CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SAM
The moonlight is painting her body in soft grays where it filters through the window behind her. She looks like an angel kneeling before me. Her hourglass body is perfect. Smooth, creamy skin. Large breasts that are more than a handful, but still sit high and firm on her chest. Symmetrical pale pink nipples. Narrow waist. Soft curves that I want to sink into and never come up for air again.
I pause to study her face as she looks up at me. I’ve seen that expression many times before from women. Eagerness. Longing. Desire. There’s a fire raging inside of her like she’s never wanted another man more. Like she can’t wait to please me. But as I reach deeper into those doe-like brown eyes, there’s something else there. Something new.
She’s watching me like she can see beneath the surface. And I’m more than enough in her eyes.
It’s been years since I was looked at like that. It’s only happened once before. I’ve kept up too many walls since then. I forgot what it felt like. All I know is that I’d choose this— her —right here, right now over any other woman in the world.
The head of my cock disappears behind those lips. I sigh, my eyes glued to the sight. I’m so hard that I’m afraid I’ll explode with that first wet touch of her tongue. The sight of her still staring up at me with my cock in her mouth isn’t helping my stamina.
“Em,” I beg, my fingers tightening in her hair.
She’s teasing me, licking around the tip. My balls are heavy and aching. It’s been a while since I’ve slept with anyone or felt a woman’s mouth on my cock. And this is Emerson. I’ve been imagining her like this for weeks now, which is probably why I’m hanging by a thread.
She smiles and runs her tongue along the flared tip. Then, she puts me out of my misery, her mouth sinking along my cock. She takes me in deep, sucking hard on the way up. She swirls the tip again.
“How’d you get so good at that?” I ask, regretting the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. I don’t want to think about her with her ex-boyfriend. I don’t want to think about her with anyone else. “Don’t answer that.”
She settles into a steady rhythm, watching my abs tighten every time her suction increases. Her eyes are glossy with lust, like pleasuring me is turning her on. And I suddenly need to know how wet she is. How wet this is making her. And what it feels like to be inside of her.
I lift Emerson and toss her onto the bed. Her tits bounce from the movement. I take a moment to grab a condom from the side table and roll it on before I crawl on top of her, caging her head between my forearms, and dropping my tongue to circle her nipple once or twice. She moans, the sound driving me insane. I drag my lips along her soft skin until I’m mapping the outline of her collarbone before fitting my hips between her legs. I lift my knee to open her even more, my hand dropping to test her readiness. She’s dripping with arousal.
Lacing our fingers together overhead, I shift until the tip of my cock feels the warmth of her center. And as I roll my hips, inching inside her slowly, her breath hitches. Her inner walls collapse around me, and it’s the hottest, tightest, silkiest space I’ve ever felt. I pause when I’m all the way in. Our bodies are flush. One of her legs winds around my hip, anchoring us even closer.
“You feel so good,” she breathes out right before I kiss her. Her fingers weave through my hair, tugging lightly on the strands.
“You’re perfection,” I tell her, not allowing her to look away. My eyes search between hers. “I think you’re the sexiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She looks like she wants to believe me, but I can tell she doesn’t. The girl next door thinks she doesn’t measure up to all those other women. She doesn’t realize she blows them out of the water. Because not only is Emerson gorgeous on the outside, but she’s also beautiful inside. I vow to keep telling her— showing her—until she believes it.
Her breasts are nestled tightly against my chest, her hard nipples dragging against my pecs every time I move. I pull my cock almost all the way out before pushing back in. She cries out, pressing the back of her head into the mattress.
“Eyes on me,” I demand, rolling my hips as our gazes connect again.
Her golden-browns are hazed by lust. I cradle her face in my hands and suck on her lower lip, tracing it with my tongue.
I keep moving, the pace torturously slow. But I don’t want this to be over too soon. I’m too busy memorizing the features of her face in the moonlight, the softness of her skin pressed against mine. The smell of her hair and the sexy way the tangled strands fan out on the sheets behind her. The taste of her lips and the way her mouth gapes just a little when I drag across that special spot deep inside of her.
Her eyes remain connected to mine as we move together. Gravelly little gasps of pleasure escape from her throat when we grind. I can feel my heart beating out of my chest, even as I keep the rhythm slow.
I run my nose along her jaw and graze my lips against hers. She responds eagerly as our mouths fuse into a kiss that I deepen reflectively. Our tongues tangle, exploring and tasting.
Her gasp transforms into moans as she clings to me, struggling to get closer even though we’re connected from our lips to our toes. My pelvis brushes against her clit, and I feel her body tense, her nails digging into my shoulders. She reaches down and grabs my ass, pulling me deeper into her.
I start thrusting harder, unable to hold back. She feels too good. The moment her walls clamp down on my cock, pulsing around me as she comes, I explode inside of her. She cries out. Our release goes on for seconds that turn into minutes as I fall over the cliff, consumed with ecstasy and her. She clings to me. I hold on to her, both of our chests heaving against one another.
Her skin is flushed, and the hair around her temples is damp with sweat. She stares up at me in awe, and I feel like the biggest stud on the planet for putting that expression on her face.
“That was … wow,” she murmurs.
I nuzzle her neck and speak against her skin. “Was it good for you, Doe?”
She pretends to think about it, overexaggerating her expression. “I mean … it was all right.”
“All right?” I scoff, tickling her side. “Those sounds you were making were more wow than just all right .”
She squirms, and I slide to the side of her, pulling her warm body back into my chest.
“You don’t need your ego stroked too much,” she says.
I can hear the smile on her face. I can feel the contentment in her body as I hold her.
“I’ll give you something to stroke,” I joke, shifting my cock further into her ass.
“How are you still hard?”
“I seem to stay hard around you,” I confess.
“Is that another one of your lines?” she asks.
“Not if it’s true.” I bury my face in her hair.
We lie in silence for a few minutes, the hum of the heater the only sound in the bedroom.
“Did you have fun tonight?” she asks, breaking the quiet.
I breathe against her neck. “Yeah. We were able to raise a lot of money.” I press closer. “When I was looking for you, I wandered over to the silent auction.”
She stiffens in my arms.
“I saw something interesting there. Two interesting somethings.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I smile against her neck. “Yeah. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“I might …”
“When did you donate your paintings, Doe?”
“The day after you told me about the gala. I went to Madison. Told her I wanted to contribute something. She suggested I donate a painting, so I donated two. She arranged the rest.”
Emerson shifts until she’s lying flat on her back. I hover over her, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose.
“And the one of me?”
She shrugs, the blush deepening across her cheeks. “I guess I couldn’t resist.”
It means a lot that she supported a cause that’s personal to me. It means even more that she sees me like she does. Enough to capture it on canvas.
“Thank you for doing that.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she insists.
But I think she did. It feels like she did it for me.
“You’re wasting your talent if you aren’t painting.”
She searches my face in the dim lighting. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve always had opportunities the rest of us might never have.”
“How so?” I ask.
I grew up in a working-class family. I skated my ass off to excel at hockey. I earned a scholarship, which landed me at Sinclair, and continued to work until I was called up to the big leagues. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon inside my mouth. I was born with talent, but that talent had to be honed.
“Athletes have things handed to them. Big bank accounts. Endorsements. Fame. Women’s panties …” She draws out that last one. “All because you can shoot a puck into a net.”
“Hockey’s a little more than that.” I scowl, dropping onto my back beside her with my arm propped behind my head. Yes, there are a lot of perks for professional athletes. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t struggle along the way. “I worked hard to get to where I am.”
“I know,” she acknowledges, her hand landing on my chest. “I just meant that you have doors opened for you that are locked for others. The arts aren’t like that.”
“Have you tried to show your work?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She blows out an exhale. “I took a couple of paintings to three or four galleries when I first arrived in Chicago. They weren’t interested.”
“So, try again.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But I didn’t land here by standing back and letting things just happen to me. You have to make them happen.” I look her in the eye. “You’re really talented, Emerson. You should be painting full-time.”
Her smile is small, but it’s there. “I wish I had just an ounce of your confidence.”
She rises and walks away from the bed. I elevate on my elbows to watch her go, admiring the gentle curve of her back leading down to her hard, round ass.
“Stop staring at me,” she demands without turning around as she disappears into the bathroom. I can hear the humor in her voice.
“It’ll never happen,” I promise, collapsing back on the bed again.
I lie there for a moment, thinking about her art, before grabbing my phone from the side table. I click on my social media page, something I never do. I have over five hundred thousand followers even though I’m rarely on the site. The PR team maintains it, posting periodic pictures and reels of me working out or traveling with the team to keep fan interest up. I’ve never been into it, and I can’t remember the last time I posted something myself.
But that’s going to change tonight.