18. Soul
Soul
I tried my best to keep my hands off Emery. To keep my distance. Every bone in my body has ached to claim her since the moment she walked into the clubhouse, but I’ve managed to resist for her sake.
Spread out before me, her fingers buried to her knuckles inside her perfect pussy, the tether that’s been holding me back snaps. I can smell her in the air. Feel her in my soul.
Her soft pants and moans led me through the house the moment I walked through the door.
She must not have heard me because her sounds echoed down the hall without restraint.
When I reached the end of the hallway, her door was open.
Intentional or not, it didn’t really matter because the second I saw her, there was no walking away.
Moonlight cast through the window, and even the darkness of night can’t hide the blush painting a pretty pink path from her chest to her cheeks. Her dark, messy hair splays across the pillow, while her lips are still making a pretty little O shape from her surprise.
It takes a second for her to process I’m standing in front of her when her eyes widen, and her knees snap shut.
I cross my arms over my chest, leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t get shy on me now.”
Emery pulls her hand away, quickly grabbing a sheet and covering herself. “I didn’t think you were coming home.”
“I told you I was.”
“Still.” She shrugs, clearly irritated about something and trying to mask it. “It got late. I figured you got distracted at the clubhouse.”
I didn’t get distracted. I got stuck. After Steel found out that I married Emery, a move that is guaranteed to set Zane off, he was pissed. Not only have I skirted around the club’s rules and secured her protection, but her uncle is going to be ruthless when he hears what I’ve done.
But I don’t bother telling Emery any of that right now because I don’t want her to worry. Besides, her narrowed eyes tell me she isn’t angry that I was out late; she’s worried about what I was doing.
“Is that jealousy, wife?”
Her teeth clench. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s who you are. Besides, you like it.”
“No, I don’t,” she lies. “And I’m not jealous.”
“Good.” I lift off the doorframe and step into the room, closing the door behind me. “You have nothing to be jealous of. I haven’t touched another woman, much less fucked anyone, since you.”
“Since I came to the compound?”
“Since New Year’s.”
Her eyes widen as I lay bare the truth. It’s not like I haven’t had the opportunity.
The clubhouse is full of them. But after Emery, the sight of another woman made my tongue dry and every part of me disinterested.
They didn’t have her blue eyes or wild spirit.
They didn’t see me like she seems to. My opposite.
My soulmate. No one understands me like her, and it has nothing to do with life experience.
It’s this comfort she offers. The fact that she makes me want to do better—be better. She makes life feel worth living again.
I circle the room, dropping into the chair that faces the bed.
“What are you doing?” She sits up taller, and I smirk.
“I already told you not to stop on my account, Emery. And since it was my name falling from your lips as you were about to come, I figure it’s only fair I get to watch.”
“It wasn’t—” Her breath catches, and she cuts herself off.
She doesn’t even realize she was calling my name, which means she couldn’t help it. Add that to my list of kinks when it comes to this girl. I want to fill her thoughts as much as I want to fill her body.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I tell her. “I fucking love it.”
Emery bites her bottom lip, and I let my stare roam. Even with the sheet now covering her legs, the shape of her is intoxicating. Her nipples peak against her T-shirt.
“Well?” My eyebrow quirks in a challenge.
And like the perfect girl she is for me, she can’t help but play along.
Emery scoots up the bed until her back hits the frame. She slowly slides the sheet away, but her thighs are still pressed tight.
“Spread your legs.” I tip my chin at her. “Show your husband how wet you are.”
Husband.
That’s a title I never wanted. I never saw the point. But something about knowing this girl has claimed me—that she’s my wife—is so fucking hot.
I spent ten months riding across Vegas searching for her, and here she is. The angel who will bring my soul home.
Emery hesitates for only a moment before slowly tipping her knees open. Her panties are still pushed to the side, revealing her glistening pussy. Perfect and on display just for me.
“Good girl.” I lean back in the chair, watching her. “Let me see how you were touching yourself waiting for me to get home.”
She slips her fingers through her wet slit, and I groan. It’s been so long since I’ve fucked anything other than my hand, and every day without Emery has felt like a year. She slips a finger down, wetting it and dragging it up in slow circles over her clit.
Absolute perfection.
I’m barely holding on as I grip the armrests tighter. If I release them, I’ll stand up and cross the room. I’ll flip her over and fuck her until I’ve made up for every second we’ve spent apart.
My nails dig in harder as Emery sinks two fingers into her pussy, and her eyelashes flutter.
I’m transfixed.
Stunned.
Not much throws me off my game, but as Emery’s back arches, her nipples peaking, my mind empties. She’s absolute perfection. Too good for me—there’s no doubt about that. But if she thinks I’m ever letting her go, then she’s wrong.
“Hayes.” My name on her lips is a fucking aphrodisiac.
“Use your words, Emery, tell me what you want.” My hand moves from the chair to my thigh, and I grip myself through my jeans because I can’t help it.
She writhes on the bed, and I’m fucking aching. There’s no containing the surge steadily growing as she climbs toward her release.
“I need—” She gasps as her eyes meet mine.
“Yes, wife?”
“I want to see you too.”
Her teeth sink into her lower lip because she’s embarrassed, but she shouldn’t be. I love it when she tells me what she wants. She might be innocent, but she has a wild spirit that’s been aching to be freed, and I’ll gladly give that to her.
Reaching down, I unzip my jeans and pull out my aching cock. Her mouth falls open as I stroke from root to tip. I’d love to paint her lips with the excitement leaking onto my hand, but I resist.
Emery swallows, watching me.
She wets her lips like she’s imagining the same thing I am: her dropping to her knees and wrapping her mouth around me. I can already see the tears springing to her eyes as I’d shove deeper. I can picture her cheeks hollowing, taking me exactly as I need her.
It doesn’t matter if she was a virgin the first time we fucked. Her body was made for me, and that simple fact makes everything right. She’s my dream. My everything.
I stroke my cock again, my gaze falling to her cunt. “Do you like seeing what you do to your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because I want you to fuck that perfect pussy with your fingers until you come for me. And then I want you to stick those fingers in my mouth so I can taste you.”
Another perfect little gasp escapes her lips.
She sinks two fingers in, grinding the heel of her hand against her clit.
Any embarrassment she had when I first walked in here slowly washes away.
Her gaze is transfixed on where I’m stroking myself.
We match each other’s movements. We’re apart physically, but our souls are tangled together.
Pressure pools in the base of my spine, but I refuse to let go before she does. Even as the sound of her fucking her cunt with her fingers makes it nearly impossible.
I need to see her let go. I need her to accept this is what we are. This is what we bring out in each other. I need to ingrain it in her mind that there is no escaping this feeling that ignites the moment we’re in a room together.
“Hayes, I’m so close.” She’s panting, getting more vocal as she gets comfortable.
I love that she trusts me. Even when I’m doing everything wrong, she knows I’ve got her. To everyone else, I’m a loose cannon. But for Emery, I’m the anchor. For our family, I’ll be something I never envisioned—a good father and a better man.
Emery continues to ride the edge, so I lift my palm and spit into it, which has her moaning. Her fingers keep a steady pace as I fist my cock, and she doesn’t take her eyes off me as I stroke myself for her. Those eyes make me want to paint her face in cum. To mark her as mine in every way.
She’s my world.
My wife.
To think that she could have married anyone else makes my teeth clench. I fuck my hand harder at the thought just to work that anger out of my system.
Emery’s body starts to shake. Her breath quickens. She draws her lower lip between her teeth as she falls hard and fast. And when our eyes connect, I watch her tip over that ledge. Her shoulders relax, and she lets go.
Face flushed.
Body writhing.
Emery’s fingers are glistening as she pumps them in and out, shaking around them. She rides the orgasm hard and long, savoring every wave that crashes through her before she finally pulls her hand away and melts into the mattress.
But I’m not done with her yet.
“Come here.”
Emery lifts her head, angling it as I continue to stroke myself. In the haze of her climax, it takes her a moment to process what I said, but when she does, she lifts off the bed. Her T-shirt brushes her thighs, hiding her, but I know what’s just beneath, and that makes it even more tempting.
She stops in front of me, close enough for me to reach for her with my free hand. Her skin is as soft as I remember.
Everything good in this world.
“I want to taste what you just did.” I tip my head back, looking up at her.
She only hesitates for a second before lifting her fingers to my lips and grazing them over my mouth. When I open, she drags them across my tongue, breaking the last of my restraint.
My fist pumps as I suck the taste of her off her fingers. She’s so sweet.
A drop of heaven.
I tighten my grip, and the first hot rope of cum shoots out, making a mess of my hand. My pants. My shirt.
I don’t give a fuck. She needs to see what she does to me.
I’m a mess with her. A mess without her.
She makes me lose control.
And just when I think Emery can’t do anything that would make her more perfect, she drops to her knees in front of me and leans forward, licking the cum from my cock to get a taste for herself.
“Fuck.” I groan as the last of my release paints her mouth.
Her nails dig into my thighs as she takes every last drop, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
When she finally sinks back, she’s smiling.
Not one of her hesitant smiles where I can’t read what she’s thinking, but a true, wide smile that is so real she can’t possibly bury it. Her blue eyes shine in the darkness.
“You’re absolutely perfect.” I brush my thumb over her puffy lower lip, tucking her hair behind her ear.
I want to kiss her—to drag her to bed and fuck her all night long. But I’m trying to actually do right by this girl and make sure she’s comfortable before we go there again.
“Let’s get some rest,” I say, tipping my chin to the bed.
“In here?” she whispers, like she’s worried someone might hear us, and it’s adorable.
“Yeah, in here. Unless you have a problem sharing a bed with your husband.”
She bites back her smile. “No.”
I lead her to the bed, stripping down and climbing in after her. I cradle her in my arms because I’m not letting her slip away again.
Emery’s eyes close, and she drifts off to sleep, but I stay awake and count her freckles. I memorize every inch of her face and wonder how a man like me got so damn lucky.