two, and my thighs are already shaking.
Reaching for his shoulders, I give them both a squeeze as I try to cling on.
The last thing I want to do is come undone and end this early if more exhaustion comes in.
He’s too caring of a man to want to ignore my needs to seek out his own pleasure.
Dragging his lips up toward my thigh, he laps at my skin like I’m the tastiest thing in existence.
Flicking his tongue against my racing pulse, he pumps his fingers at the same pace.
Slow and torturous. He must really want me to beg.
Especially when his thumb suddenly joins the mix, finally giving attention to the sensitive nub above.
His little circles are what make me meet my downfall.
Crying out his name, in both frustration and in pleasure, I expect him to pull away. To say this is enough. But then, while my vision is growing less fuzzy, I see him pulling back long enough to grip the top of his pajama pants.
The relief that fills me lasts as long as it takes for him to reveal his cock. Like him, it’s big. Thick at the base with a painful-looking vein running along the length of his shaft, I can only imagine what he’s felt after waiting so long to address it.
Without his fingers, my walls flutter around open air. I’m nervous, sure, but I want it. I want him. Reaching out for him in a daze, I watch him squeeze himself with a pained groan.
“Just looking at you makes me wonder if I’ll survive this.” Shaking his head, he fits himself between my thighs. His blunt head presses against my entrance, and I hold my breath. It’s different from his fingers. Wider. Hotter. And when he starts to push, I feel every millimeter of the stretch.
“You’re so tight,” he grits out, and he has to push my thighs further apart just to make enough room for him. His arms cage me in, muscles trembling with the effort it takes to hold back. “God, Emery. This is what torture really is.”
For him, or for me? The stretch brings a slow burn that only grows as he works his way inside. I can feel his carefulness as he only pushes a little in at a time. At this rate, I’m worried that he’ll change his mind before he goes all the way through with it.
“Don’t stop.” My fingers dig into his shoulders as I drag him toward me. “Please. I want this. I want you.”
My words push him to swoop down and kiss me just like before. Except, there isn’t any room for hesitation, only hunger. Happily swallowing down my whimper, his tongue flickers against mine as he pushes himself only halfway.
The pressure builds, that foreign fullness spreading through me in waves. It doesn’t hurt, not like I thought it would, but my body doesn’t know what to do with something this size. My inner walls grip him, try to push him out, and he moans against my lips.
One of his hands slides between us, thumb finding my clit again. The touch makes my hips jump, and he uses that moment of distraction to push deeper. I feel myself give way, feel the slow invasion of him spreading me open inch by inch.
“Oh.” The sound escapes me, small and surprised. “Oh, Callan—”
“I know.” His voice is wrecked. “I know, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. Taking me so well.”
His thumb keeps moving, those little circles that drive me crazy, and somewhere in the haze of pleasure and pressure, I realize I’m lifting my hips to meet him. Wanting more. Needing it.
He takes the invitation. Another push and he’s seated deeper, the head of him slipping past something that makes me gasp. There’s a sting, brief and sharp, but it’s swallowed by the wave of sensation that follows. The fullness. The way I can feel him everywhere.
Breaking our kiss, his panting is ragged against my ear as I realize what’s happened. He’s inside. All of him, every single inch. I didn’t think I could do it, but here I am, pulse racing and body clenching.
“Wrap your legs and arms around me.” Another order, this one coming out of him far rougher.
Like every time before, I can’t help but do as I’m told. Once I’m clinging onto him, trying to prepare for whatever is coming, he kisses my neck once more on a spot already sore from his teeth before finally, finally, moving.